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“But your leg…”
“What about my—”
The question died in my throat as I glanced down at my thigh. Dread seized my chest as I tried to make sense of the bloodied mess. The world around me seemed to blur, my vision obscured by a red haze of agony.
A sharp, cylindrical piece of metal had gone through my outer thigh. Dirt and debris clung edges of the wound, threatening an infection. Time seemed to slow as I looked down, my eyes wide with disbelief. A jagged metal tip protruded from my thigh, a cruel and unexpected companion. Blood welled up around the wound, darkening the earth beneath me.
Goddess, the muscle looked like a juicy piece of ham skewered through with a spit.
“Get it out.”
I speared Olympia with my gaze.
“Get it out—now!”
She glanced at the metal hesitantly. “I don’t know if we’re supposed to remove this or—”
“Or what?” I demanded. “Wait for a medic to show up?”
She bit her lip hard enough to leave indents, shuffling closer to the wound. Her palms slipped over the blood-slick metal. Once, twice, she huffed as she tried to get a grip. One the third pass, she wrapped her fingers around the hem of her tunic and placed the fabric against the metal, breathing hard.
She began to count. “One, two—”
“Just fucking do it!”
Blood, thick and dark, sprayed in every direction—my chin, my chest, my hair was covered in little red droplets. It erupted in a chaotic dance over Olympia’s tunic, sullying the green with a grotesque pattern of deep red.
The air itself seemed to carry the metallic tang of my life force, the light rain heavy with the scent of blood.
I clenched my teeth to stifle a scream, fingers trembling as I reached down to assess the damage. Without the metal, the wound looked like a puckered bit of skin, oozing and pulsing as we watched it. Olly covered it quickly with a strip of her tunic.
I fell back onto the dirt. Panic clawed at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to overwhelm.
“I hear something.”
Olympia’s bloody fingers closed over my shoulder, trying to pull me up with her.
“Zoei,” she said again, shaking my shoulder. “I hear people coming this way. Come on, get up.”
I let myself lean into her strength, and she hauled me to my feet. Light rain tapped on the soft earth as we ducked behind a cluster of large buttresses in the cover of the forest.
The ground rumbled beneath our feet as distant footsteps drew closer, their rhythmic cadence growing more distinct with each passing second.
Olly and I exchanged wary glances, the distress of the moment etched across our faces.
"Shit!" Almanera's curse penetrated the stillness of the air, his frustration palpable. His voice carried a mix of anger and exasperation as he turned to confront his Alphas, his stout body almost comically animated.
"I told you toaim, Bowen. Is this what you call aiming?" His voice boomed with authority, eyes blazing with disappointment. His sharp reprimand hung in the air.
An Alpha twice the size of Almanera glanced around guiltily. “I can still scent them, sir. Perhaps we should split up and look for them. They couldn’t have gone far.”
“You’re damn right,” Almanera snarled. “If you don’t find them, it’ll be your head. Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for an opportunity like this? Hmm?”
When Bowen didn’t speak, Almanera continued. “For ten years, I’ve petitioned those good-for-nothing kingdoms for an audience—anaudience—but they refused to grant me a second of their time. They sent councilmembers and ambassadors to do a job that they’re supposed to do. Why? Because we’re not important. We’re just a speck on their radar. But not anymore.”
I glanced at Olympia, whose attention was focused solely on the band of Alphas gathered near the wreckage.
“The borderlands deserves its own governance—its own leadership. We don’t need these pricks from Vetri or Agnivale to tell us what to do, and I’m tired of waiting for their permission to live as a free man.”
