38. Fucking Mine

Foxx's words cut off on a squeal as the floor dropped beneath him, his gun slipping from his grasp. The sound was cut off when he landed hard on his back, on top of broken pieces of floor. The wind knocked out of him, Foxx's cry of pain was soundless.

Laying there wincing, Foxx coughed a few times before waving away the dust floating all around him.

When something grabbed him and hauled him up, he'd been about to attack, but stopped on realizing it was Harlow.

The man coughed a few times before asking, "You okay?"

Foxx stretched and rubbed at his back, before clearing his throat. "I'm fine. But I lost one of my guns. You?"

"I'm fine. I lost one too."

Glancing up, he frowned at the hole above. It looked like the werewolves had torn through the ceiling and floor support. The werewolves…

Foxx's gaze flicked down quickly, eyeing the room as best he could through the settling dust. The silence was deafening in the presence of the glowing eyes that were peering right at them. Foxx spun, finding more of the same. Eighteen sets in total… They were surrounded on all sides, with two guns between them…

"Fuck, this is not good…" Harlow rasped. The man unholstered his gun, dropped his current clip and slapped a new one in. "Get your gun out."

This wouldn't work. Sure, nine bullets a clip…was enough to kill them…but they'd never be able to shoot them fast enough. They'd kill a few, and then they'd be torn to shreds.

Foxx tensed as the growling started. He couldn't fight them close up…they were too strong right now…

"Foxx, get your gun out," Harlow snapped.

But…he could…fight them up close…just…not with his claws...

Foxx spun towards Harlow, gasping, "Give me your sword!"

Harlow's eyes widened at him as if he was insane. "What?"

"I'm going to tornado them. Give me your damn sword!"

"Foxx, are you insane?!"

"It's the only way! Unless you'd rather just be torn apart?!" he snapped.

"You are not going to do that stupid tornado thing again."

"STUPID?!" Foxx shrieked. "It worked, didn't it?!"

"Yeah, on fucking half-assed zombies, these are overpowered werewolves!"

"It's made of silver, it will still work!"

The wolves' growls grew in volume. As the dust was almost settled now, their forms were recognizable, as were their movements. A few took menacing steps forward.

Harlow spun around, his back to him now as the man snapped, "Get your remaining gun out now!" The man readied for an attack.

"No!"

"Foxx!" Harlow growled, still turned away from him.

"NO!" Foxx hissed, before jumping onto Harlow's back.

"FOXX!" Harlow roared angrily. While Foxx let out a triumphant laugh as he freed the man's short sword from its sheath and pushed off Harlow's shoulders, catapulting himself over, landing in the middle of the wolves.

"You're fucking nuts!" he heard Harlow yell, but he ignored him.

"SPINNY TIME!!!" Foxx laughed maniacally as he spun, sword out.

He held his arms stiff, making sure his blade didn't fall when it connected with the wolves. They screamed and howled as he sliced into them, killing them just as he had the zombies, by shredding through them. Howls were going off all around the room, but Foxx didn't slow, even when the gunfire started.

As discombobulating as it was to keep his eyes open while spinning this fast, he did. It was all he could do in order to avoid the one blob that had a blurry pale peach strip where one's face would be. Continuing on his path of destruction into the werewolves, blood, tissue, and bits of organs splattered everywhere, and on him.

Foxx kept spinning until the only blob remaining was the one he knew was Harlow's, which is when he slowed and stumbled to a very wobbly stop. He shook his head as the room continued to spin, even when he wasn't.

"Dumbass."

Foxx turned with an angry hiss and slipped on blood. He landed hard on his ass while his vision kept spinning. "Fuck!"

When he finally was able to see clearly, he found Harlow leaning against the wall, gun holstered, arms crossed. The man looked angry. Which didn't make sense because Foxx had literally just saved their asses from a gruesome, painful death. Where was the appreciation for his quick thinking?!

"You yelled at me to be careful this whole time, and you are out here taking a risk with your stupid tornado trick."

"It's not stupid!" Foxx snapped, and pushed up off the ground. "Thanks to me, we are alive right now with only four left to kill!"

"We could have just as easily shot them."

"No, we'd have ended up under a pile of fucking raging bloodthirsty mutts, as they all attacked at fucking once!"

Harlow pushed up from his lean, his face twisting as he stormed forward. "Foxx, you took a RISK. We could have shot our way out of here. Hell, we could have broken down a damn door and let those fuckers rush into their precious flower patch! Because I guarantee, once they smelled that shit, they wouldn't have cared about us!"

"And that wouldn't have been risky?!" Foxx hissed, moving right up to the man, his fangs bared. "I went with the option that had the highest chance of us surviving! And safety wise, I didn't risk anything. I think I know my capabilities better than you, Harlow!"

They stood almost chest to chest now as they glared at each other. Well, as close to chest to chest as they could be with their height difference.

"What if you had tripped and impaled yourself, Foxx?! What if it hadn't even worked?! What if the wolves had been able to stop your spinning?! What then?!"

"Well, none of those bloody what if's matter, because, in case you didn't notice, Harlow, IT FUCKING WORKED!"

"You. Are. Careless," Harlow ground out.

"And. You," Foxx mocked. "Are bossy and overly opinionated!"

The human sneered. "I can be as bossy and opinionated as I want. I'm the senior hunter, remember?"

"You," Foxx poked the man hard in the chest, "are also an ASSHOLE!"

The man scoffed. "I think that's been established long before now, Foxx."

"Yeah, but I didn't realize you were the type of asshole who would retaliate for being turned down!"

Harlow jerked back, his eyes going wide. "What?!"

"That's right! I can tell! You've been picking and poking, and trying to aggravate me all fucking day, all because when you asked me out, I said no!"

"Foxx, I wasn't trying to irritate you because you told me no. I was irritating you because you were acting fucking weird and hesitant about going up against these stupid werewolves."

"Bullshit!"

Even as he snapped…his traitorous mind felt the need to remind him that he, in fact, had been in a weird headspace when they'd first set off. Was it possible that…Harlow had actually noticed he'd been feeling off…?

"I'm not mad that you said no," Harlow pressed.

"I—" He grimaced. "I don't believe you!"

The human growled angrily. "Well, you fucking have to because it's the truth!"

"Admit it, you are mad!"

"I'm not!"

"Ah, yes, because you wanting to kill Iggy is so equal to not being mad!" he sassed.

"I do want to kill Iggy, but that has nothing to do with me being mad at you!"

"Then what does it have to do with?!"

"It has to do with you being FUCKING MINE!" Harlow roared.

"I'm not yours!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!" Foxx denied again. "And see, you are mad!"

"I'm mad at Iggy trying to get near you, but I am NOT mad about you saying no to me!"

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!" Foxx screamed.

And Harlow screamed right back. "IT MAKES PERFECT FUCKING SENSE!"

"YOU ARE INFURIATING!"

"AND YOU'RE NOT?!" Harlow bellowed.

His breaths coming in and out in angry puffs, Foxx glared at the human who was breathing just as hard as him, and glaring right back. One minute he was glaring, and the next, Harlow's tongue was down his throat.