“Ow. What the-,” Sam splutters from the weighing pressure being pushed down against him, “What do you think you’re doing? Get the hell off of me, you stupid mutt-” he breathlessly spits in complaint while directing a hammering flurry of blunt kicks and torpedoing punches into my exposed torso; his fiery blows accompanied with every curse word held within his known vocabulary as if they were fuelling each of his attacks, screaming at me from the top of his lungs with nothing more than a burning hatred embedded deep within his tone before yelping in a strained huff, “I said get off of me.”
“Do it now, Willow,” my wolf commands with authority, demand riddled within her urgent request while she clearly instructs, “-end him and this nightmare already. Show him no mercy. We both know
