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Belle slowly backed away, heart rending in two at the anguished cries of her dear friend—her first boyfriend—and the mounting terror at facing the primal beast again. What could she even do? She’d barely shocked Liam, and she’d almost killed him. No, actually killed him, until she restarted his heart. If she had to defend herself again, she was terrified she’d lose total control this time and really end him in a no-second-chances way.
Her back stopped against a full-length wardrobe. What if, what if she simply hid? His back was still to her, the transformation really taking him over now with the fur and limbs elongating.
It was worth a try. She climbed into the empty wardrobe and shut the doors.
Within seconds, Liam’s cries had ceased. There was a silence, and then a low growl, followed by sniffing.
Belle covered her mouth with her hand, trying to reign in her rattled breathing. She heard the clicks along the floor getting closer, the claws that would try to tear through her again.
She couldn’t believe this was happening again. Why won’t the beast stop coming after her?
A revelation came to her from some tiny part of her brain that hadn’t yet bunkered down in panic mode. Maybe, just maybe, beast-Liam would change back into human-Liam once he completed the command Violet gave him?
That had to be it. She was the mission. Belle was the other Homecoming princess that needed to be put out of commission. And so the beast wouldn’t stop, until she ended up like Lisa and Nieves. The toxin that caused the coma must be in his claws, except Belle had healed quickly and so the numbness hadn’t consumed her.
She could pretend; yes, that’s it. If he clawed her again, she would stay down this time.
There was an eerie quiet outside. And then the doors cracked open.
Belle slammed them back shut, and a great bellow of rage shook the room. The strength in her legs left her and she collapsed, just barely keeping her strong grip on the doors. The wardrobe began to shake violently, and she screamed in terror.
The electricity erupted in her hands. “No.” She didn’t want to kill him. “No powers.” She tried to do what she’d learned, imagine her hands free of the blue energy.
It worked.
One of the doors ripped off. She flattened herself against the back of the wardrobe. “No powers, no powers,” she chanted in a ragged whisper.
But the energy, not finding an outlet in her hands, began building beneath her skin, all over her body.
“No, no, no, no.” It was like the moment before she killed the three Hammerson brothers. If the power exploded out of her now, Liam was a dead man. And Ernesto, too.
The other door ripped off. The terrifying beast framed her view now. She crouched down into the farthest corner, trying to make herself as small as possible.
No powers, no powers.
The beast roared into the closeted space, and the very sound assaulted her every fiber. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming out.
Belle had made up her mind. She’d die before she killed her loved ones.
She heard the click-click of the claws entering the wardrobe, but she also felt the energy roiling beneath her skin, prickling outward, on the verge of bursting out of her. Soon, she would pass out, and then awaken to the carnage.
A rippling growl filled her ears and hot breath fanned her face. She could feel her strength leaving her.
This was it.
Her eyes peeled open, and she found herself looking into minty green, yellow-flecked eyes devoid of emotion, framed by blonde fur.
“Hurry,” she whispered.
Just like in her nightmare, he opened his razor-teethed mouth wide and latched onto her throat.
Darkness consumed her.