Don't Poke the Luna (Xena and Ryder)

Chapter 267

Xena's POV

"YOU FUCKING BITCH! I'LL TEAR YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE! Alpha Wiley's voice cracked as he stood in the doorway, his eyes wild with grief and tage. YOU KILLED MY SON! YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" Spittle flew from his mouth as he raised his automatic rifle, spraying bullets across the room in a frenzy of destruction. Medical equipment exploded around me, sparks flying as electronics were shredded.

The sound of William's agonized cry cut through the chaos like a knife to my

heart.

'William!" I called desperately through our mind link, but silence answered me.

wouldn't let William die while I cowered behind table.

My

chest constricted with panic. He was dying. I couldn't hide anymore. I

examined the vials scattered around me, remembering something from my high school biology textbook. When blood carries oxygen, hemoglobin forms oxyhemoglobin-bright red. When blood loses oxygen, it becomes deoxyhemoglobin-dark red, almost purple. My fingers closed around a vial containing deep purple-red liquid, and my

work. My voice was

immediately began to shift, the deep purple brightening to a vivid crimson. My breath caught. This had to be it-the blood serum

through the desk, the wood splintering inches from my face before the projectile tore into my shoulder. Fire exploded through my arm, and I bit back a scream. Blood poured down

nothing," I whispered,

copper pennies and electricity. It burned going down, setting

Then the pain began.

in a giant's fist. I doubled over, gasping, as the sensation spread outward like molten lava flowing

felt like they were being stretched and reformed, each joint cracking and popping as they adjusted to accommodate new strength. My muscles spasmed violently, contracting and expanding as they grew denser, more powerful. I

had begun, the

radiating outward until every cell in my body hummed with newfound power. Una roared with triumph in my mind. The constant

incredible.

my surroundings, looking for anything I could use as a projectile. A metal chair sat overturned near the wall, and without thinking,

like it was made of foam, weightless in my enhanced grip. I hurled it toward the doorway with what