Bloodwood Academy Shifter: Semester Three (Bloodwood Year One Book 3) by Rae Foxx

Author:Rae Foxx [Foxx, Rae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-15T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

“Well, he stinks like ass.” Tommy took the words right out of my mouth. “Dead ass.”

We all nodded in agreement. Me, Finn, and Scarlet were all standing in a semicircle, staring down at the mutilated figure of Pater’s wolf. The vile ass-smelling carcass lay with its tongue hanging out, eyes clouded over. There wasn’t a drop of life left in him.

It was almost anti-climactic. Pater had beaten Howl and I until we were black and blue. Beaten Galina for years. Threatened, coerced, lied, manipulated.

Now he lay there, looking like a swollen version of a cartoon character.

“I expected more. I expected to feel like we saved the world,” I grumbled, kicking his paw and sending it in a direction he shouldn’t have been able to move in.

Which, you know, was probably because he was dead.

“Yeah, wrong bitch for that,” Tommy kicked the paw back towards me, it looked like a broken beach ball. I wasn’t sure I wanted to play that game. “That one took off with your mom.”

He nodded toward the broken trees around the edge of the clearing where Nicky and her gorillas had vanished. I hmphed loudly and rolled my eyes.

“They can have her.” I’m sure they would get along fine.

Picking up a bottle of water that had somehow survived from our sparring match, I splashed the tepid liquid over my arms and legs, wiping blood from my shoulder and feeling along the rim of my ear, making sure Selene hadn’t ripped the damned thing off. All seemed well, although there was clearly a chunk taken out.

Yep, I was officially going to look like a total badass.

I wasn’t the only one with brand new scars.

Saxon stood next to Danvers and the twins on the other side of the clearing, displaying a new cut on his chest, his open shirt revealing the cut but no blood, which was both creepy and awesome.

Howl sat with his mother, gently dabbing at her face with his shirt, his pants were ripped at the back pockets like someone had tried to tear them from his body. Leaves and twigs were knotted in his hair like a hippie who had taken too many hits. He was torn to bits, yet, he looked as happy as he had after he marked me in the woods. It seemed like forever ago.

Finn’s shirt was torn at the elbows and his brilliant hair whipping out from his ponytail to frame his chiseled face marred with dirt, blood, or tree bark. I couldn’t tell which was which.

My pack and I were battle-scarred and broken. Maybe not as broken as the last time. We had a win this time. That made all the difference. We would still be roasting animals over a fire in our caves—back to fire-making and roasting whole animals over said fire. No showers. No beds. Just our rage and hunger for revenge to give us comfort.

But still, we had a mother fucking win.

My pack deserved better than this. I would give them each the life they deserved come hell or high water.

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