by Dana Archer
“They used guns to kill the two humans at my cabin too.” Those humans had no idea they were about to die either. Two quick pops and they fell dead. One pop and I nearly did too.
I scan the darkened woods around us. While I don’t hear or see anything, somebody could have us in their scope right now. I have no way of knowing either. A shifter, even one with the gifts of a firstborn, is no match for modern human technology. Or at least that’s what our enemy—the curs of our species—would like us to accept. They’d probably want us afraid too. Anyone could take us out at any time, and we couldn’t stop them.
Anger builds within me. Our own kind thinks to turn predators into prey.
A predator never cowers, though. We hunt, seeking out our enemies’ weaknesses, then striking when it’s least expected. And a hunter with the strength of his true mate is best suited to fight such a threat. He can think with the honed instincts of his animals. They won’t fight him. They won’t hamper him. They’ll focus on their prey and take it out. Maybe even using modern technology too.
“There’s no escape for them. They die today.”
Jarah nods. “I called those loyal to you. They’re coming.”
“Then let’s hunt. They can join us later.”
Jarah looks to the house. “Eli’s in there. He’s been injected with witch’s salve too.”
And Eli has the potential to be a weapon in this war against those who think to turn predators into prey. I give a sharp nod. “Then I go alone.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn my back on Jarah and run, letting my instincts and the piece of Sara’s soul I hold guide me to my true mate. Grief hangs heavy in her soul, but it hasn’t stopped her. I feel her determination. She’ll do anything to save Soren. Anything. My goddess told me that, and I feel that truth radiating outward from the light in my soul. Sara might not be a fighter, but she’ll fight for what’s hers. And if I can’t get to her soon enough, she’ll fight until her last breath.
Forty
Sara
“Why is that kid still screaming?”
Nolan’s growled question makes Soren cry louder. He balls his fists near his face in what strikes me as frustration, not fear. I lay my hand on his chest, but my touch does little to soothe him. I can’t blame him. Comfort isn’t going to help us. We need to get away from Nolan before he meets up with another group of shifters in order to do an exchange. One of Nolan’s sons for Soren, and me for his mate.
On a shaky exhale, I make peace with what I must do. As much as I ache for Nolan’s situation, I can’t allow my family to be sacrificed for his, and without Ilan, Soren is relying on me. I won’t fail him. He’s my reason for living now. “Soren’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten in hours.”
“Well, he’s going to have to suck it up. I didn’t bring the diaper bag with us.”
“Babies don’t suck it up and deal with hunger. They scream until their needs are met. It’s instinctual, nature’s way for them to ensure they’re not forgotten, not left alone to suffer.” My statement is met with silence. While I don’t want to add to his guilt, I can’t let this go. I’m fighting for my family now. “When your boys were babies, they would’ve cried for food, attention, and comfort too. And if they didn’t get their needs met, they would’ve suffered, emotionally and physically, just as Soren is now.”
Nolan doesn’t say anything, but he flicks his gaze to the rearview mirror. Soren would be visible in it. He lets out a heart-wrenching, whimpering cry.
“Hunger pains are scary for babies at this age, Nolan. They think they’re going to die alone. That nobody cares about them. That nobody loves them. Soren likely understands he lost Ilan, and now he’s hungry and thinks he’s been abandoned completely.”
Nolan smacks the steering wheel on a raw curse. “I can’t do anything about it. The kid’s just going to have to cry.”
“My house is only a couple of minutes away. Maybe not even that long.” I point at the approaching street. “Take a right there, and it’s on the next block.”
“You’ve got milk there?”
“And diapers. It won’t take long. I’ll even feed him in the backseat while we’re driving. It’ll delay us a few minutes, if that.” Nolan said he had to meet a deadline or lose his chance at recovering part of his family. After the mine explosion and the loss of Gabriel, those shifters he struck a deal with are ready to abort this mission, calling the experiment a failure, before they lose any more members of their pride.
Nolan flicks his gaze to me, then makes a sharp right, no turn signal, no braking. I smack my head against the window and grab the door handle. Nolan steps on the gas, the tires squealing. “You think to try anything, and I’ll knock you out. You won’t even get to say goodbye to the kid.”
Saying a little grateful prayer, I nod, then point at the entrance to the alley. “There. Park behind—”
“I know where you live, Sara. I was the one who gave your address to the shifter who attacked you.”
I bite my tongue instead of telling him he’s acted like a coward. It won’t do any good. In his mind, he’s doing what he must to get his family back. “How do you know they even have your mate and son? They could be lying to you, using your desperation to manipulate you into getting what they want.”
“They could be.” Nolan pulls in front of the gate to my yard. “But I’m willing to take that risk.”
“Risk?” I sound shocked and angry. I don’t care. I am shocked and angry. “You’re willing to sell me and Soren into slavery. That’s not a risk. It’s the act of a desperate man.”
“Determined sounds better. Let’s go with that.” Nolan turns off the car, gets out, and snatches the car seat from the back. Soren’s cries intensify. Nolan strides toward the gate, ignoring the wailing. I hurry to keep up and follow him up the stairs. He’s not watching me to make sure I don’t run or scream for help. He’s ignoring me.
He rams his shoulder into my kitchen door. The glass shatters. He reaches inside, and turns the dead bolt, opens the door, then enters. On a hard thump, he places the car seat on the table in the same spot where Ilan did the first night Soren stayed here. Memories skip across my mind, and the loss of Ilan hits me, threatening to destroy me. My eyes burn with unshed tears. There hasn’t been time to shed them.
“Cry later, Sara.” Nolan turns his back on me and heads to my living room, yanking the house line off the wall as he walks past it. “You have five minutes.”
After a moment, Nolan’s voice carries to me from the living room, him telling someone he’s been delayed a few minutes. I tune the conversation out. I tune everything out because Nolan’s right. I can cry later.
With my gaze on Nolan’s back, I rush to the counter and yank a knife from the wooden block. Although tempted to lunge at him now, I hurry back to Soren’s car seat and stash the knife under the plaid blanket, far enough out of reach he can’t touch the sharp edge. Soren’s cries stop for the briefest of moments. His gaze meets mine. I smile at him, letting him see my love and my determination to protect him, then turn away. Nolan’s expecting me to prep a bottle.
Soren’s cries resume, louder than before without my gaze on him. Everything I am demands I go back to him. Instead, I hurry through the motions of mixing the formula and warming the bottle under the stream of hot water. Nolan snatches it out of my hand just as steamy water flows from the tap.
“It’s warm enough.” He shoves the car seat at me, then turns off the tap. “Let’s go.”
I tuck the car seat under my arm and rest my other hand on top of Soren’s blanket. The outline of the knife’s hilt is under my palm. I flex my fingers, resisting the urge to grip the knife. Nolan’s walking away from me. It’d be foolish to attack him now. I ease my hand from the blanket and follow behind him. I’ll get one chance at saving us. Just one. I need to make it count.
Forty-One
Sara
I flick my gaze from the road to Soren. He’s nursing the bottle, drinking slower than usual. Maybe because
the formula is cold. Maybe because he senses I need time. Likely the first, but I feel as if I have support with my second thought. Facing this threat alone scares me. I’m not too proud to admit that. I’m not a fighter. I have to be tonight, however, and my moment is coming.
Five miles. That’s all. Once Nolan stops at the stop sign up ahead, I’ll make my move. In the meantime, the silence is allowing my guilt a chance to grow. I can’t let it take root. Soren is counting on me.
“What are they going to do with Soren?”
Nolan curses under his breath. I can’t see his expression from where I’m sitting behind him, but I’d bet there’s guilt on his face just as there was earlier when I convinced him to stop at my house so I could make a bottle for Soren. Guilt won’t stop Nolan, though. He might not like the idea of handing us over, but he will. I don’t doubt that.
“I didn’t ask. Don’t want to know.”
“Because if they admitted they planned on killing Soren, you’d feel guilty.”
Nolan snorts. “They wouldn’t go through this much trouble just to kill the kid. They would’ve had me do it. No, they want Brock’s son alive.”
For what, I can’t fathom. Some kind of experiment, probably. Nolan won’t care about that fate either. There’s a good chance his sons were experimented on too. And if these shifters are willing to give them back, those experiments likely hadn’t been successful. “And me? What are they going to do with me?”
“Don’t know. Don’t…” Nolan doesn’t finish his sentence. He steps on the gas pedal, sending the car lurching forward.
I slide the knife from under my thigh where I hid it after we started driving and curl my fingers around the hilt. “Say it, Nolan. Go ahead. Say you don’t care. And once you do, I’ll call you a liar.”
“I’ll do anything to save my family, Sara. It’s nothing personal.” Nolan slows the car, the stop sign looming ahead of us.
“Me too, Nolan. It’s nothing personal.” The car comes to a stop, and I make my move.
I lean forward and slam the knife into the side of Nolan’s neck. A gurgling noise escapes his mouth. He jerks forward. I shove harder, with everything I have, and twist the serrated blade until it scrapes against bone. Blood gushes over my hand. Tears run down my face. Still, I keep pushing on the knife until the hilt reaches Nolan’s skin and he stops moving. He slumps to the side. The car lurches forward.
I scream and reach between the seats. A hard shove on the gearshift drops the transmission into Park, jerking the car and nearly tossing me into the front seat. With sobs shaking my chest, I scramble out of the car and open the driver’s door. Blood covers the man I’ve shared coffee and conversations with. I avoid looking into his face, not wanting to remember his smile, release the seat belt, and grab his arm. With my heels pressing into the pavement, I tug, trying to pull him out of the driver’s seat. He doesn’t budge. I grunt, yanking harder until a cry of frustration escapes me. I can’t move him. I’m not strong enough.
The featherlight touch on my hand rips a scream from my throat. Nolan’s finger moves again. He’s healing faster than I expected, and I’m here alone with an innocent life. Using two hands, I whip the knife forward, ripping a gash in Nolan’s throat that would’ve killed a human. Nolan’s not human, though. He’s an immortal shifter. As gruesome as the wound I’ve caused looks, he’s going to heal.
Soren and I need to be out of here before that happens.
I scrub my bloody hands on my jeans, then unbuckle Soren from the car seat. He’s no longer crying. He’s watching me with the same intensity he did in that brief moment at my house. He trusts me to save him. I can’t fail him.
With Soren bundled in the plaid blanket, I press him to my chest and run back the way we came. We’re miles from town and miles from Ilan’s house, but if we’re lucky, Dante’s coming for us. Or Uri. They might not be Ilan’s pack mates, but they cared for him—loved him—like he was a member of their families. They’d fight for what he’s left behind too. I don’t doubt that. Both men would die to protect me and Soren. And few bonds in this world are stronger than those forged in love.
Forty-Two
Sara
Darkness surrounds me. Miles and miles of darkness. No matter which way I turn, unmoving, tall, and silent sentinels block my path, forcing me to fumble for an opening between the trees.
It’s my dream, only different. I recognize the similarities—the sorrow, the fear—but Soren’s presence ups the stakes. There’s no room for the debilitating emotions. I push them aside and focus on my goal—getting Soren to safety. Nothing else matters.
With one arm outstretched and one locking Soren tightly to my chest, I run blindly, stumbling and sliding on the frost-covered leaves. The underbrush stabs me through my jeans. More sharp bites of pain. More time wasted.
On a harsh grunt, I plow through the thickets, not knowing how deep this section is or where it’ll lead me, but only knowing I can’t stop. I can’t go back. All I can do is go forward.
Lurching from the patch of dry, deadened shrubs, I whack my shoulder against another wide tree. A cry crawls up my throat as numbness radiates down my arm. I clench my jaw, refusing to allow the sound to escape. I don’t need to make it any easier to find me. My trail of blood and tears is enough.
The sounds of breaking twigs reach me. I glance over my shoulder, but all I see is darkness. Even the thicket I waded through is swallowed by the night. With Soren’s small hands clutching my shirt, I focus on the light of the moon breaking through the trees ahead of me, my beacon in the night, and run faster.
A tree branch smacks into my lower belly, tearing a rough sound from me. I hunch over, saying a thankful prayer that the branch hit me and not Soren. Running blind is going to kill us. Stopping will too. Our lives are on the line, even if those other shifters have no intention of killing Soren. Nothing they plan will be good for him.
A distant wolf’s howl cuts through the night, mixing with the raw vulgar curse of the man chasing me. I’m out of time and out of options.
The sense of failure chokes me, filling my eyes with tears. I blink them back, refusing to allow my frustration to be the reason I lose Soren.
My chest heaves and my muscles burn, but I clear the tree line. An open field greets me. One scan of the area and my heart drops to my stomach. Glowing eyes watch me. Dozens of glowing eyes. Bears, lions, and wolves step from the shadows.
And I don’t even have a knife.
A hand settles on my shoulder. I spin, stepping out of reach, and face Nolan. The knife I shoved in his neck is gone, but blood remains. A lot of blood. He’s soaked in it. And he still came after me.
Defeat sits heavy in my heart. I fought with everything I have, but it wasn’t enough. I can’t give up, though. Ilan wouldn’t if he was here. He’d fight until he took his last breath. I glare at Nolan, letting him see what I think of him. This is all I have left. “You’re not worthy of your family! You know that? You’re a pathetic excuse of a man who’s shamed your mate and sons!”
“Nice speech, and I agree. Nolan’s a pathetic fool, especially if he thinks we’ll keep our promise.”
The deep male voice from right behind me tears a gasp from my throat. I pivot and take in the ugly, twisted face of my enemy.
“You are too. You—”
A hard slap to my cheek knocks me to the side and stops my disparaging comment.
“Enough.” The other shifter leans close and lowers his voice. “Hand over the kid, human. You lost.”
“What are you going to do to him?” I wrap both my arms around Soren.
“Kill him on the night of the full moon. Our witch thinks she can capture his wolves’ souls since he doesn’t have a tie to an alpha.”
“Kill him?” Tears clog my voice.
“Yep.” The bastard smiles. “Kill h—”
Blood sprays over me and Soren. The shifter’s headless body drops to the ground. Nolan shoves me the way I came. “Run, Sara. Run!”
I don
’t question Nolan’s order. I follow it, running as fast as I can.
Death has found us. And lost. At least right in this moment, and without Ilan, surviving one moment at a time is the best I can hope for.
Forty-Three
Ilan
The scent of blood directs me. In my white wolf’s form, I run, seeming to fly over the forest floor. Never have I moved this fast, or with such a focused drive compelling me forward. With each mile I cover, however, the sense of urgency grows. Sara’s fear has morphed into acceptance. And that scares me. If Sara has reached the point of defeat, she’s in grave danger without any other options.
Roars and snarls reach me from off in the distance. I zero in on the battle playing out and race into a clearing where several shifted lions, bears, and wolves surround Nolan in his werewolf form. He digs his clawed hand into the flank of a wolf and flings the shifter into the path of a bear trying to get around him. The bear shifter is not a friend of mine. Neither are any of the lions or wolves. I take it all in, along with the obvious conclusion—Nolan decided to fight for Sara and Soren—then focus on the path through the forest behind him. Sara’s blood and pain drifts from the woods.
I leap over the bodies littering the ground and plow past Nolan. He doesn’t stop me. He lunges for another wolf about to come after me.
The trampled underbrush tells the tale of what I’ve missed. Sara went this way. She’s not here, though. I need to get to her. I inhale, drawing in the scents lingering on the breeze, and turn. Another path leads off to the left. I take it, pushing my wolf’s body to the point of exhaustion, then allow my black wolf to emerge.
