**Be warned, this chapter contains some graphic violence, read at your own discretion**
A First
I tried not to think about Angelo as I approached the castle. With so much at stake, I couldn't afford the distraction. I should have known better. He was never far from my mind, and with the danger he was putting himself in, it was impossible not to dwell.
What could be happening to him right now? He had to be close to the guardhouse, but what would he face when he arrived? Would they heed his warning and sound the alarm, or would they be suspicious of his claims and doom the entire castle? Worse yet, would the invading Blood Fangs find Angelo alone in the woods on his way, and put an end to all hope of rallying the guards for some kind of defense?
No, I thought, if Angelo was dead already, I would know it.
My own safety was the last thing I thought of. Much of the situation felt too surreal for that. Blood Fangs inside the castle? It was absurd. Under any other circumstance it would have been folly on their part, except we had been foolish enough to leave ourselves vulnerable. It was just for one day, as my father had said, but that would be plenty of time.
I crept in through the side door, pausing only to peek inside the kitchen. My stomach plummeted as I found it empty of people, though there were still pans and utensils scattered across the countertops. I didn't allow myself to linger.
Halfway to the stairs, I stumbled upon my first unfamiliar man, freezing to my spot in a mix of shock and fear. It was only then that the reality of the situation seemed to sink in with blood chilling clarity. He wore a dark uniform, though it was not any that I recognized, and blood dripped from the axe in his hand to land in tiny crimson puddles on the stone floor.
I had no weapon. I should have taken a knife from the kitchen, but it was too late to think of that now.
He twirled the axe menacingly, a twisted smile growing on his face, sending red droplets flying around the corridor to splatter against the paintings on the wall. A speck hit my cheek, still warm.
There was no time to think of how I had never had an honest fight before, not against someone who didn't work for my family. The man's smile was triumphant as he took in my still form, staring up at him with wide eyes. It was clear by the way he didn't study me any closer, that he was not looking to take any hostages. His orders were to kill anyone he came across.
He was nearly upon me before I snapped from my daze and my body moved as if on instinct. Years of training kicked in, and I ducked out of range of his first swing. He grunted as the blade sliced through the air where I had been only moments before. I evaded his second and third attempts just as easily, the two of us falling into the rhythm of our dangerous dance. I tried to recall every bit of advice Matteo had ever given me. Steady breaths, tight form, patience. Wait for an opening...
He didn't make me wait long. With each failed attempt, he became more frustrated and his attacks grew more sloppy. I skirted away from a swing, he leaned his body too far forward, likely hoping the extra inches would be all he needed to put an end to our little game. I took advantage of his mistake.
One hand found the shaft of the axe, pulling it forward to knock him off balance. The other hand broke his hold, leaving me standing above his sprawled form, axe in hand.
My blow struck flesh before I even had a chance to process what I was doing.
His head toppled to the floor, followed immediately by his body. I could only stare at the carnage. Did I really do that?
Then the adrenaline faded, and I crumpled to the stone ground inches from the growing puddle of blood. Bile rose in my throat, and I vomited what little there was in my stomach onto the floor beside my victim.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the scene, but the images were seared into my eyes. My first kill. There was no going back from it.
It took a moment to register the strange sound over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. When I noticed it, I sat straight up in surprise. Floating in from an open window down the corridor was the ringing of the alarm bells.
Angelo. By some miracle, he had managed to accomplish his impossible task.
I lifted myself from the ground. If there were already enemies within the castle, then sounding the alarm could be too little, too late. Yet still, it provided me with the boost of hope that I needed to continue on with my own mission.
I looked down at the dead Blood Fang on the ground. It had been brutal, a memory I would likely carry with me for the rest of my life, the sound of the blade sticking soft flesh, the feel of it. But I also remembered the blood that had already adorned the blade when he had appeared. He would have done the same to me, given half a chance. The thought stripped me of regret.
Renewed in my resolve, I stooped to wipe the blood still dripping from the blade onto the fabric of the man's dark uniform. With one last glance backward, I took off down the corridor at a jog, searching for signs of more intruders. My first priority was to find my mother and brother, but I wouldn't hesitate to fight any Blood Fang that had the misfortune of crossing my path. Not again.
I made it to the foot of the stairs before I caught whimpers coming from the hall to the right, turning sharply toward the sound.
At the doorway my steps faltered once more despite my resolve. There were two men there, both in that same strange black uniform with red detailing that the first man had worn. They were standing over a mangled form in what I could barely recognize as a maids uniform. My vision went red with rage, then sharpened as I lost control. My heightened hearing was met with the sound of two heartbeats, no more. I swore under my breath.
I didn't have time for the distraction, any moment one of them could find their way to wherever my mother was hiding, but I couldn't leave the two of them free to wreak more havoc. I had already been too late to save at least one person today, I wouldn't leave another to share her fate. Later, there might be time to learn her name, to mourn the life that I might have been able to save if I had only been stronger, faster. If I had maintained a better hold on my emotions. If I hadn't let the death of a Blood Fang bring me to my knees. For now, all I could do was avenge her.
They spun and noticed me then, either by the sound of my whispered voice or from the sheer force of my alpha blood filling the room. That very blood would act as a homing beacon, drawing the attention of any shifter in proximity, but I didn't care.
This time I was the one to charge forward, not wasting another moment. The man earlier had been clumsy, he had underestimated my skill and it had cost him his life. From the gleam in their eyes, I knew that they would do the same.
One was closer by several feet, a wiry man with copper hair and dark eyes. I swung at him first, a testing blow that he blocked with the shortsword in his grip. I twisted the axe, making it harder for him to free his blade and spun on my heel, bringing my elbow up to connect with his jaw. He staggered back, and I swung again. At the last second, he pulled back from me, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid my blow entirely. What would have sent his head tumbling to the floor only sliced into his neck, but the effect was enough to incapacitate him for the moment. He fell to his knees, clutching at his throat, blood bubbling from his mouth as he choked.
As he collapsed to the ground unconscious, I spun again, bringing my axe up to parry the blow of his companion. The second man was shorter than the first, but made up for the difference with the mass of his stocky build. I withdrew a few steps, taking the time to look him over. His face was contorted in rage at his fallen comrade.
I found it in me to shoot him my signature smirk, twirling the axe in my hand much the same way the Blood Fang had taunted me earlier. He roared in response, closing the distance between us to swing his axe at me. I blocked it, gritting my teeth at the force and shoving him away from me. In his anger he plowed on, repeating his actions another few times to the same result. On his last attempt I leapt to the side, leaving his axe to cut through the empty air. I swung mine down hard, ignoring the stomach churning crunch as it connected with his wrist, severing it from his arm. His weapon clattered to the stone with a jarring clamor. The pained scream that tore from his throat hardly had time to form before it was cut short as I embedded my axe in the side of his head. He fell to the floor beside his copper haired companion.
This time, the carnage didn't affect me as it had before, as if a fog of indifference had settled over my mind. I didn't bother trying to remove my axe from my opponent's skull. Instead, I stooped to grab his from the ground where it lay beside the severed hand. Then my gaze fell on the unconscious man beside him, steeling myself for what would come next.
I couldn't leave him as he was. Although he could die on his own, he also could recover. It all depended on how much strain he had put his body through prior to our fight, but I couldn't sit around to check for signs of recovery. There was nothing around to restrain him with, and no time to search for it. I pressed my eyes shut, and swung the axe downward, quickly ending the need for speculation.
I nearly walked away, but the gleam of his sword caught my eye. I scooped it up to hold in my free hand. My arm rose to wipe the loose hair and sweat from my forehead, smearing a warm, sticky substance there. I didn't even know whose blood it was.
As I bolted up the stairs as fast as I could, by some miracle, no more Blood Fangs crossed my path. When I stepped foot, at last, in the royal wing of the castle, there was no need to search. Just down the hall, the nursery door was wide open, indistinguishable sounds emanating from within.
At the door, I glimpsed the black uniform shot through with red as a man crouched low, preparing to strike, his back to me. My axe struck before he had a chance. A flash of bloody steel, the muted thud of a body hitting the carpet, then a woman screamed before the sound cut off, as sudden as it had started. Directly in front of me were two guards. Far behind them, huddled against the wall in the corner of the room, crouched Lady Ivaldi and Allegra, between them my mother clutched the young prince to her chest, grey eyes wide.
Franco's voice was the first to break the shocked silence, "About time you arrived."
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