A STUDY IN TERMINAL by Kara Linaburg

Author:Kara Linaburg [Linaburg, Kara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Monarch Educational Services, L.L.C.

New York City (Three Years Earlier)

Loud voices circled around me, some angry, others cheering me on.

“Hit him.”

“Slam him!”

“Dude, sick!”

The concrete was firm beneath my combat boots. Sweat stung my eyes and dripped off the ends of my hair. I stared down my opponent, his gaze showing no emotion, his dark pupils nearly the same color as his skin.

We both panted and our chests heaved in unison from our first tussle as we waited for the other to make the next move. Ángel’s voice echoed in my head.

Weakness separates the wolves from the dead men. Only dead men show that they are weak.

“Come on, boys. A little action.”

Ángel’s words jarred Simon into movement. He sounded a war cry as he barreled forward. I stepped out of the way just in time to deliver a hard kick to his groin. He doubled over. I saw my chance and shot an uppercut to the jaw.

His eyes rolled toward the sky, and his body jerked back. Cheers erupted, followed by screams and shouts of a hungry mob. I craved the blood of others, and I fed their hunger with my actions.

I dove for Simon, ready for the kill. The world around me blurred, and all I knew was that I had to win this fight if I was going to be accepted, if I wanted to prove myself to this man called Ángel, who had promised me a place of belonging.

Suddenly, pain shot up my leg as my ankle twisted to the side.

God, no.

But my prayer was in vain, and I tripped over rubble, causing me to curse as I tried to right myself.

My klutziness was my undoing. Before I could grasp what was happening, Simon grabbed me around the neck. His nails dug into my skin as he slammed me to the ground.

The breath fled my body

and

I

was

drowning.

Simon put me in a chokehold, squeezing the life from me, and I kicked in an attempt to break free. We were wolves, but now I was the prey.

And I had exactly one minute to escape before I lost consciousness.

My hands reached back, searching, trying to find something to distract him. Black dots formed around my vision.

Panic.

Panic.

I am going to die.

My hands scraped the pavement, and the skin of my knuckles tore at the rough concrete. My heartbeat roared in my ears and deafened the cries of the Fénix Blood. Where was Ángel in the fray? Was he going to let Simon lay me out? Would they bury me in a dumpster and leave my body to rot while my soul went to hell?

Then I hit gold. My fingers closed around my victory weapon, and without hesitation, I slammed the broken piece of concrete into the side of Simon’s face. I felt a sweet release and rolled away. Without waiting to regain breath, I was on top of my opponent, ignoring the blood that streamed from his busted nose. My hands wrapped around his throat.

I lifted his head and slammed it back onto the ground. He groaned, and his hands grappled for me, closing around my arms, his nails once again breaking skin.

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