The Beast Within (The Elite Series) - By Jonathan Yanez Page 0,38
speed, strength, and numbers. What he did have going for him, however, was the element of surprise. A plan quickly began to form in his mind as he quietly made his way from the window to the front entrance.
The rain had stopped now, and a cold breeze played with the trees, swaying branches back and forth in a slow dance. Connor watched every step, careful not to make the tiniest of sounds as he turned the corner and placed himself at the front door. Readjusting his grip on the pickaxe handle, he crouched. His timing would have to be perfect, his luck even better.
Although he wasn’t able to see what was going on inside, he could still hear. Faust was going on about how he would rule the Five Families with an iron grip and how the history books would remember his valor in battle. This was followed by another thud. It sounded like a punch to the body.
Still Connor waited. He was waiting for the right moment, the moment when Faust and his band would be the most vulnerable, and the moment soon arrived.
“I bore of this nonsense,” Faust said. “Lift his head and let me have a clear shot at his throat.”
“Just as the weak plead to the strong,” was Faust’s wicked reply.
This was the moment Connor was waiting for, the moment when Faust and his accomplices were so sure of victory they wouldn’t be able to see anything else.
Connor knew he should be nervous, that would have been the appropriate response for anyone in his situation, but he wasn’t. More disturbing than his lack of nerves was the fact he was somewhat excited. His pulse quickened and a tingling sensation enveloped him. He could do this. He knew he could. The force within him—that drove him—assured him. He even wanted to laugh like he’d done so many times before when he welcomed a challenge, but this was different. He shook his head free of the idea of taking delight in such a horrible circumstance and once again focused on the task at hand.
Connor took a deep breath, counted to three in his head, and burst through the door. As he expected, the old wooden door, much like the rest of the building, was on its last leg. Behind his force, it shattered as though it were a glass window. Eyes focused on his target, he sprinted into the room.
Time slowed. Laren and the others turned. By the time they comprehended what was going on, Connor was mere feet from his target.
As much as he would have rather saved Laren, he knew the best chance they all had for survival was if he could free Lu. Every fiber in his heart told him to run to her, to strike down anyone causing her pain and keep her safe. Likewise, every synapse in his brain told him freeing Lu was the obvious choice. He wasn’t only the bigger of the two in size, but had already ended the career of one of their attackers.
Lu was slumped in his captor’s arms, half conscious as Connor burst through the door. The cold hand of his enemy raised his head, revealing his throat. The blows he’d already endured would have been enough to kill any human. For Lu, they only dazed him, and as the long fingers of unconsciousness sought to wrap themselves around him, Lu’s yellow eyes saw his savior approaching.
Connor brushed past Faust, who, still processing what was happening, made a snarling noise and a halfhearted attempt at a grab, but he was too slow. Without reducing his speed, Connor raised the silver-headed pickaxe in a huge arc. With a roar he didn’t know was inside him, he sunk the tip deep into skull of the Elite holding Lu.
He must have penetrated four or five inches of brain matter because the pickaxe was solidly placed. The Elite released his grip on Lu, his eyes turned from black back to blue, and his fangs receded as he stumbled to his knees and weakly groped at the pickaxe embedded in his head. Eventually he fell to the dirty wooden floor, never to rise again.
With no time for celebration, Connor grabbed the dark green metal handle of the nearest kerosene lamp and pivoted his body, ready to throw it into Faust’s chest. But he wasn’t there. Connor realized what happened too late. In the seconds it took him to grab the lamp, Faust