Chapter 6: The Fight

Pain flared through my wrist, as my eyes fluttered open, and immediately I noticed I was in a partially broken warehouse.

 The coarse ropes dug into my skin, holding my arms tight behind the chair. Panic surged, my breath coming fast and shallow as I yanked against the bindings, but they didn’t budge.  

My heart hammered as I looked up—and there he was. Martin.  

He leaned casually against the wall, his eyes fixed on me like a predator sizing up its prey. The corners of his mouth curved into a slow, sinister smile that sent a chill racing down my spine.  

“You’re awake.” His voice was smooth, too smooth, like oil over fire. “Good. I was getting bored.”  

I forced the fear down and lifted my chin. “Lwt me go bastard or you'd be a dead meat” My voice shook, but I didn’t care. “Raphael will find you. And when he does…”  

“Raphael?” Martin’s laugh cut me off mockingly. 

“You really think he’s coming for you? That’s adorable.” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing me whole. “Your precious Raphael has no idea where you are. And even if he did…” He bent down, his face so close I could feel his breath. “By the time he gets here, all he’ll find is your broken, used body dumped on the floor.”  

I spat in his face, fury burning through the fear that clawed at my chest.  

His smile vanished and immediately he slapped me hard, snapping my head to the side. Pain exploded through my cheek, but I refused to let him see the tears pooling in my eyes.  

“You’re going to regret that.” His voice dropped, low and dangerous.  

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Raphael isn’t untouchable. He’s just a man, Martha. And men bleed.”  

I tried to jerk away, but his grip tightened.  

“You know what the best part is?” Martin leaned closer, his voice dripping venom. “When Raphael finally finds this place, it’ll be too late. He’ll get to pick up what’s left of you—and when I’m done with him, there won’t be enough left to bury.”  

I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine.  

His hand moved suddenly, grabbing my breast through my dress. I jerked back, but the chair kept me in place. “No!” I shouted, thrashing against the ropes.  

Martin just smirked.  

The sound of fabric tearing filled the room, and my breath hitched as he ripped my dress apart, leaving me exposed. My skin prickled as the cold air hit my body.  

“Please… stop,” I begged, hating the weakness in my voice.  

But he didn’t stop.  

His hands roamed, rough and possessive, and I couldn’t fight back. My screams only seemed to fuel him as he shoved me back against the chair, his lips trailing down my chest and my stomach twisted.  

Suddenly, a thunderous crash split the air, the door burst off its hinges, slamming to the floor with a deafening bang.  

Martin spun around, his eyes widening just before two gunshots rang out.  

Bang! Bang!  

Blood sprayed across the room as the bullets ripped through his shoulder, throwing him backward. He hit the ground hard, writhing and cursing.  

And then I saw him.  

Raphael.  

He stood in the doorway, gun still smoking in his hand, his eyes glowing red with fury. My breath caught—he looked like a demon dragged straight out of hell.  

His gaze flicked to me, and the sight of my torn dress and bruised skin made something inside him snap.  

A guttural growl tore from his throat, his nails elongating into claws as fur began to spread across his skin. He didn't look like a werewolf…he was a lycan?

In a flash, he was across the room, grabbing Martin by the throat and lifting him off the ground like he weighed nothing.  

Martin choked, clawing at the hand crushing his windpipe.  

But Raphael didn’t stop.  

He threw Martin across the room, slamming him through the shattered glass window. The sound of breaking glass filled the air as Martin screamed, his body vanishing into the night and falling down the building and even though it was scary, it felt satisfying.  

Raphael turned to me then, his red eyes still glowing, his chest heaving with rage. For one terrifying second, I thought he was still lost in the fury.  

In a second he was in front of me, his claws retracting as he gently brushed his hand over my exposed skin. I flinched, but his touch was soft, almost reverent, as he fixed my torn clothes and untied the ropes.  

I collapsed against him, my whole body shaking. He didn’t hug me back, didn’t say anything—just held me steady.  

“I’m going to kill him.” He gritted, his tone was deadly calm. “I’ll burn every piece of his empire and leave nothing but ashes.”  

I shivered at the raw promise in his words.  

A sudden noise snapped my attention to the door. Two more men burst in, guns raised.  

Raphael shoved me behind him in one swift motion. Two shots rang out, and the men hit the floor, unmoving.  

His bodyguards stormed in right after, scanning the room before turning to him.  

“Get her out of here,” Raphael ordered.  

“No!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I don’t want to leave you!”  

His eyes locked onto mine, and the growl that rumbled from his chest made my knees go weak. “Go,” he said, low and final. “Wait for me at home.”  

I wanted to fight him—but I couldn’t. Not when he looked at me like that.  

The guards grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit. I didn’t dare look back.  

As I reached the hallway, I heard Raphael’s let out a roar filled with rage, and I felt the walls trembled, the ground vibrating beneath my feet.  

Then came the crash of shattered glass, and I knew.  

Raphael was gone.  

And Martin’s empire was about to fall.