Tangled

<79 Ava: Fighting Back

79 Ava: Fighting Back

Todd’s wolf form prowls closer, his hackles bristling with menace. His eyes burn with a feral hunger that sends tremors through me. Anticipation hums in the

air between us.

The tree trunk is rough against my back as I use it for support, forcing my body to its feet. The cool weight of the pocketknife in my hand keeps me centered.

I will not cower.

The mysterious energy from before, that primal force filling my veins, is gone. It’s a fleeting whisper of the past, eluding my grasp no matter how desperately I

search for it.

All I have is my training and the small knife I’d stolen from home.

I flip open the blade with a flick of my thumb, the soft click lost amidst the snarls and growls of the ongoing battle around us. At least, I hope it’s lost. I know wolf hearing is keen, but I don’t know its limitations.

Todd’s lips peel back in a vicious snarl, revealing

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79 Ava: Fighting Back

yellowed canines. It figures that even his wolf’s teeth

would need some work. His breath had always smelled

like those tuna sandwiches he eats.

He lunges, a blur of ruddy fur and gnashing jaws.

Instinct has me diving to the side, scrabbling for purchase on the uneven ground. He whirls to face me as I roll to my knees, gripping the knife tightly as I swipe at his muzzle. The blade catches a superficial level of skin and fur, drawing a thin line of crimson that only seems to enrage him further.

the side, my heart pounding in frantic rhythm. The rush of blood overcomes all sound in the

in my

jaws snap shut inches from my face. Nausea churns in my belly,

through fur and flesh. A guttural yelp tears from his

a large adult wolf and an entire

whooshes from my lungs as I hit the ground, the

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Fighting Back

Stars explode across my vision before it fades, just for

Todd’s paws, pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force. His hot breath washes over me

stench, his muzzle inches from

like miniature daggers digging

unyielding.

I manage to free one arm and lash out

mark, but it startles

with a snort, giving me a moment of opportunity.

for the knife as he

Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest

in the moonlight. I’m bleeding. The scent of my blood mingles with the earthy aroma of

Fighting

Faster, damn it.

where I’d been lying just moments before. His jaws snap shut with

a white–knuckled grip, I lash out wildly, the blade slicing a shallow gash across his ear, his neck. A guttural yelp rips from his throat as he snaps at my arm, ripping

wolves are still involved in their own struggles several feet away. How many

I can’t worry about them.

deal with

body slamming into mine like a fucking freight train. I stumble, gasping for air as his claws rake across my abdomen, tearing through fabric and flesh alike.

Agony.

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Fighting Back

I stab into anything I can, wild jabs of my hand. I hit

head and upper body somehow and I backpedal, my heel catching on a gnarled

back with a startled scream, and he’s

position to dodge. I have

scrabble against the knife as I yank it out and stab again and again, even as he snaps and

streaks of crimson. A strangled whine escapes his muzzle before he finally goes limp,

his rancid breath. There’s no breath at all. Only