Albrecht’s excitement was short-lived. His weight pressed down into my wrists painfully, my arms straining against his grip. There was no doubt that he was stronger than me. He had leverage, and worse, he had my fear. The consequences of not being able to fight back were too dire to even contemplate. I had to act quickly.


    He had one of my legs pinned with his knee, but the other leg was still free. I shifted my hips, feeling for the ground beneath me, and planted my foot firmly. In one quick motion, I thrust my hips upward, slamming into him with as much force as I could muster.


    He grunted, and his balance shifted just enough for me to pull my other leg free. Twisting to the side, I hooked one of my legs around his waist and pushed with the other, rolling us over. His grip on my wrists faltered as he found himself beneath me. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse, I pulled my hands free, fell away from him, and scrambled to my knees.


    Pretend he’s a wolf, I told myself, just an arrogant wolf who thinks he’s better than the human. If I can beat one of those damn wolves, I can beat him too.


    To calm my racing heart, I thought about General Harlow, who had made no secret of his dislike for me. That asshole always made things difficult for me. I did my best not to show it, but it really got to me sometimes.


    But Harlow didn’t scare me; he made me angry.


    I chased after that thread of anger and grasped onto it desperately. Anger was something I could work with. My knife still lay on the floor, a few feet away from where Albrecht was climbing to his feet. I needed to get my hands on that knife.


    But first, I had to deal with the wolf in front of me.


    I rarely took the offensive in training, so used to fighting people who were much larger than me, but Albrecht wasn’t larger than me. Those wiry muscles carried a lot of strength, but he had a slight build, and the knife wound in his neck hadn’t stopped bleeding. After months of training, access to good food, and some anger to dull my fear, suddenly he didn’t seem so intimidating.


    I lunged forward and slammed my shoulder into his chest. My direct attack surprised him and I pushed forward, ignoring the searing pain in my ribs, and used the momentum to knock him down.


    I scrambled to straddle his chest and pinned his arms with my knees. Without a moment''s hesitation, I landed a sharp blow to his face. Unaccustomed to using my fists, I felt an explosion of pain as my knuckles collided with his cheekbone. But that pain was nothing in the face of my other injuries.


    I hit him again, breaking the skin of my knuckle open on his jaw, then again with my other hand, landing a solid blow to his temple. Seeing his eyes roll back, I glanced at my knife, sitting just barely out of reach.


    Drawing a shaky breath, I stuck him again, my fist hitting his neck, right where I had stabbed him. He howled in pain as I released him and dove for the knife. Every movement sent explosions of pain through me, but I blocked them out and stretched my hand, closing my fingers around the hilt.


    I barely had time to grab onto it and climb to my knees when a weight slammed into my back, knocking me back to the floor. The air flew out of my lungs and I gasped as his full weight fell on me.


    “Not so fast,” he growled, his voice hot and ragged in my ear.


    I felt something press into my leg and realized that, despite being stabbed and beaten, he was thoroughly enjoying himself. His hand pressed against the back of my head, forcing my swollen and bloodied face into the floor. He rubbed against me and groaned.


    I clenched the knife tightly in my fist, the blade pressed dangerously close to my side. He hadn’t noticed that I had it yet, far too focused on holding me down.


    “Fuck yeah,” he muttered in my ear, “that''s it. Keep fighting me. I’ll have you begging soon enough.”


    He grabbed onto the waist of my pants and started tugging them down. Wild panic surged through me. No, no, no! This wasn''t happening.


    With a desperate jerk of my shoulder, I freed the arm that held the blade out from under me. My body screamed in protest, but I ignored it and slashed blindly behind me. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    The blade met with soft flesh, and Albrecht snarled. He tried to grab my arm with one hand while continuing to tug at my pants, which had slipped down past my hips. His weight shifted as he chased after my arm, and I bucked my hips, knocking him off balance.


    With his weight no longer holding me down, I twisted onto my back and slashed at his chest. Blood poured from the wound, and I continued to slash wildly, not caring about where I hit.


    Albrecht fell back, his chest a mess of ragged gashes. I dove at him, not even bothering to pin him, and plunged the blade into his chest with all my strength.


    “I said,” I growled as I raised my arm and brought the blade back down, “You will never touch me again!”


    As I lifted the blade again, blood spurted from the wound and his breathing became labored. I realized I’d hit something vital. But instead of driving the blade into his chest again, a blow that might end his foul existence, I stabbed it into his stomach. A quick death was too good for him.


    He let out a strangled noise that might have been a cry of pain, and I aimed the knife for his shoulder. Over and over, I drove the blade into his body, avoiding the fatal blow. I thought of my mother, her beautiful existence so violently destroyed by his hands, and relentlessly continued plunging my knife into his now defenseless form.


    Tears began to mingle with his blood and the other fluids on my face, as I watched him begin to choke on his own blood. His teeth were stained red as he turned his gaze to me. Even as he gasped for his last breath of life, he watched me with hatred in his eyes.


    “I guess you got to see me cry after all,” I told him with a choked laugh, doubting he would hear my words, “You deserved so much worse. My only regret is that I killed you too quickly.”


    His body shuddered violently and his chest stopped moving. Albrecht was dead. The man who haunted my nightmares was no more.


    Another shaking laugh escaped from my lips, which quickly turned into a sob. Tears poured down my cheeks, washing them clean. The sobs devolved into wailing screams as the weight of what had happened hit me.


    I stayed in that room for a long time, long after my sobs had finally subsided.


    Though I felt no guilt for killing him, there was still the grim knowledge that a life had been ended by my own hands. It was righteous and it was just, but it felt like a piece of me had been lost. It was a piece I’d gladly parted with, a loss worth its gain, but I couldn’t help but mourn it nonetheless.


    I’d thought that seeing Albrecht punished for what he did to my mother would alleviate some of my sorrow, but it only dulled the ache. Even if Albrecht was gone, it wouldn''t bring her back.


    Eventually I climbed to my feet. My tears were exhausted and my heart felt hollow, and I needed to find my way out of wherever he had taken me.


    The throbbing in my head was accompanied by dizziness and nausea, a concerning combination when faced with a wound to the head. Breathing was painful, but it wasn’t a struggle, reassuring me that, if nothing else, my broken rib hadn’t punctured a lung.


    I grabbed Albrecht’s torch from the wall and opened the door. On the other side was a long hallway, littered with dust and cobwebs. However, as I studied the old carpet, I saw disturbances in the thick layer of dust, pointing me in the right direction.


    I followed the subtle footprints down the hall until I came to a darkened stairwell. Pitch blackness awaited me from above and below. Using the torch to light my way, I started to climb the stairs, one agonizing step at a time. As the adrenaline left me, aches and fatigue rose up in its wake. Each stair felt like a mountain I had to climb, but I pushed forward, desperate to find my way out.


    After climbing for what seemed like an eternity, passing one dirty, abandoned floor after another, I reached the top of the stairs. The hallway before me still looked like it hadn’t been touched in many years, but fading sunlight shone through the windows, telling me that I’d reached a level above ground.


    The pain behind my eyes was almost blinding now that I was facing a fully illuminated area. I wandered down the hallway looking for an exit door, still following the slight signs of disturbance in the dusty carpet. Eventually, I came to a door at the end of the hall with the knob broken off.


    I pushed against the door, but it didn''t budge. I slipped my fingers into the hole where the knob should be and pulled on it with the same result. I had no way to open it. I was still trapped.


    Summoning the last of my strength, I pounded on the door with my fist and shouted, “Hello! Is anyone out there?!”


    Silence was my only response. There was no one on the other side of the door. I pounded again, hitting the door with all of my strength, and continued to shout.


    “Hello? Help! Please! Let me out!” I screamed, and my head felt like it was going to split open.


    I continued my efforts for as long as I could in my weakened state. Soon my voice became weaker and the dizziness and pain made it impossible to continue banging on the door. I fell to my knees, tears returning to my eyes as I realized that no one could hear me.


    Was anyone even looking for me? Did anyone care that I was gone?


    I curled up on the floor next to the door and quietly sobbed. No one was coming. No one would find me. I was all alone.


    My exhaustion became too strong to fight, and the room swam around me as darkness clouded my vision. I’d done everything I could. I had nothing left to give. Why hadn’t anyone come for me?


    Just as the darkness devoured my consciousness, I heard a door being kicked open and voices calling for help.