Go Rogue

CHAPTER 8: A WEAPON THAT CAN KILL AN IMMORTAL

-ZOYA-

I try to shove him away, but Ragnar holds me in place, showing me that apart from being immortal, he could also be a f*****g wall.

His hand slides down to my waist, holding me firmly against him.

All the bravado I felt a few moments ago dissipates into thin air. No doubt, when he tilts my chin, forcing me to look into his hypnotizing gold eyes, he sees the fear in mine.

"Your ideas of rebellion have room for questioning." He scoffs, taking off a pin from my hair. Then another, until all the pins are gone from my hair and scattered on the ground and my hair is falling down my bare shoulders.

"Move, Zoya," I think. "kick this mother fucker in the shin..." But my stomach was doing some weird flipping, and my legs were as stiff as a stubborn piece of clay.

"Rule number one," the hand on my waist moves up to my zipper. "Gear for battle. Not pretty black gowns."

That's when I move, the shock at what he's about to do spurring me into motion. I push Ragnar away with surprising strength. I stumbling back, the tension crackling between us like the fire that burned in the chimney.

I glare at him. he raises an eyebrow in mock amusement.

"You want to keep me locked up in your brooding old mansion? Fine! But don't expect me to be at your beck and call, putting my life on the line for your mission and antics." I spit.

"I see. Now you're a sulking little 5-year-old."

I stare back at him, stung. 5-year-old. A lot of people's lives crumble at five years old. The thought flashes across my mind before I can stop it.

Brief memories surface. I block them out, stepping back from Ragnar, wondering if he could read my thoughts.

"It would surprise you, the emotions a 5-year-old can feel."

Ragnar regards me, his expression unreadable. I hate the way his eyes go over my small frame, making me feel so seen.

I knew the black gown was a bad idea.

Finally, he reaches into his coat and pulls out a small handset. "Fight for me tonight, Zoya. Then you can call your alpha boyfriend and whoever you wish."

I look between him and the phone. I need it... He knows I need it. To get in touch with anyone from when my life was still normal, to explain everything to Xander and Scar...

And he's using it to his advantage.

My shoulders shake with fury this time.

I grab the history book from the table. I've been reading it, been learning about the man who saved me then held me hostage, about why he even needed me and why he's recruiting an army when he's basically immortal.

"You're just a weak Lycan who can't even fight his own battles!" I shove the book to his chest before storming into the bathroom, slamming the door shut and waiting for him to go away.

———

Half an hour later, I stand in a foreign clearing that serves as a border between two villages, Ragnar beside me, a faint glow coming from his silver scythe while he blended in with the darkness. "Fitting," I mutter, hatred still flowing through my veins instead of blood.

I wrap the garrotte wire tighter across my hands, getting into stance as my eyes follow a subtle movement from the bushes.

The signal is a howl from Ryker. Ragnar has us all briefed.

My hands are covered in a pair of knuckle dusters. I had my leather jacket over my gear, which was actually a crop top and slick black pants that allowed me to move around, a utility belt with a series of knives strapped to it, and military boots.

A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes.

I spring into motion immediately, all my training kicking in. I knock the first one down just before he shifts into his wolf, wrapping the wire around his neck and pulling hard.

Suddenly, the clearing is a battlefield. Weapons clash against weapon, rogues fall down. I roll to the side, avoiding the snapping of fangs as a wolf lands where I stood a second ago.

From the corner of my eye, I see Ragnar watching it all from the sidelines, like a messenger of death himself.

A rogue tries to flee. Ragnar's scythe spins out of his hand, decapitating him, but he doesn't kill him, I notice, just as someone knocks me down and just like that, I'm carried into the heat of the battle again.

Ryker, on the other hand, blurs between wolf and human, leaving dead men in his wake till the last of the rogues stands.

"Who sent you?" Ryker asks.

I wobble on my feet, completely exhausted but manage to keep the stray wolf firmly in a chokehold.

He lets out a cruel laughter, like his teammates dead around him didn't mean anything.

"You fight a losing battle. We have a weapon that can kill an immortal." He throws his head back, letting out a hysterical laugh. "You fight a losing battle, mortals!"

Ryker's hand extends into a claw, which he plunges into the man's side.

I let go of him, watching the last of the rogues crumble to the floor.

"They drive me f*****g mad," Ryker mutters, walking away, barking out orders to Ragnar's minions.

I turn away from the battle scene, feeling sick. A weapon that could kill an immortal? I shake my head. That had to be the random rambles of a dying man.

The look on Ragnar's face, however, when I went back to him was cold and calculating, his lips set in a frown, eyes locked on where the last rogue had fallen.

He doesn't even bother to retrieve his scythe, which is impaled in a tree bark a few feet away.

"What did he mean by weapon that can kill an immortal?" I ask.

Ragnar tears his eyes away from the spot to look at me. "I don't know," he says simply. Too simply, in a way that feels like him dismissing me.

He starts walking deeper into the woods.

I hesitate, then follow after him, determined to get answers.

"Why didn't you fight?" I ask, catching up with him.

"I did." His reply is curt. He quickens his pace, covering at least five inches with each step, making it harder to keep pace beside him.

I grit my teeth, breaking into a jog.

His narrowed brows and tight frown tell me that he's in a bad mood.

I should stay away; that was the rational thing to do. But instead, I still cling like a leech, bombarding him with more questions.

"I fought well. I deserve to at least know why or who we're fighting. You don't expect me to just follow around blindly and...."

Ragnar spins to face me, taking a step forward. he holds up the small phone shutting me up.

"Five minutes. That's all you get."