Stand Tall, Mate

EIGHT

Avery

My heart thumped dangerously quick as I fought off man after man, attacking me with the intent to kill. I refused to shift; I had not done so since I first made the transition. At 22-years-old, I had only shifted into my Lycan form once when I was only 14. The constant pain that I have been in since then has turned into a slight dull. My Lycan clawed at the back of my brain most days, trying to get out, but I don't let her. It's too dangerous. 

I pull both guns out of their holsters on my hips, having found ammo only a few weeks ago. Silver bullets were my favourite, they could definitely harm me, but using them against others? Amazing. 

I clicked the safety off and aimed at the closest werewolf to me, blowing his brains out of his skull just before he could reach me. I made it rain bullets as the continuous incursion of my space became dangerous. I had been in the same spot for too long. I was never anywhere more than once and not for more than a day to rest. I had been on the move for three years. 

Every time I thought I was well out of reach, there was always someone closer to me than the larger party. I had stopped in a small town for a night, making sure that I was out of harm's way and that I had enough time to rest my aching bones. I had lost a lot of weight since beginning my never-ending run, but I made up for lost weight by gaining more muscle. 

The muscles in my legs were well defined by now, and strong enough to crush someone's head in between them. I had slowly defined my stomach, that now had the outline of a six-pack nestled under my body suit. My curves had not changed much, only being accentuated more with the muscle gain. 

I had slept in too long, and I had let the people get close enough to surround me, which lead to my current predicament. I was surrounded by wolves ready to annihilate me. I was sweating as body after body advanced on me, the intent clear in their eyes. They wanted me dead, dead as a door nail. 

I weaved my way through the crowd of shifted wolves and some unshifted men, shooting every which way to give myself enough space to breathe. Before I could put my finger on the trigger, aiming at the next victim of my guns. A cold feeling washed over me and fear sprang to life through my body. No. 

My Lycan started to whimper through my mind as fear began to engulf me. I lowered my gun and turned to face who had just entered the space around me. 

"Ahh, Avery. We've been looking for you for so long, my dear. The years have treated you well I see." I watch helplessly as the man before me, eyes me with lust meant to be reserved for their mate. I instinctively take a step back at the sudden unwanted attention and look into the amethyst coloured eyes of Xavier Churchwood. The oldest on the Council of Werewolves. 

Xavier smirks as he notices my sudden change in demeanor. He takes a step forward, his dep maroon and black robe flowing out behind him, scraping against the floor of the forest we were in. I gulp audibly as the tall man makes his steady way to where I was frozen solid. 

"How long has it been now? 18 years?" Xavier rattles off numbers on his fingers as he stops walking a couple meters in front of me. I watch as he holds out his hand to me. I stare at his hand in disgust, knowing the only reason he's ever wanted me for. 

"Come now, Avery. We have much to do." I glance back to Xaviers face and watch as he eyes me with such disgusting desire that I have to refrain from gagging. As quick as a viper, the hand he was holding out for me to take, was gone. I stare at Xavier and wait for the realisation of what I had just done to fall on him. 

I held up the knife I had been inching towards since he got here, now covered in a thin layer of blood. Xavier eyes the blade with confusion, and I watch as his nostrils flare in pain. 

"You little BITCH!" Xavier roars as he brings his other arm towards me, trying to grab at me with his last attached hand. I glance down quickly to find his amputated hand twitch where it lay in the grass. I smile and look back up at Xavier, still bringing his arm down towards me. I was much quicker now than he anticipated though. 

Before he could register what was happening, I dashed behind him and grabbed a hold of his head, caging him in a deadly head lock. One move on his part, and I would decapitate him instantly. Xavier stills as he realises what position he was in. I had done many hours of research on him, preparing myself for this exact battle. He had done this exact same maneuver on his brother, Tyrin, when they were fighting for a place on the Council. Tyrin was older than Xavier by two years at the time, but Xavier had been perfecting this one move for years. 

I held my knife against the throat of Xavier, my arms entangled around his head so that he could not move let alone breath. I squeezed tighter as Xavier made an attempt at moving his arm to reach me. The only compromising factor in this move, is that your opponent can freely move their arms and legs if they wish to, harming you before you had the chance to behead them. 

Xavier immediately stopped moving. 

"I will not go and be some breeder for you. I refuse to carry the vile pups that you would create." I snarl in his ear, keeping an eye on the other beings that surrounded me. They had not moved an inch since Xavier made himself known. Ideas flashed in my mind. The beasts have most likely been forced to fight against their will. Once Xavier is dead, they will stop fighting as the demand will be void. I smile at the realisation. 

"It is but your destiny to, Avery." Xavier winces as the knife pierces his throat. My anger boils as my Lycan fights for control. I struggle to keep her at bay, and Xavier notices. Fear wraps around him like a vice and my Lycan drools at the thought of ripping his head off. 

"Oh Xavier, you wish it was true. Now, I'd like you to meet your Destiny." I laugh manically as my bones break excruciatingly fast, my Lycan pushing forward completely.