Page 155 of God of Monsters

A hard body slams into the monster, knocking it off balance. This time, it’s Atticus.

Free of capture, I dash across the room for the door, while the two Alphas hold back the mutations that seem hellbent on having me.

The muscles in Titus’s arms tremble and flex, as he grips the creature by its throat, its tongue lashing out like a snake’s. “The knife … take it!” he grits out.

Eyeing the blade at his hip, I slide the weapon out and slam it into the eye of the mutation. A loud screech echoes inside the room.

Two more mutations scamper on all fours toward us. “Get inside and lock the door!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

“Go! Now!” A hard shove sends me flying backwards onto my butt, and the door slams shut.

I twist around for the staircase, jogging as fast as my legs will carry me for the control room.

Jack is nowhere.

I thought for sure Titus had killed him.

Below the control panel, lies a mangled-looking handgun, one I’m guessing Titus destroyed before coming after me.

A glance down at the room below shows two of the mutations dead, their headless bodies twitching on the floor, while Titus and Atticus go for the other two.

The weight of the knife in my hands seems to grow heavier, and I turn toward the hallway.

Stalking out of the control room, I head in the opposite direction, where Jack must’ve run off to, taking light steps. Doors stand on either side of the hallway. At the end of the corridor is an exit sign, and as I make my way toward it, I scan the rooms that appear to be offices. Fluorescent bulbs buzz overhead. Every nerve in my body is a livewire, and my hands tremble, the business end of the knife leading the way. As I near the exit door, the hum of growls and hard thuds against the panel of it tell me Ragers pace on the other side.

No way he’d have gone out that door.

That cold feeling skates across the back of my neck again, and I turn to find a shadowy figure standing behind me.

“There’s no escape for you and I.”

The metal screech of a door snaps my attention from him, and he strikes, like a snake. The back of his hand knocks my cheek, knuckles rattling my bones, and the pain shoots up into my sinuses. My body whirls around, and in a matter of seconds, Jack’s chest is pressed into my back, the blade propped at my throat.

At the opposite end of the hall, Titus strides toward us, his skin covered in blood.

“Step aside. Let us pass, and I can assure you I’ll not harm her,” Jack says from behind.

Titus snarls, and I catch the curl of his hands into fists.

The blade angles upward, lifting my chin higher. “I have no doubt you’re capable of unimaginable pain. But all it takes is one slip of this blade, and she’s done.”

Still, Titus doesn’t answer, and when Atticus strides up next to him, I can feel the tremble in Jack’s muscles intensify. When the two of them get their hands on him, there will be nothing left but blood and bits of scattered flesh.

He might just slice my throat before then, though.

In the pause, I think of my mother. My father. Grant. Their lifeless bodies.

Rage curls like a black poisonous smoke inside of me, and my training with Titus snaps to mind. In one fluid motion, I spin away from the knife, and before he has a chance to react, I twist, knock his arm out of the way, and hammer my fist into his throat, just as the Alpha showed me. A move we practiced so many times, it’s like instinct.

Eyes popped wide, Jack drops the knife on a gasp and stumbles backward, holding his neck.

Of course, he wouldn’t expect me to fight back. The girl he knew wasn’t raised to defend herself.

“Go to hell!” I slam a hard kick to his groin, and with a stunned expression, he loses his balance, falling backward through the exit door and over the banister of the stairwell. With a hard crack, the concrete hits his spine, and he gasps again.

The Ragers cluster around him, growling and clicking.