Chapter 106

106\. Ethan.

"I don't feel too good son."

My vision was obstructed by a warm liquid and I touched it, surprised to see my own blood. "What—what do you mean, Father?" I struggled to move. I had suffered a massive concussion from the crash. "Where are you?"

Father's groan turned into a strained cry. "Hurgh! Over here, I'm stuck!" His voice was muffled, and I could sense the desperation creeping in. I turned toward the sound, eyes scanning the wreckage until I spotted him. The driver was truly dead, because his neck had snapped, with the vertebrae sticking out the side.

The acrid smell of burning metal and toxic fumes wafted through the air, stinging my nostrils and making my eyes water. It was a pungent, irritating scent, but it had an unexpected effect – it jolted me awake, clearing the fog from my head. I was suddenly wide awake, my senses on high alert. "Father—"

My gaze fell upon the devastation. A large section of the van's roof and a tree had been sheared off, crushing Father beneath its twisted metal. Only his upper body was free, his legs pinned down by the heavy debris. For a moment, panic threatened to overwhelm me, but I managed to rein in my emotions, focusing on the task at hand.

"Shit!" The curse slipped out as I rushed to his side. I summoned my powers, feeling the familiar surge of energy coursing through my veins. "Hold on, let me lift this off!" I said, ready to use my abilities to free him.

But Father's grip on my arm stayed me. "Wait! Wait! Let's do it together!" he groaned, his voice strained from the effort. His eyes began to glow with an otherworldly light, and I felt the air around us charged with anticipation. He morphed into a werewolf, his body shifting into a grey colored humanoid wolf.

In his werewolf form, Father's strength was amplified just like mine, and he gripped the mangled metal with ease. I positioned myself on the other side, mirroring his stance. Our eyes met, and we nodded in unison.

"On my mark! Heave!" Father's voice was now a low, commanding growl, and I echoed the command, pouring all my strength into lifting the debris.

Together, we strained against the metal, our combined might slowly but surely lifting it off Father's legs. Father rolled away from the mess and coughed. The van was upside down and not a soul was in view. It was likely that our car had fallen far away from the road. Our prisoner was hurt, but he was slowly trying to make his way ahead even as a literal war was happening outside.

"Aha! Not so fast!" I grabbed his leg. Just like us, he was bleeding in places after the accident. "Where do you think you are going?"

"You will perish and meet your fate here, you will die here!" He shrieked. "Let me go—"

Blood splashed on my body, and I realised that our prisoner was missing a face. I suddenly ducked, straining my eyes in the darkness when a second shot rang beside me.

"Shit! Sniper!" I yelled, instinctively moving backwards into the van as bullets whizzed past my head, pinging off the metal exterior. I dropped to the floor, lying low to avoid the hail of gunfire. My heart was racing, my senses on high alert. Father lay against the wall, clutching his stomach, his face twisted in pain. He was groaning, the sound low and guttural, and I knew he needed medical help, fast.

I crawled over to him, my eyes scanning the area for any sign of the sniper. "Dad, hang in there, I've got to get you out of here," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. But Father's gaze locked onto mine, his eyes surprisingly lucid despite the pain.

"It seems...whatever our prisoner knew," he gasped, wincing as he struggled to speak, "Sirius and his goons want it kept a secret. They even killed their own man." He shook his head.

I crouched beside him. "Come on, you are in no position to talk." I glanced outside, looking for movements in the tree that would reveal the sniper's position.

"I'm fucking fine!" He coughed.

I transformed into a werewolf. "Wait for my call, I will be right back."

"Ethan, don't blitz by yourself outside—"

I sprinted out of the van, dropping to all fours like a beast unleashed, and burst into a superhuman sprint towards the trees. Bullets whizzed past me, their sharp reports echoing through the air, but I zigzagged with ease, making myself a difficult target. My eyes locked onto the sniper perched high above, fifty meters to my right, his rifle trained on me. I could hear Chekov's voice, shouting orders to the remaining men as they struggled to fend off the ambushers.

As I closed in on the sniper's position, I spotted a large rock half-buried in the underbrush. I snatched it up, feeling its weight and momentum, and hurled it at the tree trunk with all my might. The rock crashed into the wood, shaking the branches, and the sniper lost his footing. He leapt from his perch, momentarily airborne, and that's when I struck.

I launched myself at him, my body a human missile, and slammed him against the tree trunk with bone-jarring force. The impact was immense, my shoulders screaming in protest, but the sniper's body absorbed the brunt of the blow. Bones snapped, equipment shattered, and the sniper's cry was cut short as the wind was knocked out of him. He slid down the trunk, a limp, broken form, his rifle slipping from his grasp. I stood over him, watching if he would get on his feet but he was passed out cold.

A bullet fell to the ground and I picked it up, releasing it immediately after the searing sensation of fire met my fingers. The bullet was made with silver.

I ran back to the van and lifted my father over my shoulders. "Just hang on father, we will soon be joining the others."

"Argh!" Father yelled as we went down the path.

It was pitch black in the forest, and it didn't help that the path was soft mud and dead leaves. Tracer bullets wheezed overhead and the sound of gunshots continued through the night. As I caught up with Chekov on the road, I was surprised to see him and two men pinned behind a car by the enemy fire.

"My lord!" Chekov exclaimed. He blew a sigh of relief. "I'm relieved nothing happened—" he saw his father on my shoulder.

"We need medical help, what's the situation here?" I laid my father against the wall of the vehicle we took cover in.

Chekov twitched his jaw muscles and pointed over the car. "We are pinned down. They shoot as soon as they see movement and we are literally being outgunned."

"Fuck." I cussed. Father grew weaker and weaker as the minutes passed.