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By Root 3772 0

ring, the center ring. Gregory lay in a naked heap in the center of that ring, hands bound behind his back with thick grey tape. His body was a mass of bruises and cuts. I could see bone glistening in his legs, jagged and wet where they’d broken his legs. Compound fractures are very nasty things. That was why he couldn’t walk out on his own power. They’d broken his legs.

There was a small sound that drew me down the aisle to the railing around the ring. Vivian and Fernando were in the ring, too. I’d missed them because they were too close to the side of the railing, hidden from view.

Vivian raised her face up from the ground, tape across her mouth, one eye bloody and swollen shut. Fernando shoved her face back to the ground, showing her hands bound with tape. Showing what he was doing to her. He drew himself out of her, wet and finished at last. He patted her bare butt, giving her a small slap. “That was nice.”

I was already walking towards them across the sand of the ring. Which means I’d gotten over the railing in spike heels and a floor-length skirt. I didn’t remember doing it.

Fernando stood, fastening his pants, smiling at me. “If you hadn’t bargained for her freedom, I’d have never been allowed to touch her. My father doesn’t share.”

I kept walking. I had one of the knives out, held to the side of the dress. I wasn’t sure if he’d noticed, or if I cared. I held my empty left hand out to him. “You’re a big man when the lady’s tied and gagged. How are you when the lady’s armed?”

He smiled, and it was mocking. He touched Vivian with his foot, casually, like you’d poke a dog. “She’s beautiful but a little too submissive for my tastes. I like them with a little more fight to them like your wolf-bitch.” He finished fastening his pants, running his hands up his chest as if remembering. “C’t’une bonne bourre.”

I knew enough French to know that he’d said Sylvie was a good lay. I balanced the knife. It wasn’t made for throwing, but in a pinch it’d do.

There was the faintest shadow in his eyes, as if for the first time he realized that there was no one here to save him; then something leaped over the railings. A blur of speed and motion that hit Fernando hard enough to roll him across the ground. When they came up, Richard was on top of him.

I yelled, “Don’t kill him, Richard! Don’t kill him!” I ran for them, but Jamil got there first. Jamil knelt by Richard, grabbing his arm, saying something to him. Richard grabbed Jamil by the throat and flung him across the ring. I ran to Jamil, kneeling beside him, but it was too late. His throat was crushed. His eyes were wide, frightened; he tried to breathe but it wasn’t working. His legs spasmed, spine bowing, as he fought to breath. He grabbed my hand, his eyes screaming at me. There was nothing I could do. Either he’d heal it or he’d die.

I screamed, “Shit, Richard, help him!”

Richard plunged his hand into Fernando’s stomach. He didn’t have claws yet. It was only human fingers digging in the flesh, searching for the heart. He was strong enough that he’d dig it out unless we stopped him.

I stood and Jamil’s hand slid out of mine. He let me go, but his eyes would haunt me. I ran for Richard, screaming his name: “Richard!”

He looked at me with amber wolf eyes in his human face. He reached towards me with one bloody hand, and the mental shields that kept us safe from one another crashed.

My vision went black, and when I could see again, I was kneeling in the ring. I could feel my body but I could also feel Richard’s fingers pushing their way through thick flesh. The blood was warm but there wasn’t enough of it. He wanted to use teeth to open the belly and was fighting the urge.

Thomas knelt beside me. “Use your marks to calm him before he kills Fernando.”

I shook my head. My fingers were tearing through flesh. I had to press my hands against my eyes to remember what body I was in. I found my voice and that helped separate us. Helped me know who I was, what I was. “Shit, I don’t know how.”

“Then take his rage, his beast.” Thomas touched my hands, gripping them tight, not