VEGAS

XXVIII: man or a monster

"If I cannot bend heaven, I will raise hell."

____

TW: Graphic violence

Pete crashed to the dirt floor with a bone-rattling force. A guttural grunt escaped his lips as he struggled to push himself up once more. The intense, searing pain in his shoulder confirmed that an arrow had pierced him, but he refused to acknowledge it. He continued running.

Pete was aware that he was calling out for Vegas, bellowing his name as loudly as his strained throat could, but his cries were swamped by the cacophony of soldiers charging towards them from all directions.

It was loud. It rattled his ears until everything around him seemed to dissolve into silence, the only sound Pete could hear was the rasping of his own labored breaths as he sought to catch air. The roar of soldiers battling all around him faded into the background as his vision narrowed, fixed on the sight of the Alpha headed directly towards him.

Vegas' horse galloped with a powerful stride, carrying the Alpha forward at a pace that made his cloak ripple and swirl behind him. Like a dark smoke blown by the harsh wind.

The distance between them shortened.

The world seemed to slow down. The ruffling of dirt around Pete seemed to stop.

Vegas vaulted off his steed with a fierce leap, his body surging forwards in a powerful run, kicking up clouds of dust with every bounding stride. His gaze remained fixated on Pete, his eyes ablaze with fervor, like dark pools of burning intensity.

Close. Vegas felt too close. As if Pete could already smell his scent from all the dust and blood lingering in the humid air.

Pete ran more. Every leap a drag to his exhausted body.

Soldiers on horseback charged forward as they followed in the King of Kali's wake. On the other side, soldiers from the opposing forces pursued Pete with unrelenting determination. Each group rushed forward with a single-minded focus, their horses galloping swiftly and the riders ready to engage in brutal combat.

"Vegas!" Pete cried out; tears continued to stream down his face as he sprinted away from the soldiers of Fontos. Pete could see Vegas yelling commands, pushing soldiers away from his path as he ran towards Pete.

"Vegas! Hold me...hold me," Pete huffed.

Vegas' gaze was piercing, cutting through the chaotic battlefield like a keen blade, silently urging Pete to continue moving, to not slow down as stopping even for a moment meant being exposed to a barrage of arrows.

Closer.

A couple more feet. Closer.

Vegas extended his hand towards Pete with intense urgency. His palm spread open, offering a lifeline for Pete to bridge the gap between them. There was a desperate plea sparking in his dark eyes.

"Take my hand! I'm here!" Vegas demanded in a scream.

Pete's hand reached out, desperate to grasp Vegas'. The space between them seemed like an endless chasm, but they pushed on, both determined to close the gap that separated them.

Another batch of arrows flew to the grey skies.

More, run more. Every step was a struggle, but Pete forced himself to keep running.

Almost. Pete gasped for air.

A little bit more.

Pete pushed another step. And another.