Strength of an Assassin(5)

By: Stormy Glenn

No one appeared.

That was strange.

I always fought three opponents. I always killed three opponents. Where was the third man I was supposed to kill? I wanted to get it over and done with so I could go back to my cell. I hated having all the people watching me. I hated being their entertainment.

If I could, I’d kill them all.

After determining no one was coming out of the gate—at least not immediately—I turned my attention to the other two men. The crowd was not going to be pleased that this would be so easy for me.

Like I gave a fuck.

I tilted my head back and roared loud enough to shake the rafters. I was angry, enraged, and downright pissed off. The haze that had started with the darts was quickly spreading until I didn’t care that the men I faced were probably not there of their own free will.

I just wanted to kill.

I wanted to feel their blood on my hands. I wanted to hear their screams as I ripped them apart, and then their last breaths as they left this world.

I snarled at the two men, watching as they started moving toward me from different directions. They might not have met before now or had the chance to talk to me, but it was obvious that they realized I was the greater threat. A smart man would try and team up with his opponent to take me out first.

I wondered how smart these guys were.

My chest heaved as I breathed, my muscles bunching. The extra doses of adrenaline I’d been shot up with surged through my system, taking away my ability to think. Fear and excitement permeated the air, saturating it until I couldn’t smell anything else.

I heard the crowd above me go wild as the two men leapt at me. The pain that ripped through my body as their razor sharp claws sank deep into my flesh only heightened my need for blood.

And not my own.

I roared again and swung. Elation filled me when my claws connected and my hand came away bloody and wet. I swiped out at the nearest shifter again, watching as large scratches appeared across his face. It was a wound he wouldn’t be healing from.

I grunted when something hit me from behind. I snarled as I slowly turned. How the man had gotten his hands on a wooden club I would never know, but he was going to wish he had never picked it up. I ripped the club out of the man’s hand and tossed it away. I didn’t need weapons to kill.

I was a weapon.

The crowd roared as I picked the man up and threw him across the pit. He hit the wall hard before falling to the floor. I was on him before he could get up, ripping out his throat. Blood splattered my skin, drenching me in death.

I fisted my hands, tossed my head back, and roared my victory.

Panting heavily, I gazed up at the shouting people. Their screams and shouts fed the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I had been victorious.

I had won.

I had killed the enemy.

The last gate rose.

I turned and stared, lifting my nose into the air to sniff. Blood and sweat, fear and excitement, arousal, all of it melded together until I could smell nothing else. When a small figure stumbled out of the opening and fell to the ground, I grinned.

My third kill.

I moved, my claws extending to their full point. I grabbed the small man by his sandy-blond hair and yanked his head back, raising my arm in the air, at the ready to rip out his throat.

Brown eyes as dark as chocolate blinked up at me, fear making them almost liquid. I dropped my hand a bit as I tried to remember why I wanted to kill this delicate creature. I knew there was a reason, but…

I glanced up when the noise around me grew louder. I frowned at the violent uproar, my eyebrows drawing together. They wanted his death. They wanted more blood. I could see money passing hands as the bets grew larger.

I raised my hand again.

Brown. Liquid brown. Sweet, milky.


My frown deepened. I needed to…I needed to…there was something…I wrinkled my nose and then shook my head, some of the red haze falling away.


What was I supposed to be doing?


One word.



I glanced at the crowd again. I could see the guards readying their dart guns. I knew if I didn’t perform, they would shoot me with more of their horrible drugs. Maybe one of these days they would actually shoot me with real bullets.

I grunted when one of the darts hit me in the shoulder and another dose of adrenaline shot through me. I snarled at the guard who had shot me. As far away as he was, I still saw him gulp.


But it had the desired effect. The haze that had been clearing from my head thickened as adrenaline began pumping through my veins once again. I tightened my grip on the fistful of hair in my hand as I stared down at my prey one more time.

Brown eyes.

Why was that important?

Angered, I yanked the man up and bit into his throat, intent on ripping it out. Hot, sweet blood rushed into my mouth, stilling my movements. The urge to kill was still there, but I no longer wanted to destroy the man in my arms.

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