Brotherhood of Cain (Werewolf/Mafia)

Chapter Thirty-Five: Territorial

*Today is my birthday, so I'll be off with Rollo partying. Enjoy the update! xoxo*

"Kill a man, one is a murderer;

Kill a million, a conquerer;

Kill them all, a god." - Jean Rostand

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ethel's POV

Kratos stumbled back, nose crooked and blood spilling from his nostrils. His face darkened and he shook his head, trying to bounce back from having his noggin knocked around. Draven remained calm, standing unmoving a few feet away. I watched his mouth move but couldn't make out the words.

  Then Kratos was charging him like an angry bull, graceless and bulky. Draven slid out of the way with one east step, watching Kratos with the look of a parent dealing with an unruly child. But this wasn't a child, this was a two-hundred pound werewolf with vengeance in his eyes.

  Kratos swung the second hit, grazing Draven's arm as he dodged. Though the hit looked like it barely affected Draven as he kept giving Kratos that same look, except this time I noticed a bit of a scowl to it. He was annoyed, definitely annoyed.

  I kinda excepted him to beat the shit out of Kratos, but this wasn't very surprising. Draven was slowly wearing down the other wolf, and that was when he would pounce. For now, every swing Kratos threw was just more energy he was losing. And as I watched, I really understood the whole 'cat and mouse' expression.

  A slim sheen of sweat glazed Draven's body at his swift dodges, and I felt that same sheen of perspiration covering my neck, chest, breasts, almost as if I was the one up there fighting. The crowd had gone quiet, enraptured with the silent humiliation Draven rained down upon Kratos. Only the sound of Draven's shifting feet and Kratos' wild efforts filled the room.

  Kratos' face burned red and his body was dripping with sweat as his moves became increasingly sloppier and sloppier. Though his black eyes remained determined, lit with embarrassment and fury. He wouldn't stop, no, he would keep trying to land a punch on Draven until he was dead.

  Draven seemed to notice this too. And with one more disappointed glance, smashed his fist into Kratos' nose, knocking the wolf down. Kratos' dropped like a sack of potatoes, furiously shaking his head as if to clear a fog. It seemed like everyone held their breath as he stayed down, big body trembling.

  One. Two. Thr—

  His hand slowly reached toward the ropes, and thats when I noticed his fingernails were thick black claws, that the liquid on his body wasn't just sweat, that little hairs littered every inch, and that his bones weren't supposed to be bent that way.

  Oh. Shit.

  "Look out!" I yelled to Draven, but he seemed to already know, striding over to Kratos' shifting form.

  I knew it was too late the moment Kratos' flew up. The crowd seemed to realize the danger as everyone inched out of their chairs, bodies braced to run at any moment. I didn't see the Amish man guarding the door, and anyone else that seemed to work here stayed along the edge of the room.

  I looked to Reese, finding his spot empty and the crippled werewolf flying through the tables and to the exit. Loyalty at its finest. Then again, what could he do to help other than be Kratos' chew toy for a few seconds?

  "You need help up there, wolfie?" My voice sounded more like I was asking him what he wanted for dinner rather than if he needed help with a homicidal werewolf. Remain calm in the face of danger. Right.