Chapter 47: Pavement Blood
The city's inferno raged around them, flames devouring the air as Sam faced Nick in the street of broken glass and stone, the heartbeat of the war pulsating through the pavement. Bullets spat, a dying echo of Jake's falling empire, but here—amidst burning cars and blood-splattered roadways—it was only them, two snarling feral powers dancing in a tarantella of claws and rage. The link dropped, tenuous and patchy, Jake's power a ghost wandering in the chaos, but Sam's focus reduced to Nick's black eyes, smoldering with an urge to kill him.
Nick came in swift.
Sam barely had seconds to step aside before claws sliced across the air, tearing deep into the side of his jacket, fabric tearing like paper. The graze on his skin burned, but he spun, slamming his elbow into Nick's ribs in a crack that boomed above the shots. Nick didn't even blink, his smirk intact, his body unyielding—tighter now, faster, a predator who'd shed all restraint. Sam's breath hitched, the reality dawning: Nick had been holding back before, in the alley, in the lot. Now he wasn't.
Nick's claws flashed once more, a flash of black, unnatural sheerness, and Sam ducked, too late—a blow crashed hard into his shoulder, and he reeled. Fire shot, hot and keen, but Nick did not let go, holding Sam around the throat in an iron grip, knocking him against a burning car. The metal seared his back, his eyes flashing white as pain burst down his spine, the pungent odor of charred flesh and gasoline mixing. Sam wheezed, raking fingers up Nick's arm, blood bubbling up, but the Cobra enforcer leaned in harder, his black eyes glinting inches from his face.
Not bad," Nick breathed, voice a harsh rasp, smile, his claws curling. "But not good enough." His grin widened, teeth snarled back, a promise of ruin in the light, the scar Sam had carved across his jaw white and winking on the tight, unnatural flesh.
Sam gritted his jaw, his wolf snarling, the bond ticking faintly—Jake, out there, somewhere, bleeding and fighting, an anchor he could not reach. Nick's words from the lot—"more than one way to break a bond"—wound in his belly, a threat he could not unravel. His claws cramped, the power he'd unleashed on Anna raging, wild and primal, needing to burst forth. He had stifled it too—feared it, fought against it—but not now. Not with Lisa bound, Jake falling, and Nick's grip crushing the life from him.
He let go.
The transformation was instant.
His flesh shuddered, a burning wave of heat and anger as bones shifted position, muscles ripped and mended, claws ripping his fingers open with wet, guttural snap. His eyes emerged clearer, the world becoming red-crimson—each flicker of flame, each sweep of shadow, every drop of blood burning and vibrating. Power overwhelmed him, not the chaotic shift of the back streets, but lower and more basic, the ancient power Clara's blood had sown, the power that had torn Anna apart. The growl seethed in his breast, a storm that obliterated the bullets, and Nick's black eyes narrowed—surprise, fleeting but real.
Sam sprang forward, faster than Nick had expected, claws sinking into his side with a sickening crunch, blood spurting dark and heavy across his hands. Nick snarled, his smile wavering, stumbling backward as Sam punched forward, cutting again, slicing through leather and muscle. The Cobra enforcer attacked, claws scraping Sam's chest, but Sam bellowed, avoiding the blow, driving his shoulder into Nick's gut, slamming him onto the ground. Asphalt split, blood welling, and Sam pinning him down, claws at his throat, their breathing harsh in the firelight.
Nick's smile wavered, black eyes constricting, a flash of doubt cutting through his sneer. For the first time—through all the jibes, all the fights—he realized Sam might win.
The firelight danced over them, the war outside in the distance, but at this moment, it was just them. Nick's smile was gone, something else taking its place—something almost human. "You think this is where it ends for me?" he croaked, blood oozing from his lips. "You don't have a clue what's coming, Sam."
Sam's claws curled, his panting breath. The bond flickered weakly—Jake lived. That was all that mattered.
"This is where it ends," Sam growled.
Nick's body tensed, a momentary spark of defiance flashing in his black eyes, but Sam didn't hesitate. He drove his claws deep into the flesh of Nick's throat, slicing muscle and bone in a single, vicious stroke. Blood splattered in thick, scalding jets, drenching the cracked pavement in a dark tide. Nick gurgled, the sound of suffocation bubbling in his throat as his body convulsed in Sam's grip. For a moment, the fire danced in his eyes, and then—emptiness.
Sam stepped back, chest heaving, hands dripping with Nick's blood. His breath came in staccato gasps, the high of power still pumping through his veins, but the fight was done. Nick's body fell, lifeless, the sneer that had haunted Sam through all the fights now frozen in macabre rigidity.
There was no time for relief, however.
Another explosion ripped through the blackness, the shockwave shaking his bones as flames blazed heavenward from a blazing building down the street. The war was far from over. Sam pushed himself to sit up, gazing out at the far-off devastation. His bond with Jake blazed—still there, still fragile—but he had to move. Lisa was still bound. Jake was still bleeding. And whatever Nick had been trying to tell him with his last breath—that this was not over—Sam could not afford to ignore.
Glancing once more at Nick's body on the floor, Sam ran and escaped into the fire.