Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
S carlett’s heart leaped as Finnar burst into the clearing, his powerful form little more than a blur as he raced towards her. Relief flooded her, but it was quickly followed by fear as she remembered the hunter’s cold smile when he’d tied her to the boulder.
“Careful,” she whispered as Finnar’s claws sliced through the ropes binding her wrists. “He’s watching.”
She glimpsed movement in the bushes behind him—the hunter rising to his feet, bow already drawn.
“Look out!” she screamed.
Finnar started to turn, but not quite fast enough. The arrow that had been intended for his heart struck his shoulder with a sickening thud. Blood immediately began to stain his shirt, spreading outward from the wound in an alarming crimson circle.
A gasp escaped her throat as his features contorted, his transformation triggered by the pain and threat. His face elongated, fangs extending as grey fur rippled across his skin. The sight both terrified and fascinated her—this was her mate in his true form, defending her.
His snarl echoed through the clearing as he whirled to face the hunter. The man had turned deathly pale but was already drawing his knife. She struggled against the remaining ropes binding her ankles, desperate to help somehow, but they were too tight and she couldn’t free herself before he launched himself at the hunter with terrifying speed.
Her fingers trembled as she worked at the knots binding her ankles. The sound of Finnar’s howl sent chills down her spine—not from fear of him, but from the raw power and rage contained in that sound. The arrow still protruded from his shoulder, but he moved as if he couldn’t feel it, his muscles rippling beneath his grey fur as he charged at the hunter.
The ropes finally gave way and she stumbled to her feet, her heart pounding against her ribs as she raced after him. The hunter’s knife glinted in the sunlight as he slashed wildly at Finnar, but her mate was too fast, too strong. In one fluid motion, he knocked the blade away and slammed the hunter to the ground.
Blood trickled down his arm from the arrow wound as he pinned the hunter beneath him. He raised his hand, claws extended, ready to tear out the hunter’s throat. The hunter’s eyes widened in terror, his breath coming in sharp gasps.
“No!” She grabbed his arm, feeling the tension beneath her fingers. “Please don’t.”
His head snapped around, those glowing blue eyes fixed on her face. Up close, she could see the way his features had shifted— more lupine than Vultor—but she wasn’t afraid. This was still her Finnar.
“If you kill him, others will come,” she said softly. “They’ll hunt you down.”
A low growl rumbled from his chest, his clawed hand still raised. The hunter whimpered beneath him.
“Please,” she whispered, tightening her grip on his arm. “Don’t let him make you into what he thinks you are.”
She kept her hand on Finnar’s arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. His fur was surprisingly soft beneath her fingers, but she could sense the deadly power coiled beneath.
“If you kill him they’ll come after you,” she repeated. “They won’t stop until they hunt you down.”
Another growl rumbled through his chest, his claws still poised over the hunter’s throat. The hunter had gone completely still, barely breathing.
“Please.” She pressed closer, sliding her hand up to his shoulder. “Don’t give them a reason.”
His eyes remained fixed on the hunter, but she saw the flicker of conflict cross his face. His features shifted slightly, caught between his two forms as he struggled with the decision. She knew that his need to protect her warred with his more rational side—she could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the slight tremor that ran through his body.
“I won’t let him hurt you again,” he growled, his voice deeper and rougher in this form.
“I know.” She stroked his arm gently. “But killing him isn’t the answer.”
His chest heaved as he drew in a ragged breath. The strain showed clearly on his face now as he fought against his beast’s instincts. She held her breath, hoping she’d gotten through to him.
Her heart pounded as he slowly lowered his claws. His muscles were still rigid beneath her touch, but the murderous rage had faded from his eyes. He kept his gaze locked on the hunter as he rose to his feet, pulling her protectively behind him.
With swift, precise movements, he gathered the hunter’s remaining arrows, snapping each one in half, the sharp crack of breaking wood punctuating the tense silence. The knife followed, the metal shrieking as Finnar’s claws shredded it into useless fragments.
“Leave.” His voice was still rough, more beast than human. “If you ever return to these woods, I won’t be so merciful.”
The hunter scrambled backwards, his earlier bravado completely vanished. His face had gone chalk-white, his eyes wide with terror as he stared up at Finnar. He nodded frantically, stumbling to his feet.
“I-I won’t come back,” he stammered. “I swear.”
They watched as the hunter limped away, occasionally glancing over his shoulder as if afraid Finnar would change his mind. His footsteps faded into the distance until only the sounds of the forest remained, and her shoulders sagged with relief. Her hands were still trembling from the aftermath of fear and adrenaline.
Finnar turned towards her, his features softening as he reached for her. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as the movement jarred his shoulder. Blood had soaked through his shirt around the arrow wound, the fabric glistening wetly in the fading light.
“We need to get back to your den.” She examined the injury with growing concern. The arrow had gone all the way through the thick muscle. “That needs to be cleaned and bandaged properly.”
“It’s nothing,” he growled, but she saw the way his jaw clenched, betraying his pain.
“Don’t be stubborn.” She touched his uninjured arm gently. “Please. Let me help you.”
His expression wavered between pride and need before he gave a short nod. The fact that he didn’t argue further told her just how much the wound hurt him.
The path back to his den seemed longer than before. She kept close to his side, watching for any sign that he might stumble. His movements were still graceful but she could see the tension in his body, the careful way he held himself to avoid jarring his shoulder.
By the time they reached the den, her heart was pounding with fear. His skin had taken on an ashen tone, and his steps had grown increasingly unsteady. She’d never seen him look vulnerable before, and it terrified her.
He stumbled through the doorway, collapsing onto the bed platform. His breath came in shallow gasps, his eyes glazed with pain.
“The arrow.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Cut off the head. Pull it straight out.”
Her stomach lurched at the thought, but she nodded. “I understand.”
“Have to be quick,” he mumbled, his eyes starting to close. “Before it heals wrong.”
She grabbed her satchel with trembling hands, pulling out the small knife her grandmother had packed. The metal gleamed in the dim light as she approached the bed.
His eyes had already closed, his breathing ragged but steady. Blood had spread across his shirt, the arrow shaft protruding at an awkward angle.
Taking a deep breath, she grasped the arrow shaft. Her hands shook as she positioned the knife against the wood, just above where it disappeared into his flesh. The thought of causing him more pain made her feel ill, but she couldn’t hesitate. Not now.