(Book 5) Hayden Mackay and The Pride of Haima-Endira

30.1 Saviors

A powerful kick in the torso got the beast slammed into the wall. It snorted bitterly tumbling down on the ground with a thump. Its huge buttoned eyes enlarged. "Sire," it muttered, horror-struck. Being absurdly frightened it made typical beastly sounds and hastened away out of the tunnel as though a scalded monkey.

Tears and blood were flooding down. Celina groaned in her wail of anguish. She felt dirty and distorted, yet she wouldn't let the attack rip her heart and soul into pieces. The beast wasn't taking the pleasure off her anymore. However, the pain didn't subside. It was only aggravating with the mourning, to which she rebelled against.

"Get up!"

The voice sounded familiar, but the pain wouldn't let her oblige.

"Get up!" The voice, this time, was harsher.

She moaned and groaned, her insides burning. Her brain asking her to draw courage unto herself. Despite her condition, she felt her spirit strong enough to deal with the situation she wasn't responsible for. Depending on remaining strength, she fluttered her eyes open and watched through her tears.

Light shone from the opening maw of the tunnel, backlighting the reflection of the tall man standing beside her feet. Celina's eyes flew open. She gasped loudly in horror, not expecting him to come to her rescue. Forgetting about her hands being tied with ropes, she tried to slide back but in vain.

For a while, she struggled being stuck at the same spot. To think wisely or rather anything at all was unlikely. Relentless fear mounted as Almourah took a step forward and leaned down. With his razor-sharp talons for nails, he easily cut the ropes. Celina quickly pulled her hand and legs close to her protectively and sat straight against the wall. Blood leaked down from the torn gaps of her outfits, wet hair plastered to either side of her face. She pulled her knees up to her shivering chin and counted the seconds until regaining a sound common sense that condemned her fear to be any real.

Almourah leaned further closer, pointedly staring at her cuts, deep gashes and at her shoulder bleeding heavily from the teeth marks. Her skin blistering with acid burns. She tightened her fists when panic arose in her nerves. Finding Almourah scrutinizing her bloodied body, the sensation of worry clenched in her gut. She needed her stone so bad.

After a few moments of sickly silence, he uttered a groan and fixed a stare with her. "Last chance," he said, "Go away. Come back with him. And I leave the woman of the country alone. Last chance."

He lifted his hand and tossed a few things on the floor beside her. A thick rug and the bracelet. Her heart sank. She was torn between denying and accepting any help from him. His avid hatred towards the woman made her believe that he was showing mercy on her only because she was the bearer of the Moonstone.

Almourah then lashed a hard fist into her side. Celina got startled, a yell escaped her throat. She shifted her position aside when a crack formed on the wall on the collision, and pieces fell down as small fragments of stone. A streak of water flowed down forming a puddle of water.

She trembled slightly, understanding his intention. Tears dropped down. But what was she supposed to do, thank him?

Breathing like a wild hog, Almourah rose to his feet and began to walk away.

"He is innocent," Celina claimed, keeping her voice mellow. In her state of vulnerability, words flew out as if they were going to have any impact on the other person. "You want to fight with someone who never even asked for the Cornelian. Aren't you hurting yourself for holding a grudge against him?"

He slightly turned his head aside and sneered. His face smoldering with aversion. "My fight is with Haima."

Doubts and suspicions raised in her heart but neither of them muttered another word now that her name had come up. Why would they anyway, when they agreed upon the same fact that Haimavati was indeed the real source of friction between him and the country.