Page 53 of The Red Room
“We’ve been waiting for you, Natalia …”
His ragged voice dampens behind the thumping in my ears, each heartbeat sending blood pulsing to my trembling limbs. Around this corner is something I’m not so sure I’ll come back from. My life, whether I’m cut down here or thrown into some van for transport to the Vostik estate, is about to change forever. And it isn’t until I hear a familiar whimper that I will my body forward.
“There she is,” Viktor says, his eyes glowing in the dark of the red room. The lights flip on, a string of fluorescents dangling from the ceiling. “Right on time.”
Horror twists my face as I stare at Viktor, my mouth losing slack. He’s not alone. No, he’s standing behind someone, his impressive claw readied at her throat. His nails have already broken the first layer of skin, leaving blood to trickle along Courtney’s small neck and down her sternum.
“Natalie,” she gasps, and he digs his claws deeper. “What is happening?”
No. No, no, no. This can’t be real. I won’t let this happen to her. Tears roll down Courtney’s cheeks as quickly as new pearls of blood stream down her chest and dress. There are slash marks cutting the fabric along her torso. She might’ve put up a fight, maybe she even got a few good shots in. But she is no match for the wolf standing alarmingly close to her back.
If I take another step, she dies. If I run away … she dies. I stare at her, wishing I could say all of the things I’ve ever thought to myself, all the love I have for her out loud. Panic fills her bloodshot eyes, and the monster keeping her steady seems to enjoy the absolute terror on both of our faces.
“It’s going to be okay, Court,” I say softly and nod. “He doesn’t want you.”
Viktor smiles wide, his grin sadistic and ravenous. “Yes,Court. I don’t want you.”
My heart rate doesn’t spike, but sputters erratically. The scalding temperature of the room does little to melt the ice building in each limb. Those eyes. Those haunting fucking eyes dim a shade darker than I’ve ever seen.
“You,” he whispers in her ear loud enough for me to hear, his hellish gaze never leaving mine. “Have proven useful.”
“Let her go, Viktor,” I demand through clenched teeth.
He glances at Courtney for a moment as if he considers it, then directs his gray glare to my hand hiding the arrow, my bobbing neck, and finally, my wide, terrified eyes.
“I could,” he says, his grip on her noticeably loosening. “But how else is my big brother going to learn?”
“Learn what?” I stare at him with conviction.
A hideous grin spreads Viktor Vostik’s face. His canines grow to sharp points. Each of his pupils expand until the whites vanish in pure, unsettling blackness. “That I am the next alpha, and—” He pauses, his voice becoming menacing and distorted “—he. Can’t. Fucking. Save.Anyone.” He claws through the first meaty layer of her neck, leaving blood to spew around the ivory cartilage dangling from her slashed throat.
Horrified screams rip from my lungs, the sounds unrecognizable as I watch a fountain of scarlet spit from her shredded cavity. Courtney wrenches open her mouth to scream too but nothing comes out, only a choked gasp fleeing her breathless lips. And where her blood makes its final splash are on the floors of the red room, I take notice. I watch the way her fluids mix in with stale flesh, and the nauseating chunks of human remains. Her fresh blood swims toward me, an arterial surf of gushing, bubbly red.
Her body flails forward, a lifeless plunge with eyes as glassy and vacant as a doll’s. Courtney. My best friend. The onlyperson I can ever truly count on, slumps forward, landing at a contorted angle with her immovable limbs sprawled to the sides. Blood continues to spill from her gaping neck, finding home at the soles of my shoes.
This isn’t happening. This isn’t fucking happening.
Tears sting my eyes, blurring the disgusting red walls around me. She doesn’t move. No, she doesn’t even claw at the floor for purchase. Courtney simply lays there, her head cocked to one disturbing side while her arms and legs remain stuck at an impossible angle. She’s gone. My friend. My best fucking friend is dead, and what’s left of her is painting the ground at my feet. More tears make their escape. Tears and an undeniable sensation of rage.
“No!” I scream, and rush forward, brandishing the arrow hidden in my fingertips.The heart.I have to strike him in his heart. Raising my arm high, I take aim, ready to slam the silver pointed tip into Viktor’s large chest.
I close in on him. Arching my clenched hand to the spot I’m certain will put this animal out of its misery. End the horrible things he’s done and still intends to do. Nik can’t save me now. Dimitri can’t either. I have to do the impossible. What Lenny’s book deemed a fool’s errand. I have to kill this werewolf if I want to make it out of the red room alive.
“Ahh,” I scream and slam the arrow forward.
Viktor grabs me by the wrist, the silver edge stopping mere inches from him. I push forward with all of my strength, praying to whatever god will hear me to have this arrow strike true.
No.Viktor raises my hand above my head and lifts me in the air with frightening ease. I kick for solid ground to no avail, dangling at least a foot above the blood-soaked floors. He grins wickedly, even laughs, wafting the rancid stench of death in my face. This is it. The worst-case scenario that played in mymind on repeat the moment I decided to come here. A collage of images, each one ending with my mutilated corpse.
But there’s something I know that Viktor doesn’t. Dimitri was thorough when safeguarding his apartment. He spent the better part of an hour spreading these little flowers at every point of entry. I found it odd, of course. How could something so small help keep me safe?
“It’s poisonous to them,” Dimitri said when crushing the petals in his large fist and scrubbing each windowsill like it was a cleaning solution. His home was werewolf proofed after that, and luckily enough for me, there was more than enough left over to pocket on my way out.
Wolfsbane.
I slam my other palm in his face, dragging the small purple flowers along his forehead. His cheeks. His chin.
Large scorch marks hiss on his skin, the sound reminiscent of a frying pan. A low-guttural howl escapes him, and he drops me to the floor. I nearly lose the arrow in the fall but manage to keep a hold of it and find firm footing.This is it.I raise my hand again, the sharp silver tip shining off the fluorescents.This is for Courtney.I thrust the arrow at him like a spear, giving every ounce of strength I can muster.