Free Spirit: Book Two of The Bound Spirit Series

by H. A. Wills

  The ring is an isolated clearing deeper in the woods that’s nothing more than a glorified circle of dirt surrounded by matted down grass from the numerous spectators throughout the years. Behind me, there are the clear chimes of a large bell-- the announcement that a formal challenge has been issued.

  It doesn’t take long for everyone to gather, and there’s a cascading echo of gasps each time they see who’s in the ring. The beta’s name is Eckert, and standing on the edge of the ring with a mixture of pride and fear on their faces, is his wife and eldest daughter. His two boys are considered too young to attend a formal challenge. I wish I could tell them how much I don’t want to do this. That if things were different, I’d just leave.

  Instead, I do what I’ve had to too many times. Shut away my true self, deaden any sympathy I might have for this man, and prepare for more blood on my hands.

  Eckert methodically removes his clothes, carefully folding them, before handing them over to his wife to hold. Naked, he stands coolly in the center of the ring waiting for the Alpha to officiate. There’s no one on my side. There never is. If I let her, Sam would stand for me, but… it’s better this way. Safer.

  Unlike Eckert, I only remove my jacket and flannel, discarding them without care at the edge of the ring-- signifying that I won’t shift to fight him. This is the greatest insult one wolf can issue, insinuating that their opponent is too weak to be worth their stronger form. It’s also my last and only warning to back down. At this point, it would mean exile for him and his family, but at least they’d all be alive.

  There’s another round of gasps and a blanketed wave of murmurs when I reach the center of the ring. Eckert’s piercing blue eyes blaze with rage taking in my jeans and heavy boots.

  “I wish I could say you’d live long enough to regret this insulting display,” he spits, his wolf already heavy in his voice. “Just further proves that you may be a wolf, but you’re not one of us.”

  It’s a low blow, as much a jab that my mother is human as it is that I’m an outcast, but it bounces off my deadened heart and I only stare back. Unfeeling and uncaring.

  The crowd hushes when the Alpha approaches and makes his way to the only chair in the entire clearing. A rough stone block that’s been chiseled down to make the seat of honor. There’s a harsh tick in his jaw when he sits, but there’s no other sign of his displeasure. On either side of him stands one of the twins. Bayne’s poker face is stronger than Daveth’s, who can’t seem to stop fidgeting.

  Under a hundred years old, the Alpha is still well in his prime, and it shows in how he holds himself. His body is rigid, chin tilted up, even sitting, his presence shows he clearly stands above everyone around him. And seeing his face is like looking into a fun house mirror that’s aged me eighty years. There’s no visible doubt that I’m this monster’s son. Same body. Same eyes. Same hair. Same mouth-- his always bent into an aggressive frown.

  “Eckert Sereda, you’ve issued a formal challenge to my son, Connor Lopez, and he has accepted,” the Alpha shouts, his rumbling voice filling the clearing. “This will be a challenge to the death. If either tries to escape before the challenge has concluded, you will be hunted down by the pack, killed, and eaten. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, my Alpha,” Eckert answers with a thump to his chest.

  I meet the Alpha’s gaze, my hate for the man palpable, and nod. With one word, he could stop this, but he won’t. The bastard feeds off violence.

  His lips press tightly together in distaste at my silence, but he doesn’t comment. “Combatants, face each other and on my word, the challenge will commence.”

  Turning to face Eckert, I rapidly catalogue his weaknesses and evaluate what he’s likely to do. Will he shift or now that I’ve shown I won’t, will his pride keep him in human form? For the sake of his family, I want to make this quick and clean.

  There are already shouts and cheers for the beta, some of simple support, others calling for my demise. It’s white noise to me, but I can see that the crowd is inflating his ego. He widens his stance, arms up in a defensive posture but palms flat.

  I stand with my arms loose at my sides, and my weight braced mostly on my back leg. It telegraphs nothing of my plans, instead I appear bored and uncaring. For some reason, these people have short memories, and never remember that appearance and intent are two different things. That battles are as much mind games as violence.

  He puffs up his chest and growls at my display, and I smirk in reply. He’s just where I want him. Angry and over confident.

  Partial shift, until he realizes his mistake. Kill him before he has a chance to fully shift.

  “Fight!” the Alpha shouts.

  While Eckert’s claws and teeth are still shifting, I do a sharp, lightning-fast, low kick to his left knee. Between the amount of power I put behind it and the steel toe of my boots, the knee shatters instantly. Call it unethical, but I fight to win. To live. I didn’t ask for this, but I will fucking end it.

  He immediately falls into the dirt, screaming when his full weight lands on his knees. I only have moments before his wolf tries to save him. While he’s distracted by the pain, it’s a roundhouse kick to the side of his head. There’s an audible crunch when my boot meets his skull, and blood pours from his face.

  The crowd no longer cheers, shocked as I take down their champion in seconds.

  His teeth and claws are now free, but he’s too disoriented to use them. He tries to roll over, get back on his one good knee, coughing and choking on the blood that now covers his face and drips down his chest.

  My toe catches him under the chin, snapping his head back and knocking him to the ground again. He’s unconscious. I drop to one knee, grab his head between my hands, and with a sharp twist, break his neck... ending his life.

  It took less than five minutes.

  I stand, blood and dirt coating my hands and legs with a grimy red paste, and look at my handiwork in a detached, analytical kind of way. He was probably a capable fighter, but for every other pack member, this ring is about clearing up disputes. Working out aggression. There’s showmanship, because the fight is as much about making the other person think twice about future confrontations as it is about solving the current one.

  They’ve never had to fight for their lives.

  What brings me back to myself is the ear-piercing wails of his wife and daughter, as they rush to the body that used to house their loved one.

  “Papa. Papa, please wake up,” his daughter cries, shaking his shoulder.

  His wife collapses on top of the body, whispering denials in a constant loop.

  I shiver, cold setting in as adrenaline drains from my body, and I take in the crowd. Some are angry. Some are terrified. I’ve won, and they don’t know what to do with themselves.

  Sam stares at me from across the ring, tears dripping down her face. Her blue eyes speak volumes. She doesn’t blame me. She never does. But there’s disappointment. Lives lost because I won’t choose pack first. Because I wouldn’t choose her.

  The Alpha barks out orders to the twins to handle the body, the crowd, and begin preparations for a funeral pyre. Burying our dead leaves bodies to be found. Once everyone is moving, he glares at me and makes a jerk of his head to indicate I’m to follow him.

  Sighing, I pick up my flannel and jacket off the ground, not caring that I’m getting blood on them. It may not be my blood now, but soon it will be.

  ~*~

  “Drink it,” the Alpha commands, handing me a shot glass filled with water and granules of white crystals resting on the bottom.

  The entire house has been cleared, the only guards on duty blocking the stairs, and he’s marched me to a familiar room in the back. With tools on the walls and a single chair, it’s obvious what this room is for.

  Standing near the only window in the room, I hold the clear glass to the light. The crystals go from white to black, and the water begins to turn a muddy brown. Silver nitrate.

  My wolf fights against w
hat we’ve been asked to do, but if I don’t, the Alpha will know that he no longer controls me through the bond. After years of being shunned by the pack, of never calling on his power to strengthen me, in addition to the tenuous ties I have to this community means its leader has almost no control over me. At least in a magical sense.

  Resigned, I swallow it quickly, the solution burning everything it touches. I collapse onto the hardwood floor, coughing and choking, blood already starting to drip from my mouth and follow the path of old stains.

  “Think you’re fucking tough!” he shouts with several powerful kicks to my gut in rapid succession. “Think you’re more important than the pack?”

  I don’t answer, because it doesn’t matter. Nothing will stop or alter what happens in this room.

  It feels like acid is coating my insides, and it’s hard to breathe. Gagging, I climb back to my hands and knees. Sweat coats my skin and all of my strength is gone, my limbs shaking trying to brace me.

  “You keep that shit down,” he snarls, grabbing my hair and pulling my head up at an angle so I can see his furious expression. “I lost a wolf today, because you have a hard-on for a fucking witch. You’re going to feel this.”

  I cough, and blood splatters his dark green shirt. He looks at me with disgust right before slamming my head against the wall.

  Black dots dance around the edges of my vision, and I just lie there. There’s a high pitched whine. I can’t tell if it’s from outside or inside my own head, and it feels like the trees that hold this house up are turning in fast, nauseating circles.

  My wolf is quiet, too sick and weak to help me. Probably better this way. I don’t know if I could stop the shift, and attacking the Alpha now would ruin everything.

  “Get up!” he growls, while pulling a whip from the wall. A whip that I know from personal experience has silver at the tip. “On your knees!”

  With a groan, I roll back over, but I’m too weak to hold myself up and fall on my face.

  He again grabs me by the hair, and with frustrated grunts, attempts to drag me toward the chair bolted to the ground. I scramble to try and help, my scalp burning as he rips chunks of hair from my head.

  Wheezing, I pitch myself up onto my knees while my upper half collapses on the seat of the chair, my naked back exposed to the Alpha. Within moments there’s the white hot pain of whip meeting flesh.

  “Stubborn piece of shit,” he mutters, then cracks the whip over my back again. “Do your friends know how easily you can end someone’s life? Huh?”

  With weak fingers, I grip the sides of the chair and do my best to swallow my gasp of pain as it hits me again. My throat already feels like I’ve swallowed fire-- each sound, cough, and labored breath its own brand of torment.

  “Your little witch must be one sweet piece of ass. Does she know that you're capable of breaking a man's neck with your bare hands?” he goads then releases an ugly laugh. “I bet she doesn’t. Think she’ll still want you when she finds out?”

  I remain silent, but for once in a long time, his baiting finds its mark. Beyond the physical pain, it feels like he’s digging his claws straight into my heart. Callie doesn’t know, and after what she’s been through, she can’t find out. I know I’m a monster. I have too much blood on my hands to be anything else. But I’m a monster that needs her. As much as I resist, I don’t know what I’ll become if she throws me away.

  No hay mal que dure cien años ni cuerpo que lo resista. Todo estará bien, mijo, my mother’s voice whispers in my ear. Words of comfort she’d murmur to me after the bastard beat her. This isn’t forever.

  My vision blurs, and watery blood drops off the end of my nose into the pool of saliva and blood on the chair’s seat. I feel tired and empty. Only knowing I’m alive because it hurts too much everywhere for me to be dead.

  “Got nothing to say?” the Alpha taunts, letting the silver tipped whip drag along my exposed flesh, welts forming as it traces my skin.

  He huffs, and his boots are muffled thumps as he paces back and forth behind me.

  “Do you know why I put up with your insubordinate bullshit?” he asks, but I know it’s because he likes the sound of his own voice, not because he wants an actual answer. “Three fucking sons, and it’s the ‘spic whore that gives me my successor. Losing my Grace made me soft on the boys, I think. Look too much like their mother.”

  Am I supposed to feel pity? I’d snort if I wasn’t having so much trouble just trying to breathe.

  The air is a humid blanket filled with the scent of blood, sweat, and mutilated flesh, as he rambles on some more about his dead wife-- how everything would’ve been different had she lived. Any time I look like I’m about to pass out, he whips me again. With each hit, I can’t help but groan with pain, which leads to more choking and coughing up blood.

  “When you get to my age, a decade is like a blip. Your little rebellion? Nothing but a blip,” he informs me, the whip’s tip resting against my lower back, but I barely feel it now. “In a year, all your friends will be gone, and you’ll still be here-- stuck with the pack you fought so hard against.” He squats down beside me, careful not to kneel in any of the blood, then casually, like he’s wondering out loud, says, “Hell, maybe it won’t even take that long. Accidents do happen. Your little human friend figured that out the hard way.”

  I blink hard against all the shit in my eyes, because I have to see his face. I have to know. Is he saying he killed Felix?

  His face gives nothing away, and I don’t know if I’m angry or disappointed. All my emotions seem to be locked behind a thick glass wall of blood splattered pain. My lips twist into a snarl, but my growl is pathetic even to my own ears-- more of a wounded, gurgling sound than true menace.

  He laughs mockingly. “Not so tough now. Remember that the next time you come fucking strolling through my land stinking of witch.”

  Standing back up, he rolls the whip back up and hangs it on the wall, my blood still dripping from it. He gives me one more hard kick, knocking me off the chair, then walks out of the room not caring about the red trail of boot prints he’s leaving.

  The burning in my gut hasn’t stopped, and what’s left of my mind not drowning in pain starts to panic. Am I dying? After everything, is this how it ends? No! No, damn it. Not now. Callie!

  Now that he’s gone, I gag and heave trying to get this shit out of me. Mentally, I reach for my wolf, desperate for anything that will keep me alive, but he’s as broken as I am. I lie there panting, willing my heart to keep beating and my lungs to keep breathing, but no matter how hard I try, the world grows dark around me.

  ∞∞∞

  I’m jarred awake from the loud scrape of the window opening followed by Sam exclaiming, “Jesus fucking Christ, what did he do to you?”

  I don’t know how long I’ve been out, only that the smell of vomit has joined the hellish collection of scents and between the swelling and crusted blood, I can’t open my eyes.

  “Why haven’t you shifted yet?” she whispers way too loudly, while she climbs through the window.

  At least the thumps of her feet landing inside the room are quiet.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her to go. That it’s not safe. But when I open my mouth to speak, nothing but a painful wheeze passes my lips.

  “Holy shit, your mouth and tongue are black!”

  I release a breathy laugh, in my mind hearing Callie grumbling sarcastically, She’s real astute! Can’t get anything past her.

  “Shit,” she huffs, then she starts wiping at my face. I do my best not to wince. “This is real bad. We have to get you out of here. Can you shift? Like at all? Even a partial shift would help.”

  I shrug… I think. Hard to tell.

  “Well, try, while I text D to meet us at the gates, because you need get the fuck out of here. Roadkill looks healthier than you do right now,” she instructs, dropping the soft fabric she was using to clean me on top of my face-- her attempts at humor only a thin covering for her obv
ious concern.

  Grunting that I heard her, I slowly reach up for the cloth, my arm shaking, and finish working on my left eye enough that I can finally open it. Sam is squatted in front of me, her thumbs rapidly moving as she texts. Her dark, pixie short hair is a wild mess, swirls sticking up on end, like she gripped it with both hands and pulled straight up. She’s also dressed in nothing but a bra and jeans. The cloth in my hand is her t-shirt.

  I roll onto my back, which is a real fucking bad idea, as white hot pain shoots through me and I nearly black out. My cry of pain feels like fire shooting through my throat. I try to roll back over, but I’m too weak.

  Have to shift. Need to shift.

  Mentally, I reach for my wolf, extending imaginary fingers until just on their tips, I can feel the subtle brush of soft fur. I need you. Please. Save us.

  Sick and battered, he limps toward me pressing his muzzle against my hand. Together we concentrate on my mouth and throat, shifting enough to heal, before our energy fades and they return to human form.

  “Sam,” I gasp, finally able to speak. “Alpha?”

  “He’s at the funeral. He’ll be gone for at least a couple of hours,” she answers, well versed in my shorthand. “Your idiot brothers are with him.”

  I nod, staring up at the wood ceiling. The whole house is nothing but wood. I fucking hate this place.

  “Doesn’t mean we should sit here waiting,” she grunts, standing up and pocketing her phone. “K & D will be here soon, and I want us at that gate before they get here. Last thing we need is some random wolf spotting them. With all this shit, who fucking knows what they’ll do?”

  Counting my breaths, I gather my strength, hurl myself back over, and up onto my hands and knees. The world sways underneath me, and I end up pitching over face first onto the floor with my ass up in the air.

  “Nice view, but not really helpful,” Sam teases, tucking her arms underneath me, and with her help, I sit up. “Okay, I’m going to need you to walk or crawl out to the balcony. I got it from there.”