Chapter 56 The Last Resource
POV: Callum Brennan
Location: Fighting Pits
Time: Death Match
Gregor's hand is crushing my throat. I can't breathe. Can't think. Just dying.
The crowd's cheering. They love this. Love watching wolves kill each other.
I've got seconds left. Maybe less. Then it's over.
I think about the crew. About Isla. About ninety-two wolves depending on me. About how I'm failing them by dying in a pit.
Then something shifts. Not external. Internal.
I'm not dying here. Not for vampire entertainment. Not when people need me.
I stop trying to breathe. Stop panicking. Focus on what I can control.
My hands are free. Gregor's focused on choking me. Confident in his strength.
That's his mistake.
I claw at his eyes. Not elegantly. Just desperate scratching. Fingers digging into eye sockets.
Gregor screams. Releases my throat. Stumbles back.
I collapse. Gasping. Coughing. Barely conscious.
But alive. Still in the fight.
Gregor's covering his eyes. I damaged them. Not permanently. But enough to affect his vision.
I use the moment. Attack while he's vulnerable. Low. Targeting his legs.
My claws open wounds on his thighs. He's strong but he bleeds like anyone else.
Gregor kicks me. Catches my ribs. The broken ones. Pain explodes through my chest.
I'm on the ground. Coughing blood. Gregor's advancing. Still mostly functional despite eye damage.
"That was dirty fighting. Coward's tactics." Gregor's voice is angry. "I'm going to make this hurt."
He grabs me. Lifts me. Slams me down. The impact breaks something. Rib. Vertebra. Something important.
I can't move my legs. Spine damage. Paralyzing damage.
The crowd goes wild. This is what they wanted. Real injury. Real suffering.
I'm lying on the concrete. Can't stand. Can't fight. Just waiting for Gregor to finish it.
He's circling me. Taking his time. Enjoying my helplessness.
"You're tough. Survived longer than most. But you're done now. Can't even stand."
He's right. I'm done. Paralyzed from spine damage. No way to fight back.
This is how it ends. On concrete floor. Crowd cheering. Gregor delivering final blow.
I think about prison. About eighteen months of survival. About all that suffering just to die here.
I think about Isla. About the pregnant wolf. About the teenagers starving in the locked room.
I think about Mordaunt's offer. About how if I die, they'll have to accept it. Become his creatures. Because I wasn't strong enough.
Gregor raises his fist. Final blow. Aimed at my skull. This kills me.
Then I remember something. Prison taught me to hurt myself to hurt enemies more.
My hand finds silver chain on the ground. Dropped by a dead wolf. It burns immediately. Sears my already-scarred palm.
I don't care. I grip it. Wait for Gregor to get close.
He leans down. Delivering final blow with confidence.
I stab upward with the silver chain. Aim for his throat. Same move that worked on Cormac.
The chain pierces his neck. Silver enters his bloodstream. He screams.
The crowd gasps. Underdog fighting back. Dramatic reversal.
Gregor grabs the chain. Pulls it out. But the damage is done. Silver poison spreading.
He's staggering. Touching his throat. Blood pouring out.
I'm still paralyzed. Still can't move. But I hurt him. Maybe enough.
Gregor falls to his knees. The silver's working faster than it should. Maybe because of the vampire blood enhancement. Maybe it makes him more vulnerable to silver.
He's dying. Right in front of me. Killed by the same tactic I used on Cormac.
The crowd's silent. Shocked. Nobody expected this outcome.
Gregor collapses. Face-first on concrete. Dead within seconds.
I won. Somehow. Against impossible odds. I won.
The referee checks Gregor's pulse. Confirms death. Announces winner.
"Callum Brennan. By death. Winner of the match."
The crowd erupts. Half are celebrating the upset. Half are furious about lost bets.
I don't care about them. I care about the five thousand pounds. About feeding the crew. About buying time.
Bill Bolter approaches. "Hell of a fight. Thought you were dead three times. But you pulled it off."
"The money. I need it now."
"You're paralyzed. Need medical attention first."
"Money first. Medical after. I need to get it to my crew."
Bill counts out five thousand pounds. Hands it to me. "Your funeral. Literally. That spine damage looks serious."
I take the money. Can't stand. Can't walk. But I've got five thousand pounds.
The crowd disperses. Vampires paying debts. Wolves heading home.
I'm lying on concrete. Paralyzed. Victorious. Dying.
Tom appears. He must have followed me. "Callum. You're hurt bad."
"Get the money to Isla. Five thousand pounds. Buy food. Buy medical supplies. Buy antibiotics for Marcus."
"You need medical attention. Your spine."
"Get. The money. To Isla. Now." I force the money into his hands. "Crew first. Me second."
Tom takes the money. Disappears.
I'm alone in the pit. Paralyzed. Bleeding. But I completed the mission.
Five thousand pounds. Enough to fund the crew for months. Enough to save Marcus. Enough to feed the starving teenagers.
Enough to buy time to refuse Mordaunt's offer.
The pain's overwhelming. Spine damage. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Silver burns on both hands now.
I'm probably dying. This injury might be too much even for werewolf healing.
But I got the money. I saved the crew.
That has to count for something.
Isla arrives thirty minutes later. She's got medical supplies. Tom must have told her.
"You idiot. You absolute idiot." Isla's crying while examining my spine. "You could have died. You nearly did die."
"Got the money though."
"The money doesn't matter if you're dead." Isla injects something. Painkiller. The agony fades slightly. "The spine damage is severe. You might not walk again."
"Will I live?"
"Maybe. If we get you to Silas. He's got equipment. Connections. He can stabilize you."
"Then take me there. But make sure the crew gets fed first."
"Tom's already distributing food. The teenagers are eating. Marcus is getting antibiotics. Everyone's being taken care of." Isla signals for help. Other wolves arrive. They lift me carefully. "Now we take care of you."
They carry me through the Rookeries. Every movement is agony. But I'm alive.
I won the death match. Earned five thousand pounds. Bought the crew time.
And I'm learning something. Desperation makes you do impossible things.
Makes you fight opponents you can't beat. Makes you hurt yourself to hurt enemies. Makes you sacrifice everything for people you're protecting.
That's what the Rookeries does. Transforms you. Makes you harder. Makes you capable of things you never imagined.
I close my eyes. Let Isla work. Trust the crew to get me to Silas.
Eighteen hours until Mordaunt's deadline. Eighteen hours to recover enough to make decision.
Eighteen hours to figure out if tonight's victory bought us freedom or just postponed slavery.
The pain fades. Drugs working. Healing starting.
I survived the death match. Killed Gregor. Won five thousand pounds.
Now I just need to survive my injuries. Survive the assassins arriving tonight. Survive Mordaunt's deadline tomorrow.
One impossible thing at a time.
That's all survival ever is.