Horror Show

Horror Show
Lilieth 
I don't have time to be shocked. 
The second Petra sees me, she comes running. Usually, I'm alert and ready to fight, but right now, I'm partially paralyzed by fear. When she crashes into me, we both hit the ground, but thankfully, I land on my side. 
Petra, who's now unrecognizable and feral, slashes me with her knife, cutting me right in the forearm. The pain activates my fight or flight, and my grip on my knife tightens. I block her next attack and cut her right in the abdomen. It slices through her top and leaves a thin red line across her skin. 
She looks down at the cut and smiles. 
While my focus is on her, I'm thinking about Wenton and what he's waiting for to attack. The sight of his face shocks me, because he's wearing an eyepatch and his face is scarred, much like mine is. Is that from the arrow I shot at him? I remember seeing blood.
I don't have time to think about this too deeply, though. That doesn't matter. 
If they form a team against me, I'm done for. I won't be able to fight both of them off, especially since they're both armed. 
If the Gammas outside have been killed, which is what I suspect, then I'm in real trouble here. We're in the middle of nowhere, and no one is coming. 
"Why are you doing this?" I ask Petra. I understand Wenton's motivations, but not hers. Also, I'm hoping that talking will help distract her just enough to grant me an advantage in this fight. 
"Why?" she echoes before scoffing. "Because you beat me, Omega, and you humiliated me before my entire pack. Even the man I was going to marry chose you—do you think that's something easy for me to live with? My father was disappointed in me when he died. Cadeon killed him—did you know?"
Wenton is watching us from the other side of the living room, tapping his knife against his chin. If he had a gun, he'd kill me on the spot and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it, but he probably chose a knife so he could make me suffer. 
He's a sadist, after all. A monster.
What's he waiting for?
"What does that have to do with me? I did what I was supposed to do. I had to defend myself. And you don't even care about Cadeon—you were in love with someone else!"
"Yeah, yeah. But my motivations are none of your business, are they? All you have to worry about is fighting for your life, and I see that your skills are rusty."
She tries to stab me again, pointing the blade at my belly. I lose my mind and slash her across the face wildly, my instincts taking over. I should shift and run, but I'd have to run around the counter, and that small delay would lead to my death. 
Wenton would either throw the knife at me or shift and attack me on the spot. 
I keep slashing at Petra until she's covered in cuts. I'm getting a few, too, but mostly on the legs. I won't let this bitch hurt my baby—this feeling takes over me immediately. 
She screams and stabs me in the leg. I back away, limping, as the pain of the stab wound distracts me. Petra wipes her hand across her bloody nose, glaring at me. 
Dammit, I've been stabbed. 
Wenton chuckles. Petra shoots him an enraged look and asks him, "What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole?"
"You told me you'd kill her in under a minute, remember?" he asks. "You begged me to come here so you could show her you were a better fighter. You wanted to prove it to yourself. But you're getting your ass kicked all over again. Have you seen the way you look? Need a mirror?"
Petra looks down at her arms, covered in cuts. I have to find a way to get this knife out of my leg without losing a lot of blood. A whimper leaves her lips as she takes notes of all the cuts, and when her eyes meet mine, she becomes enraged. 
A growl leaves her lips and she shifts to gain an upper hand over me. She lunges at me in wolf form, but I stab her side with the knife in my hand. That doesn't deter her, though. Her jaws close around my arm, and I have to think quickly before she rips it off. 
I pull the knife out of my leg, the pain nothing compared to her teeth trying to grind my arm to dust, and stab her in the eye. 
Petra drops dead immediately. 
On the other side of the room, Wenton laughs. I clutch my wounded arm to my chest and watch as blood stains my pants an even darker shade of black. I have to remove the knife from her eye so I can have a weapon to use against Wenton. 
Because he'll definitely try to attack me. That's what he came here for. 
"Well done, Omega," he says as he puts his knife under his armpit so he can clap his hands. "See? Not so useless after all, are you? You're pretty good, I'll give you that. You have...good instincts."
I don't say a word. I'm enduring waves of pain, fearing for my baby, and trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Right now, my future seems so uncertain. What's going to happen? How will I fight him off?
I could try, and I would never have hesitated if it weren't for this baby inside of me. But things are different now. If I die, I don't die alone. 
And this cruel bastard will make it hurt. He'll make sure I suffer the same way Anice did. 
I can't let him get an advantage over me. I have to do something. 
Wenton tilts his head to the side and stops applauding. "I bet you're wondering how you'll get out of this situation, huh? I'm faster than you'll ever be. Try to run and I'm right behind you. You can't win me in a knife fight. What will you do then, great improviser? Hm?"
My hand starts to shake. I hate that this is happening to me. 
It's like my body's shutting down. 
"Look at what you've done to me. Look." He raises the eye patch and I see the full extent of the damage I caused. His eye is gone, and instead, a black hole is staring back at me. Red scars are running down the socket, pinching the skin of his cheek whenever he speaks. "I did that to you, and you did this to me. Now we're even. But you know what? I refuse to be even with someone like you. I have to gain the upper hand. Always."
He takes a few steps toward me, and I back away until I hit the counter. He stops a few feet away from the door, looks to the side, and then a knife hits him on the side and he goes crashing down. His knife clatters to the ground, out of his reach. 
A horrified sound escapes my lips, but relief floods me when Draven walks through the door. Our eyes meet, and relief floods his face. 
"Lilieth," he exhales, starting toward me. "You're alive!"
My gaze flickers to Wenton, who's lying on the ground unconvincingly. I can't see his face, but I know for a fact that he isn't dead. Draven starts toward me, his eyes on my face and not on Wenton. 
My eyes widen and I yell his name. "Draven! No!"
In a flash, Wenton twists around, removes the knife from his side, and throws it at Draven. It lodges deep at the base of his neck, and Draven stiffens before sinking to his knees.
I cry out and reach for him before his head hits the ground. Wenton's smiling at me from his position on the ground, flashing his bloody teeth at me. Draven's body is twitching, and tears blur my vision. 
"Draven," I say his name. "Please. Don't. Stay with me!"
He barely says a word. Blood bubbles out of his mouth, staining his chin. Then, he's gone. 
Just like that. 
I look up and see Wenton crawling toward his knife. I clench my jaw, search around, and see that Draven's gun is by his hip. I remove it from the holster, cock it, and point it at Wenton, who faces me again with his knife in his hand. 
My hand is shaking with nerves. I close one eye to aim well. 
Wenton exclaims. Blood's spilling between his fingers as he clutches his bleeding side. I have to shoot. Have to aim. Why is my hand shaking so much? He says, "Think I'll give you the satisfaction of killing me? Think again."
I watch in horror and he slices his own neck before dropping back on the ground. 
My mouth is agape.