TW: Intense Violence

This is a mistake.

I know it is.

And I still persist forward down this path; carry on with this choice.

I imagine this is why my family despises me to the level they do. Death and misfortune is something that seems to cling to me. 

Who knows? Maybe I'm cursed. 

The picture of Liam sick in his bed flashes through my mind and I can't stop myself from flinching at the memory. I shake my head, trying to keep my focus on tracking my prey before my grief overwhelms me.

You can mourn later, I tell myself.

I turn my head and sniff. In the evening breeze, underneath the heavy smell of the river—I catch a strange scent. It's unlike anything I've smelled before. Not bad, but not good either. And for some reason I find myself breathing it deeper into my lungs, letting it settle in my nose and dance over my tongue.

I find an unexpected comfort in the scent. My wolf roils under my skin the more I take in. The tiny hairs on my arms rising to attention. I have a sinking suspicion as to who this scent belongs to but I want to be wrong. 

With careful, but quick steps I follow after it. The wooden planked walkways creak softly underfoot, though most of that sound is swallowed by the bubbling and breaking current of river feet below. Willow Green's architecture is unique, most of the town being built upon stilts to deal with flood waters and the passage of large boats and barges.

I rush to cross another rope bridge, noting the Inn where I've bought a room for the night is not far off in the distance.

The sound of flesh striking upon flesh hits my ears and I turn in the direction, slowing my steps. I'm able to make out voices as I draw up on a walkway that is nestled between two dock warehouses.

"Return the gold."

"Come now, let's be reasonable."

A fleshy strike echoes over the river, followed by groaning laughter.

"Hand it over, Ace. I'm not in the mood for your jokes."

"Or don't and we'll take it off your dead body, anyways." A huskier voice adds a bit too eager for that outcome. 

I hang back in the darkness, listening and watching, taking stock of the situation. There are at least six fae men—three I recognize from the tavern. Ace, the large viking like man, and the willowy fae who played at Ace's table. The other three are obscured by shadow but they don't feel like much of a threat. Truly, most of my wariness is focused on the large fae from the bar. From his stature alone I assume he must be a shifter—possibly a bear.

A part of me wants to turn and walk away, pretend I never saw anything and that the letter Liam left for me doesn't matter. But my feet remain rooted in place.

"My friends—"

The large fae delivers a hard punch to Ace's stomach. He doubles over as a rush of air leaves his lungs.

"...Alright, not friends," he wheezes, slowly rising up.

"That gold belongs to Kepler."

"No, it did belong to him. And now it belongs to me." Ace pats the pocket of his coat and the chorus of jingling coins rises over the rush of the river below.

The Willowy fae growls and with a flick of his hand, out from the river a tendril of water cuts through the air and wraps around Ace's throat. He is lifted up off the walkway, choking and gasping. His hands claw at the water but slip and slide through, unable to find a way to free himself.

He's going to die.

I can't allow that.

Irritation boils in my blood and I slide out from the shadows, making myself known.

"I'm going to have to ask you to hold off on the killing."

Ace is dropped to the ground as the entire gang turns in surprise. The walkway groans and shudders under the sudden impact.

The large fae's eyes narrow and I tense under the weight of his gaze. My hand goes for the weapons set against my waist, but hidden beneath my coat. My gaze bounces between the men, regarding each of them closely.

"Run along."

"I will. But first I need to talk with that man—"

"While I'm playing nice."

He dismisses me with a wave of his big hand, attention shifting to the man at his feet. The ants are swarming my bloodstream again. Being this close to Ace is making me want to crawl out of my skin. And yet, there is another—stronger sensation in my body; an instinctual rightness. It's as though I've been looking for this man my entire life without knowing it.

"It'll only take a moment."

His scarred lip pulls back from his teeth.

"Piss off, kid."

My eye twitches at the backhanded remark. Maybe I am a kid in their eyes, fae life spans are long. But I know they are severely underestimating me.

"...I'm not a kid, just small."

The willowy man from the tavern steps away from the wall with a husky chuckle.

"You slow or somethin'? he said to piss off!"

"I'd love to, but it's important. More important than your gold."

The large, scarred fae slams his fist into the wall; the force resounds like a crack of thunder.

"Get rid of her."

"Gladly."

I arch a brow, my fingers sliding over the bone handle of one the curved iron daggers sheathed at my waist. My claws and a present my brother gave me for my twelfth birthday.

They are my preferred weapon of choice but right now I need something that has a bit more reach. I unsheath the short sword at my waist, another gift from Liam.

The willowly man's eyes flash an ice blue as I level the sword at him. "Cute."

Ace struggles to lift his head up, glazed eyes taking in the sight of me with the sword. The large fae kicks his chin, forcing him back into his prone position before pressing his big, booted foot into his chest.

"Wait your turn."

Ace appears to find all of this amusing because a strange, strangled laugh fills the air.

"You're all fucked."

The fae holding him steps down harder, cutting his laughter short.

"How do you imagine that, Ace?" he asks, turning his gaze in my direction. His lips curl up away from his teeth in a vicious smile. It only makes his image that much more imposing. "Wanna make a bet on how long the kid lasts?"

Blood dribbles out the side of Ace's mouth as he smiles. "Why not? My pockets are already heavy with your gold. What's a few more of your coins for my coffers?"

The fae's smile drops into a sneer.

"Kill her!"

There is a moment of stillness and then one of the men takes a step in my direction. 

I launch myself forward with leaping steps—one, two, three—bringing my chest toward my knees to gain more momentum; hand tightening around the hilt of my short sword. The muscles in my arm are coiled to the point it's painful. Teeth gritted, I release all that tension with a broad swing, meeting the first lackey before he can react.

My sword connects with his soft belly. There is only a moment of resistance, blade sticking, the force of it jolting up my arm. With a fierce, rumbling growl I apply more pressure. Nothing is going to stop me now. The blade slides through one side of him and out the other.

My wolf rises with gnashing teeth—the excitement of our kill singing through my veins. I push forward through the shredded parts, ignoring the smell of hot iron and warm splatter of blood on my skin.

One of the men jumps at me from the shadows, leg extended to kick me. I leap up and return the favor. My foot hits him square in the chest. His grunt of pain barely registers as I send him flying back into the darkness he sprang from. 

Tendrils of water rush towards me and I lose my footing as I attempt to leap away from them. Arms wrap around me from behind. A vicious growl rumbles in my chest and I twist my body to the side. Turning my sword around in my hand, I stab back into the small space I've created.

A screech of agony sets my ears to ringing as the arms holding me fall away. I release my hold on my sword and spin around. All of the hours I've spent training with Liam—the scrimmages with my other siblings; these men made a huge mistake underestimating.

I charge forward grabbing onto the wounded fae's shoulders and I pull myself upward. Using the hilt of the sword protruding from his gut as leverage, I launch myself up into the air—hands, now free, find the curved daggers at my waist. 

Feet over head, I land on the tips of my toes—claws in hand. "You should never bet against me."

"Kill her already!"

Ace's laughter swallows the other man's curses as I rush for the Willowy fae. He's the biggest threat to me right now. More tendrils, thick and thrashing, launch up out of the river below.

He throws his hands out toward me and the water heeds his command. I jump back as a tendril comes crashing down. The walkway shudders underneath us, and the wooden planks splinter at the brunt force of the striking water.

Note to self: don't take that head on.

I dance around the edge and continue forward. Another tendril lash forward and catches me in the side. It tears through my coat, through the fabric of my shirt and into my skin. The stinging pain makes me want to cry out, but I bite down hard instead.

I stagger a bit. 

And that allows me to get a better view of Ace.

I find he's watching me with a steady, dark gaze. When our eyes meet he throws out a hand in my direction. There's this strange understanding in the motion and the look in his eyes. I'm not sure how I know—but I get the sense he wants me to toss him one of my daggers.

My gaze shifts back to the Willowy fae and I pivot. I'm deviating from my original plan. It's probably a mistake but another compelling—almost overriding force is driving me at the moment.

I make a quick break in Ace's direction and he smiles wide and victorious. Nothing has happened, we haven't succeeded in anything but it's like he's won already.

The man standing over him, hunches forward. The unsettling sound of bones cracking and moving echoes off the water. He hasn't completely shifted, it's only partial—face elongated, his shoulder wider and his form more towering than before.

He roars out in my direction and I feel a real trickle of fear for the first time since this fight began.

"Come on!" Ace calls out, shaking me from the possibility of retreat.

"Damn it all!"

I leap toward him in frustration, twisting a bit to launch one of my daggers back at the Willowy fae. My body hits the walkway with a bone rattling jolt. I watch my dagger knick his cheek as it soars wide, but it's enough to break his concentration and break his magic.

That has probably only bought us a few seconds. I turn back around and scramble forward, thrusting my hand into Ace once it's within reach.

When our hands touch, it's the moment I become certain, this man—is my mate. His hand tightens around mine and his eyes widen in shock. It's only a grain of sand in the large hourglass of churning time, but in that brief second, a flurry of emotions cascade through his dark eyes.

Confusion, wonder, longing, tenderness, sorrow, anger—then it's as though nothing at all happened. He takes my dagger and stabs it into the ankle of his captor. Over and over he stabs. The quickness of his strikes takes the rest of us by surprise.

The large fae roars out in pain, reeling back from Ace and falling onto his butt. Ace smiles wide, gaze locking on me once more. He looks wild and vicious under the moonlight.

"Do you trust me?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good," he says with a wink before he locks his free hand around my wrist and rolls himself over the edge of the walkway.

My body tenses but I don't have enough strength or time to react. I plummet over the edge and into the yawning watery darkness below. A scream lodges itself deep in my chest.

Then before I meet the water, I'm yanked upward. The skin at my wrist pinches and my shoulder pulls hard, burning pain radiates up my arm into my fingertips. I grit my teeth as my body swings hard, knocking me against a thick, sturdy stilt leg.

From above me Ace apologizes, "Sorry. You're heavier than you look."

I tilt my head back and glare up at him. My eyes skitter over the sheepish grin on his face and I notice he's driven my dagger into the stilt leg. I find myself a bit impressed that he is holding us both up by one hand—not that I plan to tell him that.

"What's the plan now?"

"...Hadn't thought beyond the escaping bit, honestly."

"Of course not," I mutter through my teeth. 

The two fae above begin yelling at one another.

"I'll kill him! Stab me with iron?! What a rotten fae bastard!" The shifter fae bellows.

"They've gone into the river. I'll go after—"

There is the sound of a slap and a husky yelp. "You fool! Don't you see I've been stabbed by iron? We'll deal with Ace and his bitch later. Help me first."

The walkway above groans.

"What about the others?"

"They're dead! Leave them to the birds!" The voice that roars sounds barely human now.

I'm not sure how long we wait—long enough that my hand has gone numb and I'm certain we are alone. And still we hang a bit longer in silence.

Finally, my impatience takes over and I say, "Getting tired, yet?"

Ace chuckles and drops his face to meet my eyes. I expect the buzzing but it's quiet—quieter than it's ever been. This quiet makes me very aware of his hand wrapped around my wrist. His touch isn't warm, but ice cold—cold enough that it might be burning the skin beneath.

"What's your opinion on moonlight swims?"

My stomach drops at his question and I frown. It's not hard to see where this is leading.

"You've got to be kidding..."

"I'd never joke about a moonlight swim with a beautiful woman."

I was right, earlier.

Coming after Ace was a mistake.