Page 79 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
But this isn’t shifting like I’ve seen Lycans do before. I’ve seen Jayme’s wolf emerge many times during training. This is not his normal wolf. This creature isenormous, easily twice the size of Branson, who is the largest Lycan I’ve encountered. Dark fur streaked with crimson patches covers his massive frame. His eyes glow white, completely devoid of recognition or humanity.
“Jayme!” Rhiannon scrambles backward as the beast’s deafening bellow reverberates through the stone chamber.
Akila dives for the wall and slams her fist against the red alarm button. The piercing wail fills the dungeon and echoes outside.
Jayme, or whatever he’s become, flings his cot at Rhiannon. She narrowly dodges it before it crashes against the cell bars, bending the iron with a deafening clang.
The creature lunges from the cell, targeting Conan. He leaps sideways just in time, evading colossal claws that tear deep gashes into the stone.
Akila shifts mid-jump, her brown wolf form tackling the beast’s hindquarters, but Jayme throws her off like she weighs nothing. She hits the opposite wall with a sickening thud.
The beast’s white eyes lock onto Rhiannon again.
She draws her sword, but hesitates to use it against him, knowing Jayme is still somewhere in that monster. His massive jaws open, revealing teeth like daggers.
Time slows to a crawl. Rhiannon retreats, but the stone wall blocks her escape, leaving her cornered in the narrow space.
All I can think is,No, not again.
That familiar freeze takes hold. That same helpless feeling from childhood, watching my father’s fists connect with my mother’s face while I cowered in the corner, too small and weak to intervene. I was paralyzed like a coward, too, when that blade meant for me had pierced Rhiannon’s shoulder.
But this time is different.
Never again. I won’t be useless this time.
Panic spikes within me, a familiar wave I’ve felt a thousand times before. But this time, it doesn’t hold me in place. Instead, my pulse stutters, then catches on a second rhythm that doesn’t quite feel like mine.
My gaze snaps toward Rhiannon, still trapped against the stone wall with nowhere to go. The strange double-thump in my chest intensifies, beating stronger the longer I look at her. Whatever’s happening in my body is tied to her.
I shove the weirdness of it aside.You can figure it out later.Right now, there’s a giant murder-wolf between us.
My eyes dart around the dungeon corridor, settling on a pile of rusted metal near the wall, underneath a broken torch sconce. I grab the largest piece, which turns out to be a mounting bracket meant to attached the torch to the wall. It’s a three-foot-long, thick iron rod with a wicked hook at one end.
The beast charges Rhiannon just as I vault over the stone ledge into the corridor.
“Hey!” I roar, swinging the iron rod with everything I’ve got.
It connects with Jayme’s massive skull with a resounding clang, but it doesn’t hurt him. Nothing I could throw atsomething that size would do real damage, but it gets his attention.
Those white eyes swivel toward me, filled with predatory hunger.Perfect.
“Come on, you overgrown mutt,” I call out, moving back toward the center of the corridor. “I’m right here.”
Jayme lunges for me, but his enormous size works against him in the narrow space. I dart between his legs, jabbing the hooked end of the rod into his ribs before rolling away from his snapping jaws.
“Ethan, get out of there!” Rhiannon’s voice rips across the corridor with more panic than even I feel.
No chance. I’m not abandoning you again.
The beast spins with surprising speed, one massive paw catching me across the chest. The impact sends me flying, and I crash into the stone wall hard enough to see stars. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but I force myself back to my feet.
Two enormous wolves tear through the dungeon entrance. One of them is Branson — I’d know his dark brown form anywhere — but the massive black wolf behind him is a stranger. The black wolf is larger than Branson, radiating an authority that prickles across my skin.
It has to be Xander.
I swing the iron rod again, hook it around Jayme’s rear leg, and yank hard. He stumbles. Branson tackles him from the side.
The black wolf — definitely Xander — joins the fray, jaws clamping down on Jayme’s throat while Branson secures his hindquarters. But even with both of them restraining him, the giant wolf thrashes with terrifying strength.
