Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

35. Calo

35

CALO

T he night air is thick with the stench of charred wood and the metallic tang of blood. My heart thunders in my chest as I sprint toward the Murdok estate, the once majestic structure now a blazing inferno. The ground beneath my boots is a treacherous landscape of debris and fallen bodies, each step a testament to the chaos unfolding before me.

A dark elf bursts from the smoke, his blade arcing toward me with lethal intent. I sidestep his attack, my body moving with the fluid grace of a predator. My fist connects with his chest, the impact sending him sprawling. I snatch up his fallen weapon. It feels right in my hand, an extension of my will.

The courtyard is a maelstrom of violence—screams rend the air, and the clash of steel on steel is a grim symphony to my ears. I move through the carnage, my eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Garron and Lazir. Where are they?

"What the hell is going on?" The words slip from my lips, swallowed by the roar of the flames. I dodge a spear thrust, driving my stolen blade into an attacker's side. He falls with a gurgled cry, and I'm already moving, my senses heightened by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I'm an alpha male, a minotaur born and bred for battle, and yet the sight of the estate in ruins sends a chill through me. This wasn't part of the plan. We were supposed to slip in and out unseen, not be caught in the middle of a full-scale assault.

The smoke stings my eyes, but I refuse to blink, to miss even a moment of what's happening around me. My mind races with possibilities, each more dire than the last. Are Garron and Lazir trapped inside? Are they even still alive?

A group of dark elves charges me, their expressions twisted with fury. I meet them head-on, my blade a blur as I cut through their ranks. They fall before me, but for every one I defeat, another seems to take their place.

"You'll have to do better than that," I growl. I parry a sword strike, then kick the offending elf square in the chest. He stumbles backward, tripping over a fallen comrade and disappearing into the smoke.

I fight my way closer to the estate, each step a battle against the tide of dark elves. My muscles ache and my breath comes in ragged gasps, but I push on. I have to find them. I have to get Mara's evidence to General Draun, to expose Wlloza for the traitor he is.

The heat of the inferno outside is nothing compared to the rage boiling within me as I burst through the shattered doors of the main hall. The grandeur of the estate is marred by battle, and in the heart of the chaos, my brothers, Garron and Lazir, are locked in a desperate struggle against a dark elf clad in gleaming silver armor—General Draun. His presence here is no coincidence.

"General Draun..." I mutter under my breath, taking in the scene with a sinking heart.

Lazir spots me first, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he parries a strike from Draun's massive sword. His eyes meet mine, filled with a panic that chills me to the core. "Calo! Where’s Mara?!" he shouts.

The question hits me like a physical blow, and I freeze, the weight of my failure pressing down on me. Lazir ducks another of Draun's attacks, his movements a blur as he fights his way to my side. "I told you to keep her safe!" he roars.

His words are a dagger in my chest, twisting with the realization of what's happening. Lazir's voice is low, urgent, as he leans in close. "This is a trap. Draun and Wlloza have teamed up. They're planning a rebellion. The fight—it's just a ploy."

Draun's blade swings wide, forcing us to scatter. I roll to the side, coming up in a crouch with my weapon at the ready. Garron stumbles toward us, a hand clutched to his side where blood seeps through his fingers. His voice is a low growl, filled with anger and betrayal. "Why did you leave Mara?! Where is she?!" he yells.

My mind races, my thoughts a whirlwind of guilt and fear. "She's hiding," I manage to say. "She wouldn't leave. We have to finish this, or she's in danger."

Garron's gaze meets mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We're not just fighting for our lives now—we're fighting for Mara's. She's out there, alone and vulnerable, and it's up to us to ensure her safety.

The alpha male in me roars to life, my determination solidifying into an unbreakable resolve. I won't let Mara down. I can't. She's more than just our mission; she's become a part of us, a beacon of hope in a world that's been nothing but cruel.

"Let's end this," I say, my voice a low growl.

Draun may be a formidable opponent, but we’re not fighting alone. We have each other, and that makes us unstoppable.

Garron lunges first, his axe slicing through the air with deadly precision. Draun parries, the sound of steel on steel ringing out as he sidesteps the attack. Lazir's hammer comes next, a brutal swing that forces Draun back a step. It's the opening I need. I rush forward, my blade slamming into the general's side with a resounding crash. Draun grunts, his armor absorbing most of the impact, but the surprise in his eyes is satisfying.

He recovers quickly, striking out with his sword. I narrowly avoid the blade, feeling the whisper of air as it passes my face. We're locked in a deadly dance now, our movements a blur of violence and determination.

Draun's a seasoned warrior, his strikes fast and furious, but we match him blow for blow. Our combined strength pushes him to his limits, and I can see the flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Lazir suddenly roars murderously, his hammer swinging in a deadly arc that catches Draun on the shoulder, sending him to his knees.

"This is for her," Lazir snarls, his voice as cold as ice. The hammer comes down one final time on his skull, the sound of shattering bone echoing through the hall.

The silence that follows is deafening. We stand over Draun's lifeless body, our chests heaving. But within seconds, we quickly turn and head back outside to find Mara. The courtyard is a scene of carnage. But one figure stands out among the chaos—Wlloza.

The dark elf master is a mess of blood and grime, his once-pristine robes torn and stained. His fingers are tangled in Mara's hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. Rage boils within me at the sight of her pain.

"You dare destroy my plans? You'll watch her die for it!" Wlloza spits, his voice a frenzied snarl. His sword glints ominously in the firelight as he raises it high, ready to deliver the killing blow.

Every instinct within me screams to act, to protect her at all costs. My hand closes around the hilt of a dagger, and with a flick of my wrist, I send it sailing through the air. It strikes true, embedding itself in Wlloza's hand. He releases Mara with a howl of pain, the sword clattering to the ground beside him.

Mara doesn't hesitate. She kicks out, her boot connecting with Wlloza's knee with a sickening crunch. The dark elf crumples, his cries of agony music to my ears. She scoops up the fallen sword.