Page 121 of Fang & Fury

Niall went down, Darach on top of him. They crashed into the mud together.

And suddenly, broadswords were useless.

Niall grabbed a dagger from his belt, driving it upward toward Darach’s face.

Darach gripped his wrist and bore down on him.

Their arms shook from the battle they were waging, each seeking to overpower the other, yet neither succeeding.

Darach changed tactics. He let the beast emerge—just a little.

His gums started to ache as his fangs burst out. His muscles corded and bunched, and his knuckles burned as those scythe-like blades pushed free from the flesh.

Opening his mouth, he made sure Niall saw his teeth.

His brother stiffened under him, his eyes snapping wide.

With a yell, he pushed hard against the dagger.

The blade was horizontal now, halfway between Darach’s throat and his.

Darach gritted his teeth and let the beast emerge further still.

It gave him the burst of strength he needed.

The blade sliced down, straight across Niall’s throat.

His brother bucked against him, choking.

Darach pressed harder still, feeling the iron cut through flesh, sinew, and finally bone.

Blood bubbled up from Niall’s lips, and he continued to fight.

And all the while, their gazes remained locked.

Darach didn’t see regret or fear in his brother’s eyes as he died—just fury.

Somehow, it made him feel cheated. He’d hoped to see his brother sorry before the end, had wanted to see him dragged away in chains to face Lara’s justice. But that wasn’t the path he’d chosen.

Niall stopped struggling then and went limp against Darach. Staring down at his face, he watched life fade from his brother’s blue eyes.

He remained kneeling over him.

Around him, the groans of the injured and dying seemed strangely distant.

Years of hatred—and this was how it ended.

A wet, sucking sound intruded then, and he lifted his chin, glancing right.

He’d forgotten Maol and Ailsa.

The warrior was clearly dead, spread-eagled on his back, but Ailsa straddled him. Hands planted on either side of his head, she drank from his neck, her body shivering and convulsing, such was the state of her rapture.

“Ailsa?” His voice came out in an exhausted rasp. Earlier, the bavaan had deserted her, yet the bloodlust had returned now, even stronger than before.

Had he lost her?

She heard him though.