Page 105 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

This is what I really am.

What Ivy swears I'm not.

The screaming from the girl behind the glass doesn't stop. It spirals higher, desperate, the sound of a child who will have nightmares about this moment for the rest of her life.

Because of me.

Because of what I'm doing.

You promised.

Ivy's voice whispers in my head.

You promised me.

My jaws loosen a fraction.

I see Wade's stick coming.

Can't move fast enough.

The blade catches me across the face with a crack that echoes through the arena, snapping my head sideways.

My vision whites out from the pain surging so hot, it barely registers.

I stagger back.

Wade doesn't waste the opening, his flesh ragged from where I tore him open when he hit me with his fucking stick.

"Is this what she has to deal with?" He swings again, wild and desperate. The stick connects with my face again, driving me to one knee. "Huh? Getting held down by some fucking MONSTER? At least I was GOOD to her⁠—"

Another swing.

My hand flies up and catches the stick inches from my face, my fingers tightening until the stick shatters in my hand.

I let out a savage roar, blood splashing onto the ice.

Wade dies tonight.

Wade fucking dies.

Something slams into me from the side.

The impact sends me staggering sideways. Before I can recover, there's a hand on my chest, holding me back.

Silver eyes.

Bone-white hair.

Valek?

"Not you," he says, his accented voice cutting through the feral haze. "Not tonight."

MOVE, I try to snarl. HE'S MINE.

But Valek's already spinning away from me.

Wade is trying to stand, one hand braced against the boards, still gasping for air. Blood streams from his savaged shoulder. His mangled hand hangs useless at his side.