Chapter 37
Dash lay on the floor of the abandoned house, his body battered and broken. Blood poured from deep gashes across his arms, legs, and torso, staining the dusty floor beneath him. His breathing was labored, shallow, as the werewolf loomed over him, savoring his pain. The creature's sharp claws had torn into Dash with merciless precision, leaving him unable to defend himself. Every breath felt like fire, and his consciousness flickered between agonizing clarity and the dizzying pull of unconsciousness.
The werewolf, a hulking, monstrous figure, stood over Dash with a twisted grin. It reveled in the sight of its prey suffering, circling him like a predator enjoying the thrill of the hunt. "Pathetic," it growled, relishing the pain it had caused. "You thought you could take me on?"
Dash's body trembled, but his spirit fought against the overwhelming urge to give in. He had been many things—arrogant, rebellious, a pain to others—but there was one thing that had always kept him going: his family.
"Danny, you bastard!" Dash's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper, but there was a ferocity in it that spoke of desperation. His body screamed in agony, but his mind held onto one single thought: I can't die. I won't die like this. My family needs me. He tried to move, but his mangled left leg refused to cooperate, sending fresh waves of pain shooting through him.
He had always been the bad boy, the one who didn't care about much except his own amusement. Guns, knives, the thrill of battle, the hunt—those things had filled his life. But there was one thing that had always been more important than anything else: his family. His parents, his siblings. Jazz, who had once been an outsider but had become part of his world.
He had learned to push past pain, to embrace the harshness of life, but even Dash, with all his bravado, knew there were some things he couldn't face alone. "Please, Danny..." His voice broke as he muttered the name of the one person who had become an ally.
"I'll do anything," he gasped, his chest heaving. "Just save me. I can't... I can't die like this. I have to make sure my family is okay. I have a mission. I can't... leave them."
The werewolf chuckled, the sound dark and low, like the rumbling of a distant storm. It seemed to find Dash's words amusing. "Your family? They're already as good as gone." The beast's claws scraped against the floor, eager to end the fight, but something in Dash's eyes sparked. He wasn't finished yet.
Despite the pain, despite the blood, Dash refused to surrender. His whole life had been about survival, about fighting for what mattered. Even if he was on the brink of death, even if the werewolf was going to finish him off piece by piece, Dash would keep fighting—because his family depended on him.
He couldn't let them down. Not like this. Not when the battle wasn't over. Not when he still had breath in his lungs.
Somewhere, far away, in the skies above, Danny was closing in on the scene. The energy from the ghostly battle still lingered in his body, and as he flew, he felt the sharp tug of desperation—a pull from his ally, from someone who had been a part of his life whether they both admitted it or not.