THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  "Are you kidding me?" Hunter mocks, glancing at his chest as the wound knits together before my very eyes. He shrugs his shoulders. "Well, I guess I never did tell you my story."

  I open my mouth, unable to contain my shock. What was he talking about?

  Hunter efficiently notices my abnormal expression. "What?" He enquires. "You think that I didn't know that your pretty little blade was laced with wolf's bane?"

  I gulp, a lump stuck in my throat. It refuses to go away.

  "I-" I begin, but my words falter. What was I supposed to say? How else am I supposed to kill an immortal psychopath? I'm open to any suggestions.

  I grit my teeth, willing to end this. My wrist flicks upwards, just nicking the edge of his knee, but the cut is merely a graze: nowhere deep enough to cause any damage at all.

  I try again, the weapon rushing through the air with a whoosh as it slices it apart. This time, Hunter is expecting the blow, and easily knows it away with a fist. a deep gouge runs through the back of his hand like a valley, the river composed of scarlet liquid. He doesn't even flinch.

  "My father wanted to make me stronger," He yells, striding towards me with elegant precision. His fisted hand comes out of nowhere, embedding itself in my stomach. "He wanted to make me the best."

  All the air is expelled from my lungs at the blow, and I back away as my eyes cloud over with agony. But I don't allow myself to fall over. If I fell over, then I was as good as dead, and my day had not yet come.

  Another punch is landed in my abdomen before I can protect myself. "He made me addicted to wolf's bane," he yells, infuriated, but not with me. With his father. Then another blow is landed near my heart. I feel the organ shudder at the bone-shattering punch. "Because he knew it would make me stronger. He knew it would make me the best."

  "And now, if I don't take it, I'm dead," He explains, backing away for a second.

  I almost choke as blood rises up my throat, spilling onto the ground. If I wasn't physically wounded, I would've been astonished that he had opened up to me about something so personal. Because information like that was dangerous in a world like ours. It was information that could certainly get him killed.

  I feel my hope deflate like a popped balloon. The wolf's bane slathered along the crisp blade of my sword couldn't work. And, to be honest, it was a stupid idea in the first place. Hunter was unlike any other werewolf on this Earth, and where the poison would competently render us useless, Hunter would be stuck sitting on his throne of bones and ashes.

  But I'm beyond caring. I didn't need wolf's bane to kill him. Last time I checked, it was pretty hard to re-grow a head.

  When I lash out this time, my blade is met by Hunter's. I abstain to glance into his eyes, so I keep mine glaring a hole into the mixture of mud, blood, and snow beneath my feet. The chromatism is unwelcoming.

  I push forwards, the metal biting into my hand like a wild creature. My body rears with adrenaline, begging for me to shift. I push the thought away. I would be even weaker against Hunter's larger, overpowering wolf form.

  Hunter abruptly lets his muscles go slack, and I find my weapon pressed up against is windpipe. My knee moves upwards to make contact with his groin. The blow hits home, and I watch as Hunter gasps for a deep breath.

  My legs move swiftly. I had been in this situation multiple times in training, which had not all gone in my favour, but this time I was determined to win. For all those battles I had lost in preparation for this one, it had been worth it.

  Hunter falls face first into the mud, his hands not moving quickly enough to break his fall. His body begins to move, but my foot holds him down to keep him from wriggling away. He is weaker than before, despite his recent top-up of wolf's bane. Maybe having too much was slowly poisoning him, turning his blood into venom. Was it eating him from the inside?

  I take in a huge inhalant of oxygen, the air fresh in my lungs like I had just been reborn. This was it. The end.

  I place both of my hands firmly around the hilt of my sword to get enough power to kill him. I'm ready to drive it through his heart when his legs kick out, cleanly knocking mine from under me.

  This time, I'm the one in the mud. My hand falls in the thick, wet substance as I sit up. The top half of my white shirt is blackened by dirt, the polar texture sending a chill down my spine.

  I glance around, both of my hands empty. I must've released my sword when I fell. My right wrist throbs with every beat of my heart: it must be broken.

  I grit my teeth. My hands claw at the mud, pushing me into a seated position. I knew exactly what happened when someone was in this position in a fight. It was clear that the battle was drawing to a close, and I knew that this time I would not be victorious.

  The cold of the mud below my shins is nothing compared to the brittle metal of Hunter's sword as he rests it against my windpipe in the blink of an eye. I wish I could rest my palms against it and shove it off, but his sword was also covered in wolf's bane, definitely from when our two weapons had collided. Both situations meant death, but which one was less painful, I did not know.

  You know how they say that your life flashes before your eyes when you're on the verge of death? Mine doesn't. All I'm left with is a blank canvas, stretching on into the horizon endlessly. My life has not even been worthy enough to be written into a novel.

  The blade at my throat presses ever closer. Hunter must be aware of my refusal to push it away, and I hear him snigger: I've heard the unusual sound enough times to know what it means.

  I can't let it end like this, I tell myself. Tears bleed into my eyes, distorting the world to a maroon hue.

  My swords lies to feet away, and my hands consciously clench, pretending that they're holding it. But I know it's too far away, and as soon as Hunter catches me eyeing it, he kicks it away. I definitely can't reach it now.

  The blade pulses as I swallow.

  "It was nice knowing you, Aurora," Hunter sighs. At least he takes no joy in my demise, as I would his.

  I blink away the river of tears, formed from thoughts conjured up in my mind of Damien and Josh. I couldn't leave them. Not like this, and with Hunter's heart still beating.

  "I wish I could say the same, arsehole," I state solemnly. I try to keep my voice emotionless, but it cracks, just like my soul. The groove is deep; irreparable.

  The blade bites into my skin. And then falls out of Hunter's grasp.

  I feel something liquid splash onto the back of my exposed neck, and almost gag. Hunter's body is rigid and unmoving, and I quickly use the distraction to push his arms away from me. His sword falls onto my lap, and I kick at it to get it off my body. I didn't want to use something cursed by his touch.

  But instead of reaching for my weapon, I freeze. I can't move a muscle.

  My eyes glaze over a familiar set of eyes, the same silky black hair I had seen run past earlier. But this time, her eyes are not filled with fear. They are filled with something much more dark and complex, which I cannot even begin to decipher. And in her hand rests the hilt of a dagger, buried beneath Hunter's skin.

  "Harper!" I scream, half in fear, half in shock. Hunter could easily break her neck with the jolt of his fingers.

  Hunter grabs up the wolf's bane sword from where it lies two meters away, and I am forced to watch in horror as he arcs it around his body without hesitation.

  My heart leaps to my throat. No. She couldn't die. Not for me.

  But Harper steps back just in time, the blade slicing across her cheek, creating a shallow graze. At first, nothing happens. Her posture is strong, defiantly holding out as Hunter rises to his feet like a Phoenix being reborn out of ashes. He pulls the dagger from his back, eyes glowing luminous silver as he snarls at the girl.

  And that's when she falls to the ground, convulsing and sputtering frothing liquid from her mouth like a waterfall. All I can do is watch, powerless to the situation. She had sacrificed herself for me, and this time, I wouldn't forgive myself.

  Seconds pass, and she
lies still.

  I suck in a laboured sob. I can still hear the faint pulsing of her struggling heart as it battles the wolf's bane in her bones, but I know the inevitable. Soon that sound will no longer exist.

  My rage blinds me. Despite my refusal to use it earlier, I pick up Hunter's sword, only for it to be wrenched out of my grip. The man himself stands over me, hovering like an unwelcome ghost.

  So I lash out with my leg, the satisfying feeling of flesh beneath my foot. Hunter gasps, but it's not enough. It will never be enough.

  I kick again, aiming for the groin once more, but the kick misses completely. My vision is streaked with tears, making it nearly impossible to see. I attempt to wipe them away, but Hunter's quick to notice my distraction.

  He gathers up the sword two meters from my feet, snarling like a hell hound. He knows what he has to do, but so do I. Instinct tingles in my fingertips, raring to sink my teeth deep into his flesh.

  My legs involuntarily move towards my previous blade. It glitters in the sunlight, much too beautiful for an object so deadly.

  I never reach it. Hunter latches onto my arm, using his heightened speed to stop me dead in my tracks.

  I will never forget the smile riddled on his face. It distorts the mask he wears, peeling back at the edges to reveal the once innocent boy beneath. He used to a child once - untampered with. It was the rogue life that had done this to him. It was power that had made him such a ferocious beast. And that's why I had never wanted to be Queen of Arla. Why I sacrificed myself, allowing Damien to 'take my life' to win the Alpha Trials. I know what power does to people - it cripples them. It would've shattered me.

  His sword surges straight towards my heart as I am unable to break his hold on my upper arm. It was over. This life would end, just like I had wanted it to so many times in the past.

  I raise my head, feel the wind circulate around my body, ready to take my soul with it. I had always known the outcome of this battle, but I hadn't accepted it, nor had I accepted death as a consequence. But now... Now it didn't seem so bad. When you die, the suffering ends. It's all over. No one needs to worry about you because they know that you are safe, and in a place that no one can so much as touch you.

  I take my last breath.

  And someone shoves hard against my shoulder, knocking me out of the way. I close my eyes, unable to see who it is, but I know what they've done: they've given me a fighting chance. A chance which I refuse to give away.

  My body hits the ground, aching as I land next to my sword. The amber residue entwined within the blade of the sword stands out stark in contrast, the pigment the only evidence of colour in this landscape filled with the cries of death.

  I take it without blinking, and rise to my feet whilst Hunter is preoccupied. My legs are weak, threatening to give way as I stagger towards the devil and the woman who stands on the other end of his sword.

  The girl who knocked me out the way is weapon-less, but she moves like a hurricane across the mud below her worn leather boots. Her brunette tresses shroud her face as she lurches a shuddering punch into Hunter's angular nose. Even from where I am standing, I can hear the ringing crunch of breaking bone.

  "Aurora!" The girl shouts, glancing back at me for a mere second. The azure of her eyes is enough to confirm who she is. Azra. "Get the sword!" She continues, turning back to her enemy. She crouches efficiently as metal swipes above her head. "Now!"

  With her attention elsewhere, I nod. I know she doesn't see it, but I know what she has done for me. I know what she has done for the kingdom.

  My hands shake as I pick up the weapon buried in a rivet of brown snow. And engraved crescent moon on the hilt winks at me. I remember Damien being entrusted with it this morning, Logan's tight hands almost refusing to let it go, for it was the only family heirloom of hers that remained. In fact, my fingers are vibrating so much, alive with nerves, that the iron slips from my grasp. I catch it before it falls back into the icy snow.

  Harper's still body catches in the corner of my eye. I close my eyelids, forcing the world to turn black, and to force the tears to stay away. It feels like I'm holding back a tsunami, my skin threatening to split under the pressure.

  I bite my tongue. It's the only action that manages to keep me from going insane with grief and blame. Blood doesn't spill into my mouth, but I can still taste the lingering metallic tang at the back of my throat.

  I blink once. I had to end this. Now.

  Azra lunges forward, her beautiful face distorted into a veil of anger. I've never seen her so passionate about killing her opponent, but after everything the rogues had done to her, it did not surprise me.

  Her eyes shift past Hunter as he backs away, stumbling over the debris littering the ground. It's the first time I've seen him do so.

  Azra's fist connects with his head as I wrap all ten of my scarred fingers around the wolf's bane sword. It seems pointless to put so much faith in a weapon, but I have no choice. The girl advances, grabbing Hunter's forearm in a bid to shake the blade from his grasp.

  Instead, Hunter pushes the warrior off with ease, as though he were batting away a fly. Her face is a confused mess as she is forced backwards by his sheer strength. Her eyes are wide open.

  And that's when Hunter drives his sword through her abdomen.

  "Azra!" I scream as her azure eyes fill with water. She doesn't have the energy to scream, her fingers twitching as they coil around the object embedded in her chest. Her emotionless features waver, and the stench of fear and death fill my nostrils like a plague.

  I can't breathe.

  My lungs won't contract.

  I refuse to blink.

  "No," I murmur. "No, no, no, no, no." Halfway through my cries of dismay, my voice turns to a gritty whine. It sounds like I've got something lodged in my throat.

  My legs move forward without permission, muscles clenching despite my plea not to. I'm so blinded by rage, by grief, by fear, that I can't stop myself. My mind swells with too many emotions to separate. I can no longer tell love from hate. Emptiness from longing. They all merge into a long string outrage; a fire I can't extinguish. I don't think I want to.

  My steps quicken. Hunter draws out his sword from Azra's chest, blood gushing onto her ripped shirt.

  I don't hesitate to drive my sword straight through his heart.

  Everything turns grey. Hunter doesn't turn around, and I don't want him to. His face will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my living life.

  Unsure whether it'll work or not, I twist the blade, the castle walls impersonating his cries of agony. He had to die this time, and I would burn his dying body if I had to. I wasn't an animal, although it was written into my nature, but I had no remorse for the devil. I kept my mercy stored inside a small pocket of my heart, and it was firmly sealed shut for the monster.

  Hunter makes choking sound. His jaw clenches as he opens it to gasp for a breath of air. His arms flail out unnatural, as though he is convulsing. Black blood splutters onto the ground, mixing with the muddy water to create a deadly concoction.

  Finally, Hunter's legs give way. I take a gulp, finding the courage to wall silently to stand in front of him.

  Blackened blood drips from his eyes like tears made of tar. Blood spills from his mouth, the colour matching the grotesque pigment.

  "What?" Hunter chokes out, spluttering on his own words. He uses the last of his precious energy to wipe away the discoloured blood running down his face. He studies the residue like it's the first time he's seen the world in colour. "What did you do to me?" I have to strain to hear his distorted words.

  I pull my lips into a tight line, squatting next to his face as his body begins to shake tremendously as it battles a losing fight against the poison in his system. "Ever heard of an overdose?"

  Hunter strains to look at me, his white face flushing crimson. He doesn't have enough energy to speak, let alone break his fall as his body toppled onto the ground. My sword sticks out of his back, pierced straight through h
is heart. His hand flops, fingers still vibrating as the life fades from his body. The fingers fall into Azra's dilapidated tresses as he slides in unconsciousness.

  I rise for my squat, shifting my head to the side. My eyes narrow in disbelief, every single one of my limbs numb with relief. But I don't feel a huge weight lift off my shoulders, particularly with both Azra and Harper on the brink of death.

  "For Azra," I hiss, my teeth clenched. "And Harper. And everyone else you've made suffer." I state, finally allowing the tears to streak my eyes. The continuous fountain refuses to stop.