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Mark howls in pain and rage, his own shift overtaking him. But he's slower, less practiced. I use that to my advantage. His clothes rip and fall away as his body contorts, leaving him as naked as I am beneath his dark fur.
As Sarah scrambles away, I position myself between her and Mark. His wolf form is smaller than mine, darker, with eyes that glow with malice.
We circle each other, growls rumbling in our chests. The room feels too small, the air thick with the scent of blood and fury.
Mark makes the first move, lunging for my throat. I sidestep, raking my claws down his flank. He yelps but doesn't back down, snapping at my legs.
We're a whirlwind of teeth and claws, crashing into furniture, leaving destruction in our wake. Part of me is aware of Sarah, pressed against the far wall, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and awe. But I can't focus on her now. One moment of distraction could be fatal.
Mark fights dirty, going for low blows and cheap shots. But I have something he doesn't – something worth fighting for. With every attack, every defense, I think of Sarah. My mate. The one I'm meant to protect.
A particularly vicious bite to my shoulder makes me snarl in pain. But even as blood matts my fur, I feel a surge of renewed strength. I will not let him win. I will not let him hurt Sarah ever again.
With a roar that shakes the very walls, I throw myself at Mark, my jaws aiming for his throat.
My teeth sink into Mark's throat, not deep enough to kill, but enough to assert dominance. He thrashes wildly, claws raking across my muzzle, but I hold firm. I can feel his pulse racing beneath my jaws, smell the fear that's finally overtaken his rage.
For a moment, time stands still. My wolf howls in triumph, urging me to end it, to eliminate the threat to our mate once and for all. But the human part of me, the part that remembers Sarah's gentle nature, her aversion to violence, holds back.
With a growl that reverberates through both our bodies, I fling Mark across the room. He hits the wall with a sickening thud, slumping to the floor in a heap of dark fur.
I stand over him, hackles raised, teeth bared. The message is clear: Stay down.
For a tense moment, I wait, ready to resume the fight if necessary. But Mark doesn't move. His form shimmers, the shift taking him back to his human shape. He lies there, battered and bloody, his eyes wide with defeat and fear.
Only then do I allow myself to turn to Sarah.
She's still pressed against the wall, her face pale, eyes wide. The scent of her fear hits me anew, and I realize with a pang that some of that fear might be directed at me. In my wolf form, I must look as terrifying to her as Mark did.
Slowly, carefully, I begin my own shift back. Bones crack and realign, fur recedes, until I'm kneeling on the floor, naked and panting. The pain of my wounds, dulled by adrenaline in wolf form, now hits me full force. But none of that matters. Only Sarah matters.
"Sarah," I rasp, my voice hoarse. "Are you okay?"
For a heartbeat, she doesn't move, doesn't speak. Then, with a choked sob, she rushes forward, falling to her knees beside me. Her hands hover over my injuries, not quite touching, as if afraid to cause more pain.
"Lucas," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "Oh God, Lucas. You're hurt."
I catch her hands in mine, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'm fine," I assure her, even as I wince from the movement. "Are you hurt? Did he—"
She shakes her head, cutting me off. "I'm okay. You... you saved me."
The relief in her voice is palpable, but I can still smell the lingering fear on her. Gently, I cup her face in my hands, meeting her gaze. "Sarah, I'm so sorry you had to see that. I never wanted—"
"Shh," she interrupts, pressing her forehead to mine. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You protected me. You kept me safe."
I nod, relief washing over me at her words. But our moment of peace is short-lived as a groan from across the room reminds us we're not alone.
Mark stirs, struggling to sit up. His eyes, still glowing with remnants of his wolf, dart between Sarah and me, a mixture of fear and hatred in his gaze.
I stand, positioning myself slightly in front of Sarah, my body tense and ready for any sudden moves. "Get the hell out of here, Mark," I growl, reaching down to grab his torn pants from the floor. I throw them at him, the fabric hitting his chest with a dull thud. "And don't ever come near Sarah again."
Mark fumbles with the pants, his movements sluggish from the beating he took. But before he can respond, Sarah steps out from behind me.
"Wait," she says, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. She moves forward, stopping just out of Mark's reach. I want to pull her back, to shield her, but I force myself to stay still. This is her moment.
Sarah looks down at Mark, her eyes hard. "I have something to say to you, Mark."
She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. "You don't own me. You never did, and you never will. I'm not yours to control or to hurt. I'm my own person, and I choose Lucas. I choose happiness. I choose freedom from your abuse and manipulation."
