Page 57 of Lycan’s Hunt

“Where at the docks are they keeping her?” I snarl, my face mere inches from his. “What are they planning to do with her?”

Kyle’s eyes are wide with terror, his face a mask of pain and fear. “I… I don’t know,” he gasps, his words barely audible through the blood gurgling in his throat. “I swear, I don’t know anything else!”

With a growl of frustration, I fling him across the room once more. He lands in a crumpled heap, his body twitching and convulsing as he struggles to draw breath.

I crouch down beside him, my claws tracing the line of his jaw. “You’d better start remembering, because if you don’t, I’ll skin you alive.” I let my claws dig into his ear like a hot knife on butter as I drag them across the back of his ear.

Kyle whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut as tears stream down his cheeks. “Please. Please, I’ve told you everything I know.”

I lean in closer, my breath hot against his face. “Not good enough.” I tell him jerking the last piece of skin holding his ear to his head. His scream is like music to my ears, and I relish the sound.

My claws then sink into his flesh, tearing through muscle and sinew with ease. Kyle screams, his body writhing in agony as I carve into him, my movements precise and deliberate. I savor his pain, enjoying the sound of his screams. I take a deep breath and stare deep into his eyes, my gaze cold and calculating. I release him, his body slumping to the ground.

Blood pools around him, staining the ground as he struggles to catch his breath. The once vibrant life in his eyes dims, replaced by a look of desperation and fear. I step back, observing the scene with a detached sense of satisfaction. Without hesitation, I lunge forward once more, my claws slashing across his chest with renewed ferocity. The sound of ripping flesh echoes through the air, accompanied by his renewed cries of anguish. Each strike is deliberate and relentless, as I meticulously carve and slice his flesh, the metallic scent of blood saturating the air until it’s all I can smell.

Time seems to blur as I work, the world narrowing to the sound of Kyle’s screams and the coppery scent of blood. I lose myself in the violence, the rage that consumes me, finding release in the brutal torture of him. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he had to taunt me. His arrogance was his downfall, assuming he could insult a king and walk away unscathed. Now, he pays the price for his stupidity, enduring my wrath as a consequence of his reckless words.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Kyle’s screams fade to whimpers, his body limp, making me glare down at him.

“The docks,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “They’re keeping her in the sorting center. That’s all I know, I swear.”

I nod, satisfied at last. “Good.”

With a final, vicious snarl, I plunge my claws into Kyle’s chest, slicing bone and wrapping them around his heart. He gasps, his body convulsing once before going still when I squeeze, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I back off, satisfied with my kill. His blood pools around me, staining the floor.

I rise, wiping the blood from my hands on my pants. The rage within me has cooled, replaced by a deep worry for Aubrey. Calmly, I retrieve my jacket from a nearby chair, shaking off the dust before slipping it on. The weight of his death is nothing compared to the urgency of rescuing Aubrey, and with determined strides, I head toward the door, leaving the chaos behind.

The door creaks open, and I glance over my shoulder. Damian glances at the man on the floor before his eyes turn to me. “Ready to move now?” he asks. Damian steps aside and steps out, looking at Jefferson’s Beta.

“The docks,” I say, my voice cold and harsh. “That’s where they’re keeping her.”

“You’re kidding, we just came from there. We figured that was the most obvious spot.” Beta Magnus growls. I ignore him. Instead, I stomp down the stairs to get my future wife.

We rush outside, the metallic scent of blood still clinging to the air around us. The rising sun highlights the bloodbath outside left behind from the fight, highlighting the splatters of crimson that mark our path. Without a moment’s hesitation, we leap into our cars, engines roaring to life as we tear out of the driveway, gravel spitting up as we race toward the city and the docks. I just hope we make it in time.