by Peyton Bogue
Sage is helpless to watch through his blurry vision as Rhys snarls again, quickly stepping towards the circle with a menacing glare. His entire body starts sizzling as his flesh begins to burn when he steps over the invisible barrier. He releases a low, agonizing groan as he completely moves into the small space, and the sound of it makes Sage’s heart sink with dread. Rhys harshly rips himself from the invisible barrier, and almost immediately, his skin starts to knit itself back together. Rhys’s eyes meet Sage’s, and he looks at Sage, agonized, and takes a shuddering breath.
He’s trapped.
Steele releases Sage, and Sage abruptly braces himself against the concrete with his good arm. He coughs and coughs, then proceeds to vomit all over the concrete in front of him. There’s nothing in his stomach, but the bile rises in his throat, and Sage heaves and heaves against the floor beneath him.
His entire body trembles from the pain.
Steele moves away from him with a disgusted noise, but Sage can’t focus on him as he works to catch his breath. The foul taste in his mouth does nothing to distract him from the aching throb of his body.
Sage looks up quickly even though another wave of nausea hits him, and his eyes immediately find Rhys’s, who's looking at him with such sorrow that Sage feels another round of tears spill over his cheeks.
“Rhys,” he says brokenly, gasping and wheezing. He can’t say anything else.
“It’s okay,” Rhys says quietly to him, the first words he’s spoken to Sage since he’d entered the warehouse only moments ago. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“You promised,” Sage gasps out despite the fire in his throat, his chest, his entire body. Another tear escapes his eye. You promised you wouldn’t die for me.
“I heard you scream,” Rhys says softly, staring morosely as Sage struggles to take in air, as if his explanation is everything Sage will ever need to know, as if his words contain everything he isn’t able to say.
Sage can’t hold back his sob.
“Pathetic,” Steele sneers from somewhere to Sage’s right, and it’s hard for Sage to rip his eyes away from Rhys, but he watches as Steele walks closer to the circle of wolfsbane. Rhys snarls at him, and Steele grins.
He moves his hand to the small of his back, where he pulls Sage’s gun out of his waistband. Sage eyes it as Steele brings the gun up close to his face to examine it.
“That’s not going to do anything to me,” Rhys tells him harshly, his brooding face pulled into another scowl.
Steele gives him a smirk. “Do you want to bet?”
Sage watches as Steele cocks the gun, pulls it away from his face, and shoots Rhys right in the stomach.
Sage gasps brokenly when Rhys stumbles back, the sound of sizzling flesh heavy in his ears as Rhys’s back grazes up against the barrier of the wolfsbane circle. Sage struggles to stand up, his entire body trembling as everything screams at him to move, but he collapses against the concrete as more tears blur his vision. “No!” he screams, sobbing.
The sound of Rhys's sharp inhale draws his eyes back to Rhys’s body, and Rhys is clutching at his side in agony as dark red blood seeps between his fingers. Sage thinks he might pass out from the anguish that courses through him at the sight of Rhys’s blood.
“Wolfsbane bullets,” Rhys hisses between his teeth, his eyes flickering briefly between glowing red and his normal gray. His entire face is screwed up in pain, but he takes another deep breath, then yanks his shirt up and begins to prod at the wound. A second later, he pulls the bullet out of the hole in his stomach and lets it drop between his fingertips. Black smoke leaks from the wound, but it doesn’t start to heal like Sage expected it to. More blood squelches as it starts to pool at Rhys’s feet.
“Do you like them?” Steele asks, his grin absolutely wicked. “I borrowed them. I’ve never seen them in action before.”
Rhys snarls.
“That wound looks nasty,” Steele continues, flashing his electric blue eyes. Rhys bares his canines threateningly in response, and Steele seems to pause briefly before he looks away quickly. He aims the gun at Rhys’s left leg, and another piercing shot echoes through the room as Rhys howls painfully.
“Stop it!” Sage shouts over his tears. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”
Steele cocks Sage’s gun again, ignoring Sage’s pleas as he smirks at Rhys over the barrel.
“Damian, please,” Sage wheezes, panting. “Me! Kill—Kill me! Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just stop hurting him!”
“No,” Rhys growls, glaring at Steele even though his growl is directed at Sage. Steele’s cocky smirk widens as he aims the gun at Rhys’s stomach again. Another shot echoes through the room, and Rhys howls in agony again as he keels over in pain.
Sage clenches his eyes shut. The sound of Rhys’s pain is too much for him to bare. His entire body convulses on another sob.
In front of him, Steele continues to taunt Rhys indistinctly. Sage can’t get the sound of Rhys’s howls out of his ears long enough to focus on what Steele is saying. He turns onto his back and clenches his teeth to stop himself from blacking out as more spots scatter through his vision. The entire room starts to fade as he feels his eyes start to close again. He snaps them open quickly, heaving in another breath. Focus.
A quick glance towards the circle of wolfsbane shows him that Rhys’s bullet wounds still aren’t healing, and the amount of blood surrounding him tells Sage that Rhys is steadily starting to bleed out. He needs to do something now before they both end up dead. Rhys’s lower abdomen and leg are bleeding profusely, and he looks pale as sweat begins to gather on his forehead.
Wolfsbane is harmful to werewolves. That much Sage knows. If the bullets Steele is using are laced with wolfsbane or have wolfsbane in them, Sage assumes that they are starting to slowly poison Rhys’s bloodstream and are inhibiting Rhys’s supernatural healing from beginning to heal his wounds. Rhys is going to need medical attention quickly if he doesn't start healing soon.
There are four casings at Rhys’s feet, so at some point in the last minute, Steele has shot Rhys again. Sage can’t hear anything beyond the sounds of Rhys’s howls, and his head is pounding. It’s probably not a good sign, but Sage can’t concentrate enough to think about what he’s supposed to be hearing.
He takes another deep breath, and it’s wet and awful and his chest convulses in pain, but he tries to steady himself and think. Wolfsbane is harmful to werewolves. He has a small amount of wolfsbane in his breast pocket. Steele is a werewolf. If Sage can somehow get the wolfsbane into Steele’s system, it might make him pause enough to allow Rhys to defend himself.
His efforts will be useless if Rhys remains trapped inside of the wolfsbane circle. There’s got to be a reason that the circle is keeping Rhys trapped. Sage can’t fight against Steele by himself, not long enough to get them both out of here. Maybe if he breaks the seal of the circle, Rhys might be able to get out of it.
It’s not his brightest idea, but Sage really can’t think about it much longer. He can’t think past his fear and anger. The blood pool at Rhys’s feet is growing. Sage’s vision is beginning to go black again. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the potential negatives of his plan. If he doesn’t do something now, they’ll both die. If he fails, they’ll die either way.
Sage takes another deep breath as panic lances through him. His entire body protests at his movements, but he forces his good arm up to his chest to start digging his fingers inside of his breast pocket. Why did he put his wolfsbane in such an inconvenient place? The angle is awkward as he stifles through the pocket with his good hand, but he feels his fingertips run over the small herb, and he tries to quickly pry it from the pocket, but his movements are slow and unsteady. He ends up crushing it as he pulls the herb out, and he inhales deeply and chokes on another wheeze when he feels the small pieces break apart in his hand.
Rhys’s gaze snaps to him quickly at the sound of his wheezing, and he doesn’t look good. His face is pale—too pale, Sage th
inks. His eyes keep flickering in and out of his usual glowing red and gray, and he’s panting from the poison in his veins. Sage can see that his strength is rapidly diminishing.
Rhys quickly darts his eyes to Sage’s left hand, and his nose wrinkles like it had the first time he’d shown the herb to Sage. Comprehension dawns over his features, and he turns back to Steele with a practiced smirk despite his hollow eyes.
“Is that all you got?” Rhys growls, even though it falls slightly flat. “It’s going to take a lot more than wolfsbane bullets to take me down, Steele.”
The effect on Steele is immediate. He growls and bares his teeth in a useless show of strength, aiming the gun again and firing. Rhys moves the second Steele aims, and the bullet misses him by a hair’s length before he smirks tauntingly again.
Rhys is trying to distract Steele, Sage realizes, so that Steele doesn’t pay attention to what Sage is trying to do. Sage belatedly thinks that Rhys has read his mind, like how Steele had been able to read Sage’s dream—projecting, he’d called it—before he shakes his head and squares his shoulders, trying to focus.
Rhys is hurt. Steele is hurting him. Trying to kill him. And now. . .
Now, it isn’t anger or fear that begins to coil in Sage’s abdomen, but something primitive, and alive, and so remorseless that it completely hones Sage’s focus into bloodthirsty determination.
It takes every ounce of energy he can muster, but Sage is able to push past the screaming pain in his limbs and a wave of lightheadedness enough to stand on his shaky legs. He crushes the wolfsbane in his hand again, trying to break it apart into even smaller pieces.
He takes a timid step forward, and he’s overcome with vertigo as he tries to keep himself upright. He tries not to think about the fire that erupts over his entire body as he stumbles on his feet.
Sage takes another step forward.
He goes completely unnoticed by Steele. Rhys doesn’t look at him as he continues trying to taunt Steele, telling him that he’s weak and that Rhys will always be stronger than he is. He tells Steele that he’s a coward and a traitor for trying to take a territory he knows nothing about. He snarls sharply that he’ll rip Steele’s head off if he touches Sage again. He growls that Steele should have left Rhys’s territory when he could’ve.
“I will tear you apart limb from limb,” Sage hears Rhys snarl at him, and this time, his menacing tone does seem to make Steele cower slightly. “And then, when you’re a writhing mass of blood and flesh, I’ll rip your heart from your chest.”
Steele growls and Sage stumbles. Even with Steele’s enhanced reflexes and supernatural hearing, he doesn’t notice that Sage is now standing directly in front of him. He looks confused to see Sage, as if he’s shocked and had forgotten that Sage was even still in the warehouse, but Sage doesn’t hesitate as he brings his hand up to Steele’s face and harshly pushes the wolfsbane into his eyes.
The sound of something burning fizzles in Sage’s ears, and they both tumble to the floor with the impact of Sage’s weight pushing into Steele. Steele howls in pain at the same time that Sage cries out in agony as he collides with the concrete again. His body is finally starting to give out on him. He doesn’t have anything left in him to move.
Steele scratches at his eyes as Sage rolls onto his back, coughing wretchedly as his entire body is overcome with tremors. He heaves again, but nothing comes up his throat.
Before Sage can move again, Steele is on top of him, and the sound of sizzling flesh echoes in Sage’s ears as both of Steele’s hands wrap around Sage’s throat. Sage chokes as he frantically struggles, looking up at Steele. He feels his eyes widen even as his airway is cut off and panic lurches in his stomach at the sight of Steele’s eyes. They’re still electric blue, but they’re badly burned, sweltered completely. It looks like acid was poured into them. Sage doesn’t even know if Steele can actually see.
“Sage!” he hears Rhys yell in front of him, and Sage thrashes against Steele’s hands. Steele bares his canines at Sage and growls, and Sage can’t get any air into his lungs again.
Frantically, he tries to glance towards Rhys, but Rhys is still trapped, pounding on the invisible barrier of the wolfsbane circle as his hands burn and swelter with every impact. Sage puts everything he has left into moving, and he knows that there isn’t anything left in him, but he has to try anyway. Rhys is bleeding out in that circle, and Sage can feel the lightheadedness overtaking him as the darkness at the edges of his vision begins to take over.
Abruptly, Steele wrenches Sage’s good arm away from his body and, still keeping a hand wrapped around Sage's throat, brings Sage’s left wrist up to his mouth and bites down hard. The most agonizing pain overtakes Sage as he screams, and he struggles against Steele’s canines, desperate to get him off.
He thrashes once more, and the heel of his dress shoe scrapes over the powder of the circle at the same time that Rhys completely shifts in his growing panic. His face screws up in a snarl as his eyes glow the brightest red Sage has ever seen before. His wolf ears elongate. He becomes distinctly more and more hairy as the features of his face turn animalistic. He releases a piercing growl, and when Sage moves his foot again and completely breaks the seal of the wolfsbane circle, Steele’s hand is immediately torn from his throat, the teeth at his wrist are gone, and the sudden weight lifted off of him has Sage gasping in air.
Sage barely has time to glance over to where Rhys has tackled Steele to the concrete, still looking so pale and so tired, before Rhys starts to literally tear Steele apart. His claws glint dangerously in the light of the fluorescents as he slashes at Steele’s black t-shirt, now completely torn into ribbons from the ferocity of Rhys’s rage.
Even though Rhys is severely weakened from the wolfsbane that is still coursing through his veins, Steele is no match for Rhys’s Alpha strength. He tries to shove Rhys off of him, but Rhys tightens his grip on Steele’s throat, a maudlin mirror image to the position Sage and Steele were in only seconds before, and Steele snarls in pain as Rhys digs the claws of his left hand into the skin of Steele’s chest and slashes all the way down Steele’s torso.
“Please,” Sage can hear Steele beg over the rushing of blood in his ears, and the sound of his voice, broken and wet, has something vicious curling in Sage’s stomach as Sage writhes in pain against the concrete. Molten heat erupts over Sage's entire body, and he pants harshly as a broken sob tears through his throat.
Steele repeats himself over and over again while Rhys slashes and punches and bites and chokes him. Steele doesn’t stop pleading until Rhys wraps one hand around his throat, digs his claws in, and smashes his head onto the concrete.
Rhys doesn’t say anything as he leans in dangerously close to Steele’s throat and snarls so deeply that the sound of it makes Sage’s head hurt. Rhys doesn’t make another sound before he sinks his canines into Steele’s jugular as Steele howls helplessly, and without a moment’s hesitation, Rhys rips Steele’s entire throat out with his teeth.
The pain of Steele’s bite completely blacks out Sage’s vision, and Sage knows that he’s crying from the agony of the scorching fire inside of him. The tears are hot on his cheeks as he writhes and desperately tries to breathe in air. The searing burn erupting through his veins is the worst pain Sage has ever felt.
The last thing Sage sees is the blood on Rhys’s canines before he feels himself completely drift away.
I love you, he thinks distantly as he closes his eyes and lets the darkness consume him.
FIFTEEN
I know what pain feels like. I know what it’s like to beg for the release of death. I’ve done my fair share of knocking on Death’s door. I’ve lived through some of the most horrific experiences. I see death every time I close my eyes. Anguish never fails to hold me in a fiery grip. I’ve killed men with my bare hands. And even amongst the sorrow I carry with me every day, I have never felt a pain worse than this.
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If you could take this pain away, would you? Would you show me the mercy I no longer deserve?
There’s a light I’m holding onto. I can’t see anything past this darkness, but I can feel you. You’re burning bright and loud and clear. I can’t see your light, but I can feel it. Please, don’t let me go.
I have so much that I need to tell you, Rhys. There are so many things that I wish I could say to you. I want to ask you for your forgiveness. I want to kiss you and tell you that everything will be okay.
But your light is slipping away from me. I’m trying to hold onto you, but this pain is fighting against me.
I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ree.
Make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop make it stop
I think I am fading
a w a y.
SIXTEEN
“I need to tell you something,” Sage says, lifting his head off of Rhys’s chest. He swallows around his dry tongue, taking a deep breath.
Rhys brings his hand up from where he had been idly rubbing at Sage’s back to run his thumb over Sage’s cheekbone, tilting his head to the side with a confused smile.
“Okay,” he says, looking into Sage’s eyes. His smile quickly turns into a frown when Sage looks away from him and takes another steadying breath.
Sage’s eyes nervously dart out of the window next to Rhys’s bed, out towards the New York skyline. The sun is beginning to set over the skyscrapers, and the pink and orange hue of the clouds momentarily makes Sage pause.
“You’re okay, Sage. You’re okay.”
They’ve both been enjoying Sage’s day off together, lounging around Rhys’s apartment. They haven’t left Rhys’s bed for hours, not since Rhys had made them breakfast that morning. Sage had even spent the night last night after he’d finished his shift at the precinct. They rarely ever spend their nights apart anymore. There are parts of Sage mingled in with Rhys all over Rhys’s apartment; his toothbrush is placed in a holder right next to Rhys’s; the ugly mug Kai had bought him last Christmas is nestled inside a cabinet in Rhys’s kitchen; his favorite pair of sweatpants are currently resting on the floor across from Rhys’s bed. He has his own drawer in Rhys’s dresser. There’s space in Rhys’s closet that is full of Sage’s clothes. His favorite shampoo and conditioner sit beside Rhys’s in Rhys’s attached bathroom. Sage is in Rhys’s space, in Rhys’s bed. The only thing that’s missing is the one thing that’s been hanging over Sage’s head for weeks now.