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I can heal, I remind myself. So long as I keep him from giving me a fatal wound, I’ll heal.
With a sickening crack, I yank both halves of his jaw, dislocating it instantly. The shock of the pain stuns him for a heartbeat, but it’s enough. Letting him dangle with a one-handed grip, I flex my fingers, positioning my claws just so before I gouge a huge chunk of his throat. Blood drenching my fingers, I throw him to the dirt.
He lands with a thud. On impact, he bounces, then immediately shifts back to his skin, gurgling on his blood.
I watch him coolly as I stride toward him, towering over his fallen body.
I’ll heal. A wound like that, he probably will, too, if I give him the chance.
I should kill him.
When I don’t, he shifts from his side to his back. Lying flat, Walker lifts his hand. I watch as he forms a fist, punching himself in the mouth. He swings from the opposite direction of his hanging jaw, knocking it back into place with another ear-splitting crack.
The skin is already slowly knitting together. Blood still dribbles from his throat, welling against his collarbone. He wiggles his jaw, checking to see that it’s on its way to healing, and then he grins. His eyes flash, too. There’s a dare in their depths, and a cockiness to his smile. It’s such a contrast to his ruined neck that, if I kept my gaze on his face, I would have no idea how close I came to killing him during the fight. Left alone, he’ll heal in minutes, but those are a few minutes I have where Jack Walker is at my mercy.
“What are you waiting for, Ruby?” His voice is ragged, thanks to the hunks ripped out of his throat. “Do it. Finish the challenge.”
He doesn’t think I have it in me. And I get that. After I broke his jaw, I could’ve easily slashed at his throat more than the single time I did it. I could’ve even split his jaw open, or broken his neck. He knows I have the strength now.
I could’ve done it.
But I didn’t.
It’s not because he’s the bastard that sired me. I could care less that his blood runs in my veins. To me, Jack Walker is nothing but a sperm donor. That’s all he’ll ever be.
To the rest of the shifter world, he’s more than that. For Luna’s sake, he was halfway to becoming a shifter king to his pack.
Someone has to stop him.
Killing him would turn him into a martyr. Worse, it would only add to my own legend. Gemma Swann, female alpha, the one wolf bad enough to take down the Wicked Wolf of the West.
No, thanks.
Besides, I’ve got a better idea.
I drop to my knee at his side. He expects me to finish my attack on his throat, and I’m willing to bet that he has some way to block me. Doesn’t matter. When my claws slash out at him, I don’t aim that high.
I jab my hand at his bare chest, claws slicing right into his pec. With a practiced shove, the tips of my claws come within centimeters of piercing his heart. Surprise, surprise, he actually has one, and it would be so freaking easy to rip it out.
But I don’t do that, either.
Instead, I smile, and then I give him a single order:
“Yield.”
