NOVPUB
Chapter 35: The cot was bare
"What?"
Kael and Rhea snapped in sync, their voices colliding harsh in the stale air of Freya’s room, the empty cot glaring back like a taunt.
Rhea took a step inside—boots grinding grit into the tiles, amber eyes sweeping the entire room—when a shadow moved.
Freya surged from the wall beside the door—platinum-cyan hair a wild blur, blue eyes glinting murder—and slammed into Rhea’s back with both hands, a shove that sent her sprawling forward.
"Shit—!" Rhea’s curse rang out, sharp and loud, as she crashed to her knees, palms slapping the floor with a sting, the doorframe shuddering from her weight.
Freya didn’t pause—her leg coiled back like a spring and lashed out, boot driving into Kael’s stomach with a meaty thud that folded him in half.
Food packets and the shopping bag flew— The chicken wrap and clothes scattering like leaves—as he hurtled back, slamming into the kitchen counter, the edge gouging his spine.
Pain flared hot, air punched from his lungs in a ragged wheeze, his vision swimming as he clutched the counter to stay upright.
Freya wheeled around—face a mask of cold fury, lips curled in a snarl—and yanked the door shut with a bang, the lock snapping into place as Rhea’s fists hammered the wood from inside, her voice booming through, "Freya, you bitch, open the door. If anything happens to Kael, I will hunt you down and burn your entirety to ashes."
Kael sucked in a breath—gut throbbing, ribs screaming—when Freya launched at him without a break, a predator off its leash, intent blazing clear: she’d kill him, tear him apart, no hesitation.
In her grip gleamed a broken spoon—its jagged, sharpened tip a wicked fang, honed to look like a dagger—and she thrust it down, aiming straight for his throat, a silver streak slicing the air. He reacted fast—arms snapping up, hands clamping her wrists mid-strike—the metal hovering inches from his jugular, trembling as their strength clashed.
"Get—the fuck—off me!" he growled, voice gravel-rough, teeth gritted as he flipped his power on—empathic resonance surging through his fingers, pain igniting in her wrists like molten spikes boring into bone.
She flinched—eyes squeezing tight, a hiss ripping from her throat—but didn’t yield, rearing back and slamming her forehead into his with a bone-jarring crack. The headbutt smashed through him—skull ringing, stars bursting white-hot behind his eyes—and he staggered, grip slipping as blood trickled warm from his nose, copper flooding his mouth.
Freya twisted free—spoon slashing down toward his chest, a killing blow—and he threw himself sideways, forearm jerking up at the last gasp. The jagged tip sank deep—flesh parting with a wet crunch, muscle tearing as blood welled fast—and he roared, a primal groan tearing loose, pain searing white down his arm.
"You bitch!" he spat, blood splattering the tiles, but he didn’t buckle—his free fist rocketed up, knuckles smashing her jaw with a brutal pop that snapped her head to the side, her body lurching from the impact, spit and red spraying from her lip.
Freya reeled—feet scrambling, jaw slack—but lunged back, feral and fast, swinging the spoon in a wild arc toward his ribs.
Kael ducked—breath short, arm throbbing—and caught her wrist again, twisting hard until her fingers spasmed, the weapon clattering free with a metallic ping.
"Not this time," he snarled, shoving her back, but she countered—knee driving up toward his groin. He pivoted—barely, the blow grazing his thigh—and grabbed her shoulders, hurling her toward the table.
She hit it hard—wood groaning, legs scraping loud—her hip slamming the edge as she rolled off, crashing to the floor with a grunt, hair whipping across her face like a storm-tossed veil.
"Stay down!" Kael barked, chest heaving, blood dripping steady from his arm, but Freya scrambled up—on all fours, growling low, a beast unbowed—her blue eyes locking his with icy hate.
She lunged—fingers clawing for his throat, nails raking his collarbone—and he sidestepped, grabbing her arm and twisting it behind her, wrenching it up until her shoulder popped loud.
She snarled—pain twisting her face—but kicked back, heel smashing his shin, forcing him to stagger, his grip loosening. "You’re dead!" she spat, voice raw and venomous, breaking free and spinning to tackle him low, her shoulder ramming his gut.
They hit the ground—hard—tiles cracking under their weight, his back slamming down as breath whooshed out, her atop him, straddling his chest. Her fists flew—wild, relentless—pounding his face, his jaw, blood blooming under his eye as he bucked beneath her, arms flailing to block.
"Die already!" she hissed, nails digging into his cheek, but he roared—rage surging hot—and hooked her arm, rolling them over in a tangle of limbs, pinning her beneath him.
She thrashed—legs kicking, elbows jabbing—her breath hot and ragged against his face, but he drove his knee into her stomach, pinning her down as his good fist cracked across her cheek, a blow that snapped her head sideways, blood streaking from her nose.
She faltered—eyes glazing, body slackening—but rallied, clawing at his throat again, fingers curling tight, choking him as her legs locked around his waist, squeezing hard. 𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙥𝒖𝒃.𝙘𝙤𝒎
"I’ll—end—you," she rasped, voice breaking, but Kael growled—low, guttural—and slammed his elbow into her temple, a dull thud that rocked her skull. Her grip slipped—fingers twitching loose—and he kicked free, rolling to his feet, blood dripping thick from his arm, his face, pooling dark beneath him.
Freya crawled—slow, dazed—reaching for the spoon again, but he charged, boot swinging up in a vicious arc, heel smashing her jaw with a wet crunch. Blood sprayed—her head snapped back, body crumpling—and she hit the floor limp, unconscious at last, her chest rising shallow in the wreckage, hair splayed like frost over the tiles.
Kael stood over her—panting hard, vision blurring—every muscle screaming, blood slicking his hands, his shirt, the floor. He gripped the spoon’s handle—still jutting from his forearm, pain a pulsing fire—and ripped it out with a yell, metal tearing flesh, a gush of red splattering the ground as he flung it aside, the clatter echoing loud.
"Fuck this shit!" he bellowed, voice cracking with exhaustion and fury, kicking a chair out of his way, wood skittering across the room. "Why can’t this be fucking easier?" His hazel eyes burned—sweat stinging, blood crusting his nose—as he stumbled to Rhea’s door, her banging a relentless thunder, her voice piercing through, "Kael, is that you? Open this damn door!"
He fumbled the key—fingers slick, trembling—unlocking it with a shaky twist, and the door burst open, Rhea exploding out like a wildfire unleashed.
She jolted to a stop—amber wide, breath catching—taking in the carnage: Kael swaying, blood dripping from his arm, his face bruised and swelling; Freya sprawled motionless, a broken heap in the middle, blood pooling beneath her jaw.
"Holy fucking hell," she breathed, voice tight, then zeroed in on his arm—red soaking through his sleeve, dripping steady onto the tiles. "You’re bleeding out—move, now!" He waved her off—"It’s fine, Rhea, I’ll heal"—but she ignored him, ripping her t-shirt off in a single yank, crimson hair swinging wild as she stood bare in her bra, black fabric stark against her skin.
"Shut your damn mouth—it’s not fine," she snapped, wrapping the shirt around his forearm, knotting it tight over the gash, blood seeping through as he hissed, pain flaring sharp under her rough care.
She tied it off—hands steady, stained red—and stepped back, chest heaving, amber flashing as she turned to Freya’s limp form. "This is for locking me in, you frosty cunt," she growled, stomping forward and driving a savage kick into Freya’s ribs—bones thudding dull under her boot, a groan escaping the unconscious woman.
Rhea bent low—muscles flexing, sweat glistening on her shoulders—and grabbed Freya under the arms, hauling her up with a grunt. She dragged the dead weight across the floor.
"You’re not pulling that shit again," she muttered, tossing Freya onto the cot with a bounce, the frame creaking loud under the impact, her body slumping crooked against the wall. Rhea spun—hair whipping, hands planting on her hips—reaching for the door to slam it shut, the lock already clicking in her mind, when Kael’s voice sliced through, sharp and commanding—
"Stop."
