Jason leaned back in his chair, his swollen stomach pressing against the edge of the wooden table. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten this much—probably never in either of his lives. The stew had been thick and rich, the bread fresh and warm, and he had devoured every last bite like a starving man.
Because he was a starving man.
But as he sat there, rubbing his belly with a contented sigh, Jason realized he was the luckiest man in existence. He couldn't believe he had found these two creatures—a werewolf who could snap steel with her bare hands and an elf who could explode heads with a flick of his wrist.
If he didn't have them, there was no doubt he would be dead. The guards back in Eldrath would have caught him. Tauriel would have done who knew what to him. He would have been just another body in that dungeon, another failed experiment.
But Jason knew he had to get stronger. Because otherwise, he would remain a liability.
