Her mind was steering all sorts of things she liked to keep away. But she needed all the ideas and brutality in the world if she was going to survive. Ten meters, or more as she figured it, people were surrounding her. Eleven. Her eyes counted them. And they were staring at her with such hostility that sent shivers down her spine.
She had her gun, and it was loaded with bullets. But how fast would she be able to shoot eleven men scattered around the room? It was impossible. Nonetheless, she had to try. She had to save herself.
They were still watching her. Whatever was keeping them from attacking her was far beyond Emma’s reasoning. Maybe they were aroused by her defenseless looks and just viewed her as a lump of fresh, tender meat. Whatever, she would have to use their underestimation as her strength.
It happened in a second. She reached and pulled her gun, but he was faster than her, faster and stronger.
She didn’t even have a second to aim, Callus had launched himself towards her, his feet barely skimming the ground. Her gun received the first strike, snapped into two, and flew from her hand like a shooting star.
Emma leaped back to avoid an instant hit from Callus, but a foot landed on her back, sending her to the ground. She sprawled forward, but even as she fell, she spun around immediately, dodging Callus’ nails aimed at her, which had now grown exceedingly, resembling claws. Rather, they were claws.
Emma wasn’t slow. She sprang up, knocking a few crates over and dodging a kick from behind her.
They were not serious with her, she could tell. She was a game to Callus and not them. But she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of killing her easily.No. She would fight to the end and break some ribs if she could.
In a split second, she pulled her knife hidden in her boot and flung herself towards Callus with a force that knocked him back as the blade connected with his shoulder.
The smell of blood that clung to her nose confirmed that her move was successful. Callus staggered back, blood dripping from his injured shoulder. Her attack had caught him off guard, and he was furious.
Emma, however, was relentless, she swung towards him again but this time, Callus blocked the attack and countered with a blow to her stomach. His strong foot connected with her stomach and Emma was blown across the room, landing with a thud on the stacked crates.
She screamed as her spine connected with the crates, the pain rippling across her back. Callus charged, straight at her, his eyes gleaming with wickedness and anger.
With just a second to contemplate, Callus grabbed her hair, his fingers digging into her scalp as he lifted her until she was dangling on the tips of her toes. Then he slammed her to a pillar, blood trickling down her temple.
He struck her again, this time, on her face, over and over. She tasted blood and his hand was completely drenched in her blood. He wrapped his hand around her neck, tightening his grip as she struggled to set herself free.
She was dangling in the air, held against the pillar by Callus, as he gripped her neck furiously. Emma was kicking violently, her head fuzzy with pain and dizziness, as he continued to squeeze down on her throat.
She could feel her strength leaving her. She could feel her arms weakening. She didn’t have any strength left to fight him, and her desperate struggle was yielding nothing.
But then it struck her. Her mind made one last attempt to save her.
With one last desperate attempt, she shoved her hand into her pockets and before Callus could react to her sudden movement, she pulled out a pepper spray and whipped some of its content at his face. He barely dodged it. With a loud growl, he released her, fell backward, and she crumpled to the ground immediately.
Her head was throbbing and blood was dripping from her face. She knew the effect of the pepper spray wouldn’t buy her enough time. Others were circling her closely, ready to jump in once Callus was unable to kill her. She needed a miracle to survive.
Luckily, her eyes caught her knife lying unnoticed a few meters from her. Instantly, she poured on the speed she had left, crawling with her side to the tiny blade. But Callus lunged after her.
She scrambled desperately towards the knife, but he caught her leg and drew her back to himself. Struggling, she tried to kick him in the face, but he caught her second leg and yanked hard.
Her head rocked against the ground, adrenaline rushing through her as he pulled her to himself. The next thing, she was lifted and Callus violently pushed her against the wall. His eyes were vicious, and he seemed to be tired of all the games. He wanted to end her.
As Emma struggled against his power, her face bloodied, her head pounding and cuts across her body, her mind raced to her parents. It was over. It was finally over.
She had met the same fate as her parents. Untimely death. He was going to slit her throat and she would cease to exist. Forgotten. Died as a result of her hero syndrome. She should have listened to the warnings.
Callus lifted his hand, his sinister eyes burning with fury and his claws thick and long. He was about to kill her.
It must have been adrenaline because Emma curled her hand into a fist and aimed for his face, but her fist ended up flying past his head while she was suddenly catapulted away from Callus. Wait… What was going on?
She was thrown across the room, slamming her rips against the ground and moaning loudly as the pain rippled across her chest. The pain was enough to make her pass out, but she was on a battleground. She struggled to rise but fell back weakly as her tired body could not handle the pain anymore.
A loud, fierce growl reverberated through the air, causing her to stagger back as she struggled to rise to her feet. She froze.
A pair of cold black eyes like polished onyx was staring at her. They were wild and vicious. The man who she was unable to identify had now replaced her, standing amid her attackers.
He looked terrifying, with dark veins protruding around his bulging muscles. He was larger and fiercer than them. She knew, of course, he wasn’t human. Who was he, and why was he trying to save her?
Before she could grasp what was happening, Emma heard the crunching of bones and a wet slapping sound similar to that of a skin stretching. Her attacker’s features became more feral, their eyes changing and their faces contorting. Their fingers thickened, becoming dangerous claws, and their ears swooped back. They became a bit taller than they were, their feet growing longer and ankles raised off the ground. Loud grunts and snarls filled the room as their teeth extended into fangs and fur burst across their form. Emma watched fearsomely as they transformed into creatures she had never seen in her life. Eleven horrible creatures were crouching and circling their prey, who were standing undisturbed by their transformation. Their humaneness was replaced by beastly features. Whoever or whatever the man was, he was not frightened by them. But it wasn’t a fair fight, and he didn’t transform like them. Emma shuddered, struggling to keep her composure as she watched them standing in an
Standing in the middle of destruction, his chest rising and falling, Clyde slowly raised his black vacant eyes to meet his mate who had watched him tear apart limbs and heads. She was coiled in a corner, her eyes screaming fear. He took a step closer, disappearing into the darkness for only a brief moment before reappearing only inches away from her. He was standing before her, his soulless black eyes staring into hers. She was unable to suppress her fear and trembled beneath him. He couldn't discern if she was terrified of the massive head he held like a trophy or his demeanor. He didn't have to know that. All he knew was that she was terrified of him. He didn't blame her. He killed eleven men, who she watched transform into unknown creatures far from humans. He didn't kill them with a gun or knife like she intended. No. He had ripped off their heads with his hands, bathing himself with the blood of her enemies. She should, of course, be terrified of him. Power flushed through
Emma's eyelid fluttered, then flew open. She was covered in a cold sweat, her heart pounding as she glanced around the room, paranoid that the horror in her dream may have followed her back. Fortunately, she was alone. A low groan escaped her lips as she tried to turn on the bed. She was hurting, but she hadn't realized it until then. She stared down at herself. She was still fully dressed. She had been sleeping on her bed, in her brightly colored room flooded with light. But something wasn't right. The first indication of that was her bruised body. Her head ached with pain and her neck had weird scratch marks. She didn't remember getting into a fight or changing into the pajamas she had woken up with. The second was her bedsheet, which was covered in blood stains. Looking around her room, her eyes caught her overall, lying close to the bathroom door, and the memories of her night flooded her mind instantly. She hadn't been dreaming. It was all real. The attack, the creatures, th
She muttered something under her breath as she walked into the building, mentally prepared to face her boss and partner. But as she walked in, the chaos and tension in the air told her that she might after all slip and walk away unnoticed. Emma watched as people darted back and forth within the department. Heads were huddled together in a corner as they spoke in low tones discussing an event or occurrence that seemed to hold much importance. Her boss was speaking to someone on the phone, pacing hurriedly in his office and her partner's attention was undivided as he read through files. 'Serial Killer...' her ears picked up from the group in the corner. Emma swallowed heavily, she had no idea what had happened but she knew it was devastating. She prayed silently, that it wasn't as gruesome as everyone's reaction made it seem.Walking to her partner at his desk, she greeted him. "Morning Allen, How are you?..."Looking up at her, he replied immediately. "Where have you been all morning
She remembered how these men had transformed into weird creatures before her eyes. She remembered how they howled and fought like beasts. She had remembered the furs, the extended limbs and the claws. But yet, none of the pictures captured these details. Was she hallucinating? It was impossible to believe otherwise as she stared at the pictures of eleven murdered humans. "I'm leaving..." Emma jumped in surprise as Allen tapped her shoulders. "Are you okay?.." He asked, observing her shocked expression. "Ummmm...Yeah..." She lied. "I was just reading through the files. This is a very bizarre case...""Well, the autopsy results would be ready tomorrow and we'll probably have a lead..." He sighed. "For now, I'm heading home...""Ok. I'm just going to stay back for a while..." Emma said leaning casually against her chair. "I think I have some other files to review..."Allen nodded, then strode hurriedly away. There were several thoughts in her mind as she watched him leave. She shook he
Clyde took a brisk step backwards, letting himself sit comfortably on her bed. "You might want to sit down for this....""No, thank you..." "It's your bedroom, Emma Watson..." He replied with an injured expression. "You should sit...""No. I. Don't. Want. To. Sit. On. The. Bed..." She replied firmly. "Or close to you..." She finally breathed. "Why? You think I'm a monster?..." He was amused. Did she think backing away from him could stop him if he desired to kill her? She would have been dead the minute she walked in if he intended to kill her. She blinked. "You killed those men..." It wasn't a question. He didn't think so. It was an affirmation that she did think of him as a monster. "Did I commit a crime?...""The murders are being investigated...""Are they now?..." The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. There was a slight tone of mockery and mischief in his last question. Her words were clipped. "I ask again..." She drew her breath. "What are you doing here?...""I
He didn't intend to transform fully for fear that she would pass out. He just had to show her that he wasn't what he looked like. Clyde watched as she took unwilling steps backwards as his werewolf features began to surface. She was nearly wheezing, nearly hyperventilating as his bones began to crunch. He watched as she tried to remain brave but she was coming apart. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared with the force of rapid breathing. She jumped with fright as a low growl escaped his mouth. With just a little transformation, Emma only stared at him motionlessly. He had expected her to scream, he had been prepared to stifle a thundering cry for help. But she however did neither. She remained unmoving, her eyes focused on him. Sensing that she had seen enough of what he intended for her to see, Clyde began to slowly shift back to his human form. He was surprised that she hasn't flung her purse at him or run out. But perhaps, because she had seen worse within the past hours. E
His eyes searched her face for any reaction when he stopped speaking. Surprisingly, she burst into fits of laughter. Clyde's eyebrows twisted with fury and he clenched his fists. "You find what I say funny?..." Giggling, she nodded. "Yes, I do. How long did you have to rehearse this?..." But he wasn't amused. And he was certainly struggling to bottle up his anger. He did not doubt that if she pushed him again, he would lose it. She shook her head with gusto. "No?..." And then silence settled over the room as she realized that he was indeed telling the truth. It was like the true meaning of his words caught the light in her head. There was not a glimmer of amusement or smile around Clyde's face. His chiseled face was rigid, bearing visible anger as he focused his gaze on her. "You're not joking..." She admitted. Clyde wondered if his expression had ever pointed out that he could be joking. He wondered if she had gone blind for the minute he had shifted before her. As much as he f