Pretty Boy: The Lost Chapters

Brad's Survival Arc: Part 1

It was enough to cause bodily harm—but not enough to kill anyone.

Marshall ignored his injury, along with a burning pain stemming from it, to utilize his hidden ability by raising his free hand. A bright, scorching fireball was tossed at his assailant, successfully hitting her square in the stomach. 

She staggered backward in panic. A frightened scream was belted out for less than a second before she was decapitated by Paul.

Any remaining opponents straggling along the battlefield were neutralized as well, thanks to several vines shooting from Marshall's palm to forcefully hold them in place so his allies could do what they needed to do.

As soon as the coast was clear, he slumped against the ground with a strained whimper.

Part of him wanted to clutch at his injury in an attempt to keep it from leaking. Another part of him was too afraid to put any form of pressure against the wound because he was already experiencing an agonizing amount of pain. Having a chunk taken out of his abdomen had already worked to make tears form, teeth clench, and limbs tremble.  He couldn't, or didn't want to, imagine how much worse things could get if he decided to care for himself in any facet.

Brad wasn't faring too well either.

Since they were at an angle when being struck, he ended up getting a larger, more devastating injury. His was painful enough to not allow for any type of movement whatsoever. He could only lie down in a loose fetal position with his arms wrapped around his torso to keep his laceration from rubbing against grass blades.

How terrifying—all it took was a single moment to alter the path of their fortunate luck. 

Victoria's army, along with herself, were all dead and could no longer pose a threat to any more innocent lives. In concurrence with that, however, two friends were horribly injured while fulfilling self imposed roles of selfless protectors.

Courtesy of a brief distraction which gave their enemy a cheap opening.

Regardless, despite events turning sour at such a fast rate, everything was over. There were other more pressing concerns to worry about.

"Brad-"

"Leah, don't!"

All eyes darted toward Edward's unexpected voice. His shout was the only warning given before one last vampire from Victoria's army slipped his arms around Leah's neck to kill her. The attack was interrupted by Jacob running forward with a harsh tackle. A brief tumble ended with him caught in a similar bind. He wasn't violent enough when it came to thrashing himself out of a strong grip. A demented gesture led to him having his ribs crushed without remorse.

Paul ran forward to assist. 

But his mind was elsewhere—rampant thoughts probably focused on his wounded imprint—and his movements were sloppy.

The vampire saw the opportunity to attack by planting a vicious bite into the wolf's neck.

High pitched whimpers morphed into bloodcurdling screams.

"No. No! PAUL!"

Marshall pushed himself onto his knees to get up. Quiet groans to his right made him pause.

Fuck- which situation took precedence over the other? Was it Brad with his flesh torn open from his upper ribs to his hip? Or was it Paul who had venom now coursing through his veins? Was one more at risk than the other?

Was Marshall going to have to make a choice?

If so, who was he supposed to choose?

Wait, wait, what was he talking about? He didn't have to choose. He- he could save them both. He was strong enough. He had to be. He could-