Chapter 186 CHAPTER 186

Chapter 186 CHAPTER 186
Emma's POV
The wolf lunged.

I threw myself sideways, my body twisting in the air. Its jaws snapped shut where my throat had been—inches away. I felt the wind of its passage, the heat of its breath, the sheer terror of something that was built to kill me. I hit the dirt hard, the impact driving the air from my lungs, rolling, scrambling to my feet. My hands were shaking. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might explode.

And then I felt something familiar.

Weight on my hip. Cold metal against my thigh.

I looked down.

The gun was there. My gun. The one I had been trained to use since I was fourteen, the one my father had taught me to hold before he'd even let me touch a real weapon. And strapped to my other leg was the blade—the reinforced steel knife my father had given me on my sixteenth birthday, the one with the worn leather grip and the small engraving on the blade that said "For my fierce girl."

The stakes were in a holster at my back. The silver-laced rope hung at my belt. The phone was in my pocket, the one with the encrypted emergency channels.

I was not defenseless.

The wolf circled me, its red eyes fixed on mine, its body low and ready. It was huge, black as shadow, its muscles rippling with every movement. Its jaws hung slightly open, black saliva dripping from its teeth. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.

But I had a gun. And I knew how to use it.

I drew the weapon. My hands were shaking, but they steadied as I raised it, aiming at the center of its chest.

"Come on," I said. My voice was rough, but steady. "Come on, you son of a bitch."

The wolf snarled. It lunged again.

I fired.

The crack of the gunshot echoed through the stone space, sharp and deafening. The bullet hit its shoulder, a dark gash opening in its fur, black blood seeping out. The wolf stumbled, its momentum carrying it past me. It didn't go down. It didn't stop. It just shook its head and came at me again, its eyes burning even brighter.

I fired again. This time it hit its chest, and the wolf staggered, a low growl rumbling in its throat. It wasn't dying. It was just angry.

I backed up, keeping the gun trained on it. My hands were steady now, my training taking over. The wolf circled, watching me, its red eyes burning with hatred. It was learning. It was reading my movements.

"Emma." Elara's voice was steady, cutting through the chaos. "It's not going to fall to bullets. It's a spirit. It has no body to destroy. You must break its will."

"How?" I shouted, firing another round that grazed its snout. "How do I break its will?"

"By proving you are stronger. By proving you are its master. It will not respect your weapons. It will only respect your dominance."

I gritted my teeth. The wolf circled, and I circled with it, keeping my distance. The stone walls pressed in around us, cold and damp. The air was thick with the smell of blood and rot.

"Okay," I muttered. "Okay. Dominance. I can do that."

The wolf lunged again.

This time I didn't dodge. I met it head-on.

I dropped the gun and grabbed the wolf by its neck. My fingers sank into its thick fur, my grip finding the muscle beneath. It snapped at me, its jaws closing around my arm, teeth sinking deep. I felt the pain, white-hot and blinding, blood pouring down my arm. But I held on.

"NO!" I screamed, the word tearing out of me. "YOU WILL NOT TAKE ME!"

I drove the knife into its shoulder. The blade sank deep, and the wolf howled—a raw, broken sound that shook the space around us. It thrashed, trying to break free, but I held on. I felt its muscles bunching, its body twisting, trying to throw me off.

I dragged the knife across its chest, cutting deep. Black blood poured out, thick and hot, splattering across my face. The wolf snarled, its eyes blazing with fury. It was hurting. I had made it hurt.

But it didn't break.

It twisted, catching me off guard. Its claws raked across my face, and I felt the world tear apart.

Pain exploded through my eye. I screamed, my hand flying to my face. Blood poured between my fingers, hot and thick, soaking into my hair, dripping onto my chest. I staggered back, my vision blurring, one eye dark and useless. The world tilted around me, swimming in a haze of agony.

"You—" I gasped, the word barely making it out. "You bastard—"

The wolf shook its head, blood dripping from its wounds. It looked at me with something that might have been contempt. It was enjoying this.

It lunged again.

I raised the knife, but I couldn't see properly. One eye was gone—I could feel the empty socket, the raw, torn flesh. My aim was off. I swung, but the wolf was faster.

It slammed into me, its weight driving me to the ground. The knife flew from my hand, clattering across the dirt. The stakes, the rope, the phone—all scattered out of reach. I felt them leave me, felt the last of my defenses slip away.

I was weaponless.

The wolf pinned me down, its massive paws pressing into my chest. Its jaws were inches from my face, its breath hot and foul. Its red eyes locked onto mine.

"NO—" I gasped, pushing against its chest. My hands were slipping on its fur, slick with black blood.

But I was too weak. Too broken. The wolf was stronger. I could feel its weight, its power, its absolute certainty that this was the end.

It opened its jaws. Its teeth gleamed, sharp and wet with black blood.

It was going to tear me apart.