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I would show him who was a coward.
As expected, the demon walked forward, after me, as if he didn’t believe I was really fleeing.
I had fled once in my life—when I had been rescued from the witches and hadn’t come directly here to make sure my pack was really gone. I had run away from the pain, from the grief.
I would never flee from anything in my life again.
I gained speed with my run and jumped into the middle of a tree trunk. I used my momentum to scurry halfway up the tree. Then I turned, used a branch for leverage, and jumped right on top of the demon.
He fell back on the hard ground, the knife clattered from his hand, and I bit down on his neck before he could do anything else.
I ripped his throat out.
My chest heaving, I retreated from the dead demon. I stared at him for a second, my anger and adrenaline rearing back, then dashed toward the inn.
As I ran, I couldn’t stop the panic from rising. Shit, the demon had been able to radio the others before I had killed him. Conri would know someone was in the area.
Things had gotten exponentially harder.
