Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF BLOOD
From the shadows of a rocky outcrop overlooking the gorge, a cold, metallic click echoed through the quiet aftermath of the battle.
Thwip.
A heavy, crossbow bolt—forged entirely of glowing, toxic silver—cut through the air with deadly precision, aimed straight at Alonzo’s unprotected back.
Gertrude saw it first.
Instinct, sharper and faster than any thought of self-preservation, took over. She threw herself directly into the path of the bolt, shoving Alonzo hard to the side.
Shatter.
The silver bolt struck Gertrude squarely in the shoulder.
A sharp, searing agony ripped through her body, so intense it felt as though liquid fire were pouring directly into her veins. She let out a choked gasp, her knees buckling beneath her as she collapsed onto the snow-covered ground.
“GERTRUDE!”
Alonzo’s voice broke—a sound of pure, unadulterated terror that tore from the depths of his soul.
He caught her before she hit the snow, pulling her into his arms. When his gaze dropped to her shoulder and saw the smoking, silver-imbued bolt buried deep in her flesh, the golden light in his eyes flared into a terrifying, blinding crimson rage.
Across the gorge, standing on the rocky ledge, Coulter Woods held a smoking heavy crossbow, a manic, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
"The King's weakness!" Coulter screamed into the freezing wind. "Now you know what it feels like to bleed!"
Alonzo didn't chase him. He couldn't. He couldn't move an inch away from Gertrude, whose breathing was already growing shallow, her lips turning pale as the toxic silver began to sap her strength.
"Hold on," Alonzo choked out, his massive hands trembling—the first time in his life the Alpha King had ever shaken. He pressed his palms against her wound, trying desperately to stem the bleeding, but the silver burned his own skin away with painful hisses. "Stay with me, Gertrude. Look at me!"
"You... you really are..." Gertrude managed a faint, agonizingly weak smile, her eyelids fluttering. "...terrible at taking advice..."
Alonzo’s jaw clenched, a tear of pure anguish cutting a clean path through the soot on his scarred cheek. He pulled her flush against his chest, stood up with effortless, terrifying strength, and roared an order that echoed across the entire mountain range.
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"VANE! SECURE THE RIDGE! BRING EVERY HEALER AND ALCHEMIST TO THE FORTRESS IMMEDIATELY!"
Without looking back at the burning cabin, the Alpha King carried the human healer down the mountain toward the royal stronghold, running faster than the wind, desperate to outrun death itself.
