CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tom searched the room for the tenth time, heart pounding.
"John?" he muttered, lifting the bedsheets, checking under the frame.
Nothing.
For a second he genuinely wondered if he was finally losing his mind… when two hands suddenly landed on his shoulders.
Tom jumped so hard he nearly shifted instantly.
"Bro—!" He spun sharply into a fighting stance. "You have got to STOP doing that! Why are you here? And why are you—"
John cut him off without even blinking.
"Save your questions for later. We don't have time. Your trial of combat will begin soon."
Before Tom could speak, John grabbed him by the shoulders—
And the world vanished.
A heartbeat later, they landed so hard on dirt that Tom stumbled forward, dizzy.
"Wh—what was that?" he gasped.
"Warping," John answered in his usual arrogant tone.
"Warping?" Tom repeated, still dazed.
"A special ability," John said, dragging a massive seven-foot log of wood from the side of a tree. "Only Shadowed Omegas can use it."
Tom froze.
"Omega? Wait— I thought you were an Alpha?"
John slammed the log onto the ground with enough force to make the soil tremble. He wiped his hands and scoffed.
"I was never a true Alpha. I only inherited the bloodline of one. My father was the real Alpha… before they killed him."
The air shifted—awkward, heavy.
Tom swallowed. "I'm… I'm sorry about your father. Do you know who did it?"
John finally looked at him.
"No. All I know is—he died because he was weak."
His eyes sharpened.
"So, Tom… do you want to die?"
"H-hell no."
"Then why are you weak?"
Tom's jaw tightened. "I didn't ask to be weak, okay? I even left my family to get stronger—until I got kidnapped!"
"Excuses," John snapped. "It doesn't change anything."
Tom glared. "You keep talking like I'm useless. If I had full control of my traits, I bet I could beat your ass."
John smirked.
"Then prove it. Move me an inch—just one inch—and I'll admit you are strong."
Tom didn't hesitate. He charged in, trying throw a punch at John's jaw—
But to John, Tom moved like he was in slow-motion.
John simply tilted his head and—
CRACK.
He struck Tom in the groin so hard Tom flew backward, crashing through two trees before stopping.
Pain exploded up Tom's stomach.
Rage followed.
He sprinted back at John with all the speed he could muster—
But John was already behind him, one hand clamped around his throat.
BOOM.
Tom's back slammed into the ground, cracking the earth. Blood burst from his mouth on impact.
John lifted him higher by the throat. Tom, half-conscious, still spat blood in John's face.
John wiped it away and smirked.
"You're angry. Good. You'll need that."
He dropped Tom. Tom collapsed instantly, gasping, face red and throbbing.
"If it weren't for Luna," John continued coldly, "I would have left you to rot in that asylum. I have my own problems. I don't have time to babysit a kid. Now get up."
Tom forced himself upright, swaying.
John had already lit a fire.
Tom frowned. "Won't they see the smoke?"
"We're far enough. Don't worry."
Tom pointed. "Then why don't we run?"
"Because by tomorrow morning, if they notice you're missing they will have their witches track you with white magic like a pack of wolves."
John stepped closer.
"You need to be stronger before sunrise—or you'll die in your duel."
Tom blinked. "Duel? What du—"
"Focus on getting stronger first before asking any questions." John interrupted sharply.
He pointed at the fire.
"Burn yourself."
Tom stared. "What?"
"Before your healing kicks in, you'll need to hit the log ten times. Then repeat the process until I say stop."
Tom took a step back. "That's going to hurt like hell— I can't—"
"If you can't handle this little pain," John growled, "you're better off dead. I still can't believe you're Luna's brother."
That did it.
Tom gritted his teeth and shoved both hands straight into the fire.
He screamed instantly.
"WHY—WHY IS IT THIS PAINFUL?!"
John shrugged casually. "Oh, right. I forgot to mention—I mixed vervain into the firewood. This way when your healing kicks in your flesh grows a lot stronger but the flames will bite deeper."
Tom trembled, skin sizzling, flesh burning until only raw muscle remained. He pulled his hands out at John's signal.
"Punch the log," John ordered.
Tom lifted his shaking fists and slammed them into the wood.
"AAAHHH!"
He hit it again.
And again.
And again.
Each strike ripped a scream from him.
Blood sprayed the bark.
His bones cracked and healed, cracked and healed, over and over.
This continued until dawn.
John finally stood.
"It's time. Let's go back."
Tom collapsed, chest heaving, hands trembling violently as the healing continued. The log soaked in his blood.
John touched him—
And they warped back to Tom's prison room.
John stepped back.
"I hope you survive this , it will be a shame to lose someone who has grit like you."
Then he vanished.
Tom's legs buckled instantly. His body struggled to keep healing. The pain, exhaustion, and repeated breaking of his bones drained the last drop of strength he had.
He collapsed onto the floor.
His eyes fluttered shut.
And darkness pulled him under.