30

The battleground continues to resonate with sounds of metal and rage, the aroma of blood heavy in the atmosphere. My muscles ache, my breaths are quick and ragged, yet the fight continues. Not at this time. Success is a temporary mirage, one I've never been naïve enough to trust in. And then it occurs. A glimmer of silver in the edge of my sight. A motion too swift, too deliberate. I pivot just in time to catch a glimpse of Lisa maneuvering through the turmoil, her demeanor unsettlingly serene amidst the destruction. Her blade—narrow and shining—has already penetrated deeply into Liam’s side before I can intervene. The noise it produces is nauseating, a harsh shhk as metal connects with skin. Liam’s body convulses forcefully. His lips separate, eyes growing wide in disbelief. The world contracts to that one instant, to the way his breathing halts, to the blood—so much blood—pouring from the injury. Lisa retreats, observing with harsh pleasure as Liam falters, his legs shaky under him. And that’s when I notice it—the eerie gleam covering the blade, the gradual, stealthy manner in which the toxin ensnares. Not merely wolfsbane. Something more sinister. Something unfamiliar. Panic grips me. Lisa shifts her gaze toward me, her lips twisting into an aware smile. "An Alpha King can bleed too." The earth appears to move under me as Liam sways, fighting to remain standing. I dash ahead, grabbing him just prior to his total collapse. His weight almost causes me to falter, but I remain steady, one arm encircling his back while the other presses against the injury, attempting—unsuccessfully—to halt the bleeding. “Liam,” I murmur, my voice strained with a fear that feels perilously close. "Remain with me." His breath comes in shallow gasps, and his skin feels colder with every passing second. I lift my gaze, my sight narrowing with fury, but Lisa is already slipping back into the shadows, vanishing like mist. This was never about triumphing in the conflict. This was about ensuring my defeat. Liam's fingers weakly grip my arm, pulling my focus back to him. His jaw tightens, agony flashing behind his stormy gray eyes. “Nina,” he breathes, his hold loosening. No. No, I can’t allow this to occur. My hands tremble as I apply more pressure on the injury, urgent, panicked. "Don't you even think about it," I manage to say. "Don't even think about abandoning me." The toxin is acting quickly. Too quick. And for the first time in a long while, I feel powerless. I'm unsure if I can rescue him. But I must attempt it. I notice the blade too late. A gleam of silver, a blur of movement at the edge of my sight, and then—shhk. The noise of metal piercing skin pierces the battlefield, paralyzing me in place. My breath halts as Liam’s form jerks from the blow, his storm-gray eyes filling with disbelief. For an instant, he stands still. Then his mouth opens, but he can’t speak—only a strained, agonized breath escapes as blood spreads across his side, spilling over the handle of the knife buried deep within his body. The world shifts. All—the turmoil of the fight, the bodies littered on the blood-drenched earth, the muted snarls and clanging of metal—focuses on this single instant. Liam staggers backward, his legs collapsing under him. I hardly notice the scream that escapes my throat as I dive forward, grabbing him before he falls entirely. His weight is substantial, pulling me down to my knees as I hold him close. Lisa approaches She leans back, her hand coated in his blood, and tilts her head with subtle satisfaction. The blade remains embedded in his side, its edges shimmering with something viscous and unnatural. The aroma of wolfsbane hits me initially, pungent and poisonous, but there’s an additional layer underlying it—something alien, something more sinister. Liam’s breath catches as his body jerks against mine. Lisa grins. "You’re unable to rescue him." Her tone is gentle, nearly sympathetic, yet the harshness underlying it pierces more profoundly than the blade she just plunged into him. "You never were able to." Fury floods me, intense and overwhelming, but just as I’m about to respond—just as I’m ready to tear her to shreds with my hands—she disappears. Fading into the darkness, weaving through the debris like vapor, leaving only the devastation of her malice behind. I don’t pursue her. I can’t. Because Liam’s body twitches again, a shattered breath escaping his mouth, and I understand—he’s perishing. No. No, no, no. I push my hands onto the injury, panicked, urgent. His blood is smooth and heated, flowing over my fingers in dense, constant streams. It will not cease. It won't cease. "Liam." My voice trembles as I adjust my hold, supporting his head against my chest. "Remain with me." Can you hear me? "Remain with me." His breathing is irregular and shallow. Too superficial. His fingers move feebly on my arm, reaching for something invisible. His stare, hazy and far-off, glances at my face before drifting toward the heavens. He’s fading. The burden of history overwhelms me like an unyielding tide. I recall a different moment, another evening, when we were intertwined in each other's embrace—free from blood, free from hurt, but in something once gentle and unspoiled by conflict. I recall how he gazed at me, how he softly said my name as if it were the sole reality in his universe. That Liam—the one who embraced me as if I were his sanctuary, the one who promised to keep me safe at any price—cannot perish here. Not in this manner. I jolt him, my own breathing uneven. "Do not even think about abandoning me," I gasp. “Not at this moment.” “Not after all that.” He softly groans but remains silent. Tears begin to blur my vision. I shut my eyes tightly and apply more pressure on the injury, struggling to keep my hands steady while my thoughts crumble. I will not allow him to die. I will not. However, the poison is acting quickly. It’s moving too quickly. I have no idea how to halt it. For the first time in years, I feel entirely, utterly powerless.