Accidental Surrogate for Alpha

#Chapter 373 – Burn Out

Roger

Less time probably passes than it feels like. Because it feels like hours of being seared by fire, of the Priest hurling spells at us.

And it’s not fire alone – it’s flames first, and then slicing spells that cut at us, and then wind – and ice – and something that feels like acid in the air that creeps into our lungs and makes us hack –

But slowly, slowly he burns himself out. And our men fall, screaming. But in the end, it’s me who prowls towards him in my wolf’s body, ignoring the aches and pains that come with every step. It’s me.

I step over my brother’s limp form, doing my best to ignore the fact that what breaths pulse from Dominic’s lips are short and shallow. That his eyes are shut, that whole swathes of his skin are burned away.

I only have eyes for him, this cornered Priest, at the end of this. Because it is the end. And I have him trapped.

Then, because I want him to see me in a form he can understand, I shift back into my human body, wincing as I do so, as the pains of my flesh reform themselves on hands instead of paws, on my legs instead of my haunches.

“Tell me” I command, as I stand before him, cowered in his corner.

“I will tell you noth-”

But I roar, allowing my nails to arc into claws that I slash across his face, opening four deep wounds across his cheeks, his nose, his lips. He shrieks in pain and covers his face before looking up at me.

for your god,” I say, holding up my hands so he can see my weapons there, “I don’t think that your little order prepared you for days, weeks, or months

drips down his face. As he realizes what I’m saying.

That’s up to me.

me,” I say again,

out, finding a little more courage and hate in himself as he snarls the words at me, as he winces at the feel of his face shifting when he speaks, at the new pain there.

before he can see me move, I rip my claws again over his face – raking some in the fresh wounds I just placed there, but also opening some new ones

his wounds. But I slash at those next, letting my claws cut deep, severing several fingers and slicing deep into the tendons of his hand so that they are useless to him now

flat to the floor next to the curled forms of his sliced

I roar, leaning over him now, “Or by your God’s own name I will do it

looks up at me, in so much pain now that I don’t know if his words are shaking in shock or fear or…something else. But I have

he has the

to cover his face again but

don’t know!” he cries. “He didn’t tell

he have!?” I command, shoving the priest’s hands away from his face so that I can

finding some level. of frustration in this, almost not believing that we found a way to defy his spells. “I don’t know how you got

let him finish – because frankly, I don’t care. Instead, I raise a fist to shoulder height and then smash it, again and again, into the Priest’s clenched teeth, reducing his face to

his throat, watching as the blood flows quick. And then, as his hands fall limp at his side,

dedicated his life to darkness. For what? For the chance to wield some spells? To

our men. And I can tell the moment that the priest dies. Because there is an almost audible click as the magic leaves the house. I don’t know what it was – wards to tell him where we were? Further protections? It doesn’t matter.