The Red Kingdom Ch 7: To Watch, Or To Fight, Heros Hard Choice!

Before Senaka could even point her finger this time, one of the men stepped forward on his own.

I blinked.

He looked so... young.

Couldn't have been more than seventeen, maybe eighteen if I was being generous. Skinny arms, lean frame, dirty blond hair that hadn't seen a comb in weeks. He stood barefoot in the soil, chest rising and falling hard but steady, and he didn't say a word.

Not one.

Senaka arched an eyebrow, a smirk creeping across her lips. "I like that look in your eye," she said, amused. She reached into her pouch again and tossed another piece of meat onto the ground like she was feeding stray dogs.

"Let's see what you got."

The meat barely hit the dirt before the ground began to rumble.

I wanted to believe the kid wasn't afraid. He sure stood like he wasn't. But as I looked closer—past the defiance, past the straight shoulders—I saw the truth.

The sweat glistening down his cheek.

His knuckles white.

His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

He was terrified. And who could blame him? He'd have been a fool not to be.

The ground cracked open again, and out came another Vurlak—this one fatter, its fur darker and matted with wet streaks of something I didn't want to identify.

It tore into the jerky like it hadn't eaten in years, bits of meat and spit flying as it chomped down in three disgusting bites.

Then its head slowly turned.

And locked onto the boy.

There was no snarl this time—no warning.

Just a blur of claws as the Vurlak lunged.

The kid moved.

He ducked and rolled to the side with a quickness that caught even me off guard. The Vurlak's claws sliced air where he'd been just a heartbeat ago.

The boy scrambled up and sprinted to the left. The Vurlak followed, fast and low, kicking up dirt in a messy trail behind it.

Another strike—he jumped. Jumped! The kid leapt over a low swipe and landed in a tumble, hitting the ground and rolling back to his feet like a dancer who'd trained on uneven floors.

The Vurlak snarled and whipped around again, but the boy was already gone, sliding beneath its arm, scraping his shoulder on the dirt but staying upright.

For a moment—just a moment—I forgot where I was.

I forgot about the giant looming above us, and the cage, and the wall, and Evermore, and the fact that any one of us could be next.

I was watching someone live.

I don't know who he was. I don't know where he came from or why he ended up in that line on lottery day.

But that boy was fighting.

And every dodge, every breathless slide under claws, every stumble that he turned into a move felt like a giant middle finger to the whole cursed world.

I found myself leaning forward, fists clenched, heart hammering.

Come on, kid.

Just a little longer.

The kid kept moving. Fast, light on his feet, weaving between the Vurlak's claws like his life depended on it—because, well, it did.

I almost believed he'd make it.

But almost doesn't mean a damn thing.

He dodged another swipe, ducked under the beast's arm, but this time the Vurlak twisted its weight at the last second.

Its thick tail lashed out like a whip.

Crack.

The blow slammed into the boy's chest with a sickening thud that echoed like a hammer on wood.

He flew backward.

His body hit the ground hard and rolled—limbs flopping like a ragdoll—until he stopped in a heap, arms sprawled, breath knocked clean out of him.

Before he could get up—before he could even breathe—the Vurlak was already there.

It pounced, claws raking across his chest.

The boy screamed.

Not a little yell. Not a grunt.

A scream that cut through the forest like a jagged blade.

Raw, real, soul-tearing.

The kind of scream that scrapes at your bones and leaves something behind.

My blood ran cold.

All of us froze.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

No one helped.

Because what the hell were we supposed to do? We didn't have weapons, didn't have numbers, didn't even have the guts, apparently.

We just watched.

And then...

I saw it.

That same look.

The same helpless thrashing, the same crimson streaks across the dirt, the same pleading eyes that I'd seen in Evermore.

When the bandits came.

When I hid.

When I watched them die.

And I did nothing.

Not again.

Not again.

"No..." I heard myself say. My voice cracked, shaky, but louder than I meant it to be. "No, you don't!"

I pushed forward, breaking into a run before my mind could talk me out of it.

Senaka didn't stop me.

The others didn't stop me.

Hell, even fear didn't stop me.

I didn't know what I was doing—I didn't even know if I could do anything—but I wasn't about to sit here and watch another person get torn apart.

I reached down as I ran and grabbed the first thing my hand could find—a jagged rock, half-buried in dirt and moss. My fingers curled around it so tight it bit into my palm.

The Vurlak was too busy clawing at the kid's chest to notice me.

I took the shot.

Thwack!

The rock hit its back hard enough to leave a bloody mark in the matted fur.

The Vurlak hissed in pain, jerking upright.

Then it turned.

Right. At. Me.

Its little black eyes narrowed. Its lips peeled back, revealing those awful teeth.

I didn't flinch.

Not this time.

"Let's do this," I muttered, bracing my legs as the beast snarled and crouched low.

I was next.

And I wasn't going down easy.