Chapter 12 #2
I don’t wait for his response or for him to understand. I don’t wait for backup or a plan. I shift mid-stride, my wolf exploding out of me with such force that it’s almost violent. Without another thought, I begin running toward the town, my rage terrifying even myself.
There’s a tugging sensation in my chest, like an invisible rope pulling me forward, and my wolf follows it without question. I don’t understand how or why, but every stride carries me closer to that fading pulse, the terrible wrongness that tells me I’m running out of time.
The streets of Turnville blur past me as I race through the shadowy night. Seth’s wolf form pounds behind me, but I don’t slow down. Can’t slow down. That pulse is getting weaker with every second, and my wolf is going insane with the need to reach her.
Then, I hear it.
A scream. Raw, primal, filled with the kind of wild grief that cuts straight through bone and into the soul. It’s Astra’s voice, but broken, shattered in a way that makes my wolf howl. The sound is pure anguish, wordless and devastating, the cry of someone whose heart is being torn apart.
I instinctively know something has happened to Luna.
Rage explodes through me like wildfire. Not the cold, calculated anger I’m used to—this is primal, volcanic, the kind of fury that tears civilizations apart. My wolf snarls and snaps at anything in our path, desperate to reach her, desperate to kill whatever’s causing pain to our—
The thought confuses me for half a second. Our what?
But my wolf doesn’t hesitate. Ours, it snarls in my mind. She’s ours.
The possessiveness in that single word should frighten me, but instead, I find myself agreeing completely. Yes. She is ours. From the moment I stepped out of the shadows to protect her from her own packmates, she became mine.
Another sound cuts through the darkness—weaker this time, the sound of flesh striking flesh—and that pulse in my chest flickers like a dying flame. Through whatever this connection is, I can feel her slipping away from me.
The sound is coming from a run-down inn at the end of the street. I can smell fear radiating from the building, hear the sounds of a struggle. Someone is hurting her. Someone is putting their hands on what belongs to us.
My wolf’s fury reaches a crescendo that borders on madness. Kill them, it demands. Kill them all for touching what’s ours.
I hit the inn’s front door at full speed. The wood splinters around me as I crash through, my wolf form barely contained in the narrow hallway. The terrified inn owner stumbles backward, his face white with shock.
“What the fuck?! Jesus Christ—wolves! There are wolves in my—”
I jerk my head toward Seth, who is right behind me. He understands immediately, shifting to human form as I bound toward the stairs. The inn owner undoubtedly knows one of his guests is being attacked, and he is doing nothing about it. Seth will deal with him.
I don’t wait. The tugging sensation is stronger now, pulling me upward, and my ears have already locked onto the sounds above—voices, weaker now. The thud of boots on floorboards. Male voices, cold and professional.
“Stop fighting. You’re only making this worse for yourself.”
The casual cruelty in those words makes my vision go red.
My wolf roars for blood, for vengeance, for the right to tear apart everyone who dared touch what’s ours.
I take the stairs three at a time, my claws gouging deep furrows in the wood.
Behind me, I hear the inn owner start to scream, but he is cut off abruptly.
I reach the landing, and the sounds are clearer now. A door at the end of the hall. I can smell blood—Astra’s blood—and something else. Fear. Pain. The acrid stench of violence against what’s mine.
Ours, my wolf snarls. She’s ours and they’re hurting her. Kill them. Kill them all.
“That’s it. Just relax. Stop fighting.”
The voice that responds is barely a whisper, so weak I almost miss it. So broken it makes my chest cave in.
My wolf doesn’t hesitate. I launch myself at the door with every ounce of strength I have. The wood tears open like it’s made of paper, and the scene that greets me stops my heart.
Astra is on the floor, barely conscious, blood streaming from her nose and mouth. Her beautiful face is swollen and bruised. She is curled on her side, arms wrapped protectively around her torso, each breath coming in shallow, labored gasps.
But it’s her eyes that destroy me. Those bright green eyes that once sparkled with life and hope are now glassy and unfocused, the light in them fading like dying embers.
One eye is blackened and nearly swollen shut.
She is staring at nothing, seeing nothing, and I can feel through our pulsing connection that she’s slipping away from me.
In the corner, so still that it makes my chest tighten, lies Luna. Her small, black body is contorted in a horrible way, and I sense immediately that she’s barely clinging to life.
Two large men stand over Astra. One holds shackles that gleam like silver in the lamplight. The other is wiping blood from his knuckles.
Standing behind them is a man who can only be Andrew Crew. Next to him is another man, older, wearing expensive clothes and too many rings. He’s holding a fucking collar, ornate and golden, clearly meant for a neck.
For her neck. For the neck of the woman who belongs to us.
All the men freeze at the sight of me—a massive wolf standing in the doorway, wood splinters scattered around my paws, fury radiating from every line of my body. Terror flashes across their faces as they realize what they’re up against.
But even through the red haze of fury that threatens to consume me, all I can focus on is the woman on the floor. The way her chest barely rises and falls. The way her eyes stare at nothing, empty of everything that made her Astra.
The pulse in my chest—our bond—is growing weaker with every passing second.
And then, I catch it. Her scent. Not the blood, not the fear, not the pain—but underneath all of that, her true scent. It feels like coming home, like finding the other half of my soul.
Mate, my wolf howls in recognition and desperation. Our mate.
Buried under the scent I became so accustomed to is something else, something more primal. I can only smell wisps of it, tainted with old magic. But it’s enough for me to identify the cause of my wolf’s restlessness.
Astra is my fated mate.
And she’s dying.
The possessive protectiveness I’ve felt for so long crystallizes into an absolute certainty: this woman belongs to me, and I will destroy anyone who harms her.
The first man drops the shackles and tries to run. He makes it two steps before I’m on him, my teeth closing around his throat. The taste of his blood fills my mouth, hot and metallic, but it doesn’t satisfy my wolf. Nothing will satisfy it except all their deaths.
I tear his throat out in one savage motion and drop his body, already turning toward the next target. The second man has pulled out a knife and is brandishing it shakily.
“Stay back!” he shouts, his voice cracking with terror. “I’ll kill you!”
I don’t even slow down. His blade catches me across the shoulder, but I barely feel it. My jaws close around his wrist, and the sound of bones snapping is wet and satisfying. His scream, high and desperate, cuts off when my claws open his chest.
The older man holding the collar is backing toward the window. His rings catch the light as his hands tremble, and I can smell the fear in his sweat, acrid and sharp.
“Please!” he babbles, letting the golden collar fall to the floor with a clatter. “Please don’t kill me! I have money—lots of money! Whatever you want, I can pay you!”
I shift mid-leap, my human form allowing me to grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall.
“You can take her!” he gasps desperately. “Take the girl! She’s yours! I don’t want anything to do with this anymore!”
“She’s not merchandise,” I snarl, my voice barely recognizable with the fury in it. “She’s my mate.”
His eyes widen with understanding and terror.
“Mate? No, that’s impossible. She’s latent.
She can’t…” He shakes his head before continuing desperately, “This wasn’t my idea!
It was all Andrew! He’s the one who planned this, who brought her here!
I was just—I was just the buyer! Please, I’ll give you everything I have! ”
I don’t let him finish. My hand tightens around his throat, crushing his windpipe slowly. I want him to suffer. I want him to know exactly why he’s dying.
“You were going to take what belongs to me,” I say, my voice a deadly whisper. “You planned to collar her like an animal. To sell her children as pets.”
He tries to speak, but only choking sounds emerge. His face turns purple, his eyes bulging.
I slam his head against the wall once, twice, until I hear the loud pop of his skull fracturing. I let his body drop to the floor and focus my rage on the last man standing.
Andrew has pressed himself into a corner, whimpering and shaking like a coward. His face is white with terror, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sharp scent of urine suddenly fills the air; he has pissed himself in fear.
“Please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “Please, I never meant—She came to me. I didn’t force—”
I don’t let him finish. In one swift motion, I grab his outstretched hand and bend his index finger backward until it snaps. The sound echoes through the room.
His scream is high and desperate, but I press my other hand over his mouth, muffling his agony.
“The only reason you’re still breathing,” I whisper against his ear, my tone ice cold, “is because I want you to suffer before you die.”
I release his mouth and grab his middle finger, applying pressure until I feel the bone start to give.
“No, please—” he gasps, but I break the finger with another satisfying snap.
More screams, more tears streaming down his face.