Ash
Oh god. Oh god.
Pain steals my breath.
This is it.
This is how I fucking die. On an old stone patio I helped Morgan and his dad build over ten years ago.
An ear-splitting roar fills the air around us.
Screams sound from beside me, and I’m shoved to the side as Jet lunges towards us so fast, he’s nothing but a blur of movement.
The zip ties snap with a sharp pull on my wrists.
Jet.
I’m not quick enough to get my hands out in front of me, so there’s no way to break my fall. I land heavily on my side, barely managing to keep my head from hitting the paving stones. Blood trickles down my throat—Hayes didn’t cut across, but he cut deep enough that I’m still bleeding.
“Ash, run,” Jet snarls, fighting off three guys armed with knives.
His teeth are far longer than they should be, giving his jaw a slightly distended appearance, and he looks like something out of a horror film.
It’s both fascinating and horrific, pinning me in place until he roars again as one of the blades finds its mark.
I can’t fucking leave him, but I’m gonna be useless in a fight.
“Run!” Jet orders, slashing out with claws instead of fingernails, catching Hayes across his shoulder. He stumbles back, but there are three others to take his place. I can’t see Stokes and Wilson anymore, but it’s still four against one.
And the last thing he needs is to worry about me.
I turn towards the gap in the hedge and run.
This time I make it all the way through without anyone pulling me back and stumble out into the relative safety of the forest beyond. Like I said before, I know these woods like the back of my hand, and I know exactly where to go to hide out until help gets here.
It takes me about ten steps to realise that it’s been a few years since I was here last, and a lot’s changed in that time.
The path we used to take to our secret hideout is so overgrown, I’m second-guessing if it’s even the right one at all.
Branches snag at my clothes and my hair, and I bat them out of the way with my brace. Finally useful for something.
It takes me longer than I remember to reach a fork in the path that leads to the den we built out of sticks and old wood.
I take one step when an agonised cry pierces the air and I skid to a halt, heart pounding.
It sounded like a wounded animal.
But also human.
Jet.
Fuck.
I turn to go back, ripping off my brace. I don’t care if I break the fucking thing, I can’t leave him to die, and that’s exactly what it sounded like.
Another cry follows, far worse than the one before, and I start to run, only to freeze in place when a chorus of angry roars answer it.
They’re here.
Relief is instant and so very welcome. I sag against the nearest tree trunk to catch my breath. The sounds of fighting reach me, and I startle at the sound of a gunshot echoing through the trees.
Should I go back?
I don’t want to become a liability if they’re all fighting. Don’t want to distract Callum and get him hurt . . . or worse. But hiding out here while they fight for their lives feels wrong.
Cowardly.
And that’s not who I am. Or who I want to be.
Going back it is, because I couldn’t live with myself if any of them were lying there injured and I did nothing to help.
Retracing my steps is easier since I left a trail of broken branches and trampled grass. The snap of a twig up ahead halts me in my tracks and I stop breathing as a huge brown-and-white wolf steps out into my path.
It tilts its head and I grin because it looks so much like Morgan in that moment.
It’s got to be him, right? My memory of his wolf form isn’t the best—I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to appreciate it.
But it’s not like it’s attacked me yet, hasn’t shown any sign of aggression.
They can understand me in this form. At least I’m pretty sure that’s what Morgan told me.
Only one way to find out. “Morgan?” I hold my ground just in case.
The wolf tilts his head again, then its tongue lolls out, lips curling up in what kind of looks like a smile.
“Thank fuck,” I breathe, then hurry towards him.
“You had me worried for a minute there. Where are the othe—” The words die on my tongue as I realise the eyes looking back at me are nothing like Morgan’s.
And if there’s one thing I remember about that day at the Wild Wolves compound, it’s that even in wolf form, I knew it was still him.
I stare at the wolf in front of me, wondering just who the fuck I’m looking at when the air around him sort of shimmers, blurring his form for a split second as he changes back to his human form.
It looks as painful as it did the first time I witnessed it, but all that takes a backseat because my suspicions are suddenly confirmed in the worst fucking way.
That’s not Morgan.
He’s about as far from Morgan as you can get, and I can’t help but take a step back. Then another.
“Don’t leave on my account.” Jason Birch grins at me, teeth looking sharper than they should.
Dread trickles down my spine, settling like lead in my belly. “They’re coming for me.” I’m amazed at how I get that out without my voice shaking, because I’m fucking terrified.
“They are,” Birch agrees, then shrugs. “But they won’t get here in time.”
I don’t want to ask it out loud, afraid of the answer, but the words fall out anyway. “In time for what?”
Birch laughs as he sidles closer. The wind seems to change direction, the breeze picking up and rustling the leaves in the surrounding branches.
Birch pauses mid-step, inhaling sharply, before his grin widens, teeth too sharp to be human fully on display now.
He cocks his head to the side, studying me.
“That’s an interesting new development.”
The bond.
I don’t know why I’m surprised he smells it on me. Cal said his pack would smell it as soon as they got near him. Why should Birch be any different?
Except it is for me.
He’s not my friend or Cal’s pack.
He’s the monster who bit and turned Morgan without his permission and then sold him into a fight ring.
My skin crawls as Birch drags his gaze over me from head to toe and back again, catching on the bite mark Cal left on me. I want to tug my T-shirt up to cover it, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he’s affecting me.
I realise the idiocy of that statement the second I think it.
He’s a shifter.
He can smell every reaction my body’s having to his proximity.
To his words.
Fuck it.
I adjust my collar enough to cover Cal’s mark, and Birch laughs again.
“I was hoping for Morgan.” Every step brings him closer to me. Running would be pointless, might even provoke the animal in him, so against every instinct I have, I remain still.
My pulse, on the other hand, is off and running like an Olympic sprinter nearing the finish line.
“He caused all this fucking mess in the first place.”
“You bit him,” I snap, anger warring with the terror flooding my veins as he draws to a stop in front of me. He’s got a couple of inches on me as well as about a stone in muscle. I have to look up to meet eyes that flash with anger.
“If he’d died in the fucking woods like he was supposed to, I’d still have a fucking pack and none of this would’ve happened.”
I gape at him.
Is he for real right now?
Pointing out the flaw in his logic seems like a monumentally stupid idea, so I bite my tongue. I shuffle backwards, hoping he won’t notice. His eyes are a little unfocused, like he’s lost in a memory, and sure enough, he doesn’t react when I put some distance between us.
I strain to hear what’s happening back at Morgan’s old place.
There’ve been no more roars or cries of pain, and I pray that means the fight is over and Cal and the others won, because I know he’ll have come for me. And maybe if I can keep Birch talking, keep us here in the forest, it’ll give them time to get to me.
Birch snaps out of it suddenly. “Shit,” he snarls, grabbing my wrist—my injured one—and yanking me after him as he turns and starts to run.
I gasp in pain as the bones grind, and whatever healing that brace did is wiped out by Birch’s brute force as he pulls me along.
He snarls at me over his shoulder. “Another sound and I’ll rip your tongue out.”
I snap my mouth closed, swallowing any rage-filled comeback, because I know he means it.
I stumble after him, losing my footing too many times to count as Birch sets a pace I can’t keep up with.
My wrist screams in agony every time he yanks on it to keep me upright, but I swallow every fucking sound as best I can, muffling my mouth against my shoulder when I just can’t fucking take it anymore.
We’re headed to the road.
I’m not sure exactly where we are, but I can see the treeline up ahead and I know the A483 runs along the back of this part of the forest.
Birch sees it too and picks up his pace. That must be his endgame.
I bet he has a car waiting, and that thought alone turns my blood cold.
Come on, Cal.
“Hurry,” Birch snaps, turning to flash his teeth at me.
He’s running too fast, though.
There’s no physical way I can keep up with the pace he’s setting.
My body finally gives out when he vaults a fallen tree like it’s nothing, and I go crashing into it, hitting the ground face first.
My shoulder wrenches when Birch doesn’t let go of my wrist, but I swallow the scream behind clenched teeth. He whirls around, rage-filled eyes promising murder as he hauls me to my feet. I don’t even get a chance to catch my breath before he backhands me so hard, I pass out.