Page 12 of Monstrous Serpent

His body hits the ground hard, but he twists fast and drives his fist into the inside of my leg near the knee.

Pain shoots up my leg, knee buckling. “Fuck.”

He slips out of the hoodie and gets loose. For two seconds. Then Atlas runs past me.

Jenkins grabs a nearby branch and swings, cracking Atlas across the head. “Get fucked.”

Atlas catches the branch mid-arc on the second swing, wrenches it free, then whips it into the dark. “You little fucking shit.”

They collide. Fists, elbows, grappling. My best friend loves fighting Jenkins on the ice. They both push each other’s buttons. Also, the little Titan doesn’t back down.

Ever.

He keeps getting back up. Just like he is now.

I shake out my leg just as Jenkins punches Atlas in the throat.

Atlas doubles over, hacking, one hand on his throat.

My fists clench, fingernails biting into my palms, molars grinding so hard they might break. “You’re dead.”

Jenkins sprints away, weaving between trunks. I could catch him in four seconds. Pin him face down in the dirt, then snap his fucking neck.

But Atlas comes first.

Always.

I crouch next to him, gripping the back of his neck. I tilt his head so I can see his eyes through the mask. “You good?”

“Get—” He coughs, sucking air through his teeth. “—that motherfucker.”

I nod, stand, then take off.

Jenkins might have a head start, but he’s loud in the brush. Easy to follow. I close the last few feet and drive into him from behind. My arms lock around his torso as I take him down. His chest slams into the dirt hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

He bucks, elbows swinging, heels kicking back into my shins. “Get the fuck off me! Get. Off.”

I flip him onto his back, straddle his thighs, then drop my weight to pin him. I lean forward and wrap my hand around his throat, squeezing hard.

My best friend.

My. Fucking. Best. Friend.

This piece of shit throat-punched him.

Jenkins’s nails tear into my wrist, then he punches my forearm, hips bucking, trying to throw me off. “Fuck you—fucking—get off—”

My fingers dig deeper.

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Then he claws at my fingers, trying to remove them, but it does no good. So, he bucks again.

My eyes widen the slightest bit.

What the fuck?

Jenkins bucks harder this time.

I grunt, my grip loosening.