Ronan carried the firearm with him, smelling the silver inside the chamber. Clearly, whoever took Rem was not human, and he could use every bit of aid in order to ensure her safety. Now was not the time to establish who was a better fighter, not while she was human and already injured.
He’d use the silver slug if he had to.
It didn’t take long to reach the stranger, Rem being carried over his shoulder.
The two males ran through the woods with Ronan hot on the assailant’s heels. The Alpha bounded over fallen branches, getting scratched by sharp, broken twigs.
When there was a momentary advantage, Ronan bound outwards as his arm shifted into a clawed hand, grabbing the male by the opposite shoulder that Rem was on, giving no relent. The male dropped Rem immediately, his body tensing for a fight. Ronan was ready for that and helped ease her fall to the ground. He didn't have time to ensure it was a gentle landing, but it was better than crashing.
He had to nullify this target immediately. If Ronan couldn't smell who or what this person was, then the silver would reveal their identity. That would tell him his next move.
Ronan made sure he was between the stranger and Rem, the Alpha turning his head as he pulled the trigger, gritting his teeth as he readied himself for the dreaded, awful noise.
CRACK.
The sound echoed through the woods, followed by a howl of pain that belted from the stranger. Blood poured from his shoulder, and the howl sounded that of a dying animal. Awolf’showl.
It's a fucking rogue shifter working for the Crowley Hunters.
The shifter returned the favor, and as Ronan winced from his pained ears, the rogue stabbed Ronan in his pectoral with a miniature blade that was tucked into his sleeve. Despite how much had happened, it occurred within seconds, Rem still stumbling to her feet.
Ronan barely moved once he had been stabbed, more irate than in pain, growling and glowering at the rogue with rancor. I can't kill him. I need answers. I have to get answers. Don’t kill him.
Ronan discarded the firearm, using his free hand to dig into the rogue's wound, feeling the wet warmth of blood and tissue, pulling at torn flesh with his claw. The rogue desperately bawled and writhed. Ronan grabbed the rogue’s shoulder so hard that the clavicle broke, to which the cries turned to wails.
In their native tongue, Ronan said, "You're a coward and a traitor. You'll die painfully. Answer my questions, and how quickly you die can be negotiated."
The shifter spat blood in Ronan's face, but he did not flinch. The rogue spoke with a shaky voice, "You'll find out sooner rather than later, Alpha."
"Why do you have no scent?" Ronan pressed on. The wind blew, carrying the smells of the forest around, and all Ronan could identify wasblood. It was as if Rem and this rogue didn’t exist.
No wonder they didn’t smell them coming.
Some kind of unknown magic, somewhere, was being used. And that made Ronan feel vulnerable.
The rogue laughed, speaking through a shaky voice. "The humans are fucking crafty. It's taken them eighty years since the Purge to regain themselves, but they're doing it. I was just playing for the winning team."
"You seem confused about who permanently lost the war."
"S'that why you're collecting the Silvers? Need the help for yourpermanentposition?" The rogue’s face grimaced as Ronan pulled his hand away.
"A wise wolf sharpens his claws during peacetime."
"You better hope your pack is solid."
The rogue and Ronan's gazes met, mostly unblinking, as the two males breathed heavily, one from pain and the other from adrenaline. The rogue's face turned to agony, his eyes glowing amber before he scrunched them shut. His skin sprouted brown fur while his body struggled with the pain and poison.
The silver was already getting to him, and it made Ronan worry for his sister who would be battling silver wounds of her own.Focus. Focus on this.
"Fine!" the rogue shouted as if arguing with another, his eyelids fluttering. "I might be a rogue... But... I'm still a wolf at heart. C-can you really... Blame me?" There was a desperation in his voice as he gasped for breath. "You," he began, his breathing growing more laborious with every word, blood spilling onto the forest floor from his mouth. "Y-you need... Need, gather... More of us. And magic. There are tr-traitors among you."
He coughed up more blood, and the veins in his body turned black. When he spoke, his voice was full of strain. "Humans... Pissed. So are... Witches. W-war, n-not over... Just took pause."
He coughed again, and it was black liquid this time.This one was weak to begin with. Ronan dropped the rogue, who died within seconds, the gentle sound of leaves and birds reclaiming the scene. As Ronan eyed the dead rogue, his thoughts moved once more to his sister Suna, finally allowing himself to worry about her.
Suna has a small immunity, like I do, over years of exposure. She should be fine. The silver will be a bitch to deal with, but she is strong.
He wiped his hand on the clothes of the dead rogue, the body still warm, although the brown eyes were lifeless. Ronan would leave him for the other beasts of these woods, as noteverythingwas weak to silver.
