Chapter 71 Reaper 48

Chapter 71 Reaper 48
Bethany settled herself on the floor, making herself look as vulnerable as possible. Which wasn’t hard. Her face was ashen, blood had dried to a rusty coloured stain on her cheek. “Get ready.” She could hear the footsteps coming closer. Boots on bare floorboards. Laying her cheek on the carpet, she wrinkled her nose as dust and the smell of mildew hit her. God this place stank.

“Get ready” She whispered, eyes firmly on Rory’s face, who was crouched by the window. She looked terrified but determined. Her fists clenched at her sides.

Bethany curled her own fist round the spring she had pulled out of the rotten mattress. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was sharp. She would just have to wait until the man was nice and close before she used it.

He was going to have to get very close.

Just the thought of letting him touch her was making her skin crawl, but she could do this. She would do what needed to be done. And then, hopefully Rory could bring her shift on and rip some throats out.

There was the scraping of a key in the lock, and she closed her eyes briefly. “I love you Reaper,” she whispered to nothing. “Don’t move until the signal.” She whispered.

Mae just cried. She was going to be beyond useless.

“Well, look who’s awake.” The man stepped into the room, flicking a switch outside their door that instantly flooded the small room in harsh yellow light. 

Bethany’s eyes tracked his movements.

“I was hoping you would be awake.” His beady eyes settled on Bethany’s form, the sob that escaped her lips was real. No need for acting here. She was petrified.

“Don’t touch her!” Rory’s voice was strong but there was a note of hysteria there.

If they didn’t keep their cool, things would go south quickly.

Bethany couldn’t help but cringe as his hand reached for her face, gripping her chin in a vice-like grip, as he brought her up to standing before crushing his mouth onto hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, but she didn’t struggle. Even though the very feel of his lips on hers made her want to gag.

“I said don’t touch her!” Rory attacked, small hands thrashing.

His closed fist hit her squarely in the stomach, doubling her over with a soft grunt.

Bethany’s hands clenched tighter at her side. They must know she had just given birth? And they were hitting her in the stomach?

They were animals.

Outside the wind seemed to have picked up, rattling against the windows.

“Stay down bitch, you will get your turn.” He gripped hold of a handful of Bethany’s hair, dragging her towards the ratty bed, and she dropped her legs instinctively. It hurt like hell to be dragged forcibly by the hair, she could feel it ripping out by the roots, but the more powerless he thought her, the easier this would be. Rory was still clutching her stomach, bent over double but there was a low noise coming from her throat.

Growling.

Bethany didn’t dare flick her eyes towards her friend, so far, her attacker hadn’t noticed at all. And the longer she could keep him busy, the better.

It was almost time.

She just had to be patient a little while longer. Let him touch her a little while longer.

“I’m going to enjoy this.” He tossed her down on the bed, using his weight to crush her under him and Bethany gagged. Bile rising her throat.

There was a snarl behind them, loud and angry and the man jerked up instinctively, glancing behind him with a puzzled look on his greasy features.

He didn’t have time to do much more than gasp, as Rory’s wolf leapt at him, her jaws clamping down on his shoulder, she ragged her head like a dog with a toy. The man screamed, but the sound of the wind beating against the windows drowned it out.

It was going to be one hell of a storm.

Bethany reared, her hand a tight fist around the rusty spring. She drove it straight through his left eye.

The man reeled back, Rory’s wolf bringing him to the ground. Mae was crowding him. Her young face was determined and set. Her booted feet kicked him repeatedly as Bethany clambered off the bed. This was taking too long. They needed to neutralize him now. They couldn’t allow him to call for help.

Rory was growling, a low sound as she stood over him. The man was broken, a limp bloody mess. Sobbing into the carpet.

“We need to finish this.” Mae’s voice sounded desperate, she was already on her knees scrabbling to find a weapon of some sort.

Rory’s growl became louder.

“I'll do it.” Bethany stepped up, nudging the giant wolf aside with her hip. “You’re beautiful by the way Rory.” Her eyes raked over the Chestnut fur and fierce blue eyes. “Your wolf is really something else.” She knelt, her hands shaking, then she drove the pointed edge of her spring into the side of the man's throat. His eyes went wide, a gurgle escaped his lips, but he didn’t move.

“Let’s go.” She stood, wiping her bloody hand on her jeans. It was hot. She hadn’t expected it to be hot.

She had just killed a man.

And she felt nothing.

But she knew it would come.

“God that wind!” Mae had to raise her voice to be heard. It sounded like a hurricane was battering the windows.

Rory was at the door, but for a second she looked back.

Bethany grinned. “That’s not a storm.” She answered evenly. Stepping into the hall first. Her hand firmly around the gun she had found in the waistband of their attackers jeans. Rory bringing up the rear in her beautiful wolf form, and Mae securely in the middle. They hugged the wall as they crept along. “That’s a dragon.”

Then the house shook as if a bomb had hit it, rubble tumbled amongst their crouching forms.

Their men were here.

Reaper was sprinting over the grass. Requiem's bike flung onto the grass in his haste to get to the house. He would pay for any damages later. All that mattered now was to get into that house. He didn’t slow down, even as Requiem's huge spiked tail took out the entire front of the house with a boom.

Who needed a battering ram when you had a dragon.

He leapt over the rubble, just as Requiem roared. Shattering any glass that remained. Tiny shards of it cut his skin like a thousand needles. But he kept going, launching himself at the men that dared touch his mate.

His love.

The men, caught totally unaware, scattered. He caught the nearest one as he rushed towards him, his claw like nails sinking into the man's flesh like butter.

He ripped his throat out and tossed it away like trash.

Behind him he heard the pop pop of a gun, and an almighty roar. Someone taking a shot at the dragon. Requiem's massive jaws sliced through him like a sword, before he tossed him to fall in two pieces a hundred meters away.

Roman ripped off the head of another. His wolf was shaking with anger. His eyes were mad.

Then the pack was there, and screams rent the air.

Reaper was on autopilot now. He didn’t care if they begged for mercy.

They were all going to die.