Fen stops a few yards away, still growling low in his throat. His gaze shifts from me to the guns pointed at him, then back to me.
"Have you lost your mind?" Ghost hisses. "I know it chased the Chimeras, but it’s not a friend!"
"She's delirious from blood loss," Sherlock says. "We need to?—"
He stops mid-sentence, his gaze dropping to my chest.
I follow his eyes and see what he's seeing. The wound where the stinger pierced me is visibly closing, the torn edges of flesh knitting together before my eyes. The blood flow has already slowed to a trickle. Of course it is. Fuck.
But the immense pain remains. In fact it’s getting worse. The wound might be closing, but the venom is burning me from the inside.
Sherlock takes a step back. Then another. And another. His rifle, which had been pointed at Fen, swings toward me instead.
"What are you?" His eyes are wide.
The words hit harder than the damn chimera stinger. My worst nightmare unfolds in real time as Sherlock stares at me like I'm a stranger. Like I'm a monster. The poison burns through me, but it's nothing compared to the cold dread spreading from my core.
Years of careful lies, of hiding my abilities, of pretending to be normal. It’s all crumbling away in seconds. My vision swims, but I can still see the fear in his eyes, the way his finger hovers near the trigger.
Ghost looks between us, bewildered. "Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"Look at her wound," Sherlock says, not taking his eyes off me. "Look at it."
Ghost glances down, and I see the moment realization hits him. "That's... that's not possible."
"I knew something wasn't right," Sherlock says, gun steady in his hands. "All this time. You really have been lying to everyone. What are you?"
Fuuuuuuck.
Episode 11
CHAPTER 35
Save Her
* * *
Fenrir Thorsson
Black blood.
It trickles down her chin turning my blood cold. Her pale skin has turned alabaster. Each breath rattles in her chest, shallow and growing weaker.
The one called Sherlock stands beside Astrid where he's leaned her against an old oak, his rifle now aimed at her unconscious form. The other one—Ghost—stands slightly ahead, his weapon trained on me, tracking every movement of my massive wolf body.
My wolf strains against my control, desperate to reach her to rip these two men to shreds, but I can’t die. I can’t save her if I die. And she would be upset if I killed her team. She sacrificed herself to save the stupid human pointing a rifle at her right now. I should just kill him anyway…
"What the hell is happening?" Sherlock demands. "First those... fucking Chimera, now this wolf?"
I growl low. I can see it—the light in Astrid's chest flickering like a candle in a storm. My soul shard. It's dying. She's dying.
Chimera venom. Nothing in this realm can save her. Each precious second that passes is one closer to losing her forever.
Ghost’s grip on his weapon loosens slightly. His eyes dart between Astrid's unconscious form and me, confusion evident in his expression.
"Wait," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "Is she... could she be like it? A wolf?"
"You think she’s a shifter?" Sherlock snaps, finally moving his aim and his attention to me and away from Astrid.
