23. Lynx #2
I want to wipe the smug expression of his stupid fucking face. No wonder Callum was in so much pain after Fox threw that dagger at him. This is a scratch in comparison, but it’s all I can focus on.
“We didn’t have any on hand to dose you before the fight,” he sneers. “So this will have to do.”
I don’t understand. “Dose me?”
He nods towards the cut on my arm. “In case you think about escaping. That’ll need an antidote in about an hour. We usually inject it.” His eyes gleam as he watches the blood drip from my arm to the ground. “Think I like this way more.”
The crowd’s getting restless.
I’m trying to block them out, but my focus is wavering. They’re not happy with the lack of fighting, and there’s even a few boos laced in amongst the quiet chatter.
Fox raises an eyebrow. “Better give them what they want, unless you want to end up like your friend.” He draws a finger across his throat.
I lunge for him, a red haze colouring my vision. That same tug pulls at me from deep inside and I fucking know what it is, but it’s like I can’t take that final step and shift .
Fox laughs as he dances back out of the way. Cheers ring out around us as he slices me with that fucking blade again. I snarl, shocked when there’s a wild, feral edge to it.
“Shift,” he hisses. “The collar’s designed to accommodate your other form.” He gestures to the crowd and grins. “They want to see it.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about them.” I lunge for him again, but he’s too quick on his feet. Too used to fighting like this, while I’m fucking clueless. I’ve never been in a fight, like, ever. I don’t even know how to throw a punch.
“Shift,” he says again, darting forwards, and I’m too slow to get out of the way. He cuts my T-shirt open, the edge of the blade leaving a shallow wound from my chest to my stomach.
Jesus fuck , it’s like acid being poured into my skin.
I stumble backwards, wiping at the blood and desperately trying to get the aconite out of me, but it doesn’t help.
And it hurts so bad.
My body’s on fire everywhere Fox cut me. My jaw throbs, and I try... I fucking try to pull on that thread, to yank my wolf to the surface, but nothing fucking happens. It’s like I’m missing the last part of the puzzle, and I don’t fucking know what it is.
I want Lynx.
I want him to hold me in his arms and tell me what the fuck I’m doing wrong.
I want him so much, the ache in my chest expands, barrelling outwards, consuming everything in its wake until it’s all I can fucking feel.
Lynx, help me.
I throw my head back and roar.
LYNX
The sound of a wolf in need echoes around the forest, pulling us up short.
Morgan.
I know it’s him. Every fibre of my being sings with the knowledge, but the raw desperation takes me out at the knees.
Grey catches me, grunting under the weight of a six-foot-four shifter. Flint hurries to help him before we both end up on the ground, and between them, they hold me upright long enough for me to pull myself together.
“It’s him,” I state, like they need an explanation, but maybe I need to say it out loud. To convince myself that he’s alive.
For now.
I shrug them off, but Flint catches my arm before I can move.
“We can’t just run in there.”
“He needs me,” I growl, wrenching my arm free.
“I know, but there’s a crowd of people between us and him and Goddess knows how many guards.” Flint makes sense, somewhere deep down I know that, but I don’t want to fucking hear it.
“He’s right,” Grey says, and he’s the last person I want to listen to right now.
I whirl to face him, teeth bared. “Fuck off,” I snarl and jab a finger in his face. “You’re the reason we’re in this fucking mess.” He’s not, I know he’s not, but I’m running on instinct, not logic right now.
“They’ll have silver-coated weapons,” he says calmly, like I’m not all up in his space, threatening him. “Possibly dipped in aconite too. When we were at the house with Fox, we saw their armoury. They have crossbows.” He waits for that to sink in.
I’ve never met hunters who use anything other than guns or blades. I glance around the forest. “Too many trees to make them a good weapon out here.”
“But if we run into that clearing, we’ll be sitting ducks.”
Cheers ring out ahead and terror grips me, skin too tight, like I can’t breathe.
But Grey’s right. We’re no good to Morgan if we get shot on sight with an aconite bolt.
It goes against every instinct coursing through my body right now, but I take the lead, making my way slowly and carefully through the forest towards the noise.
The wind isn’t on our side. If any shifters lurk in the forest, they’ll scent us first. Wishing I had Jet with us right now, his eyesight’s better than mine at night.
I hear the bolt leave the crossbow.
“Down,” I hiss, knocking Grey to the ground, trusting Flint to have heard what I did. I’ve got no fucking clue which one of us it’s aimed at, but then it hits the tree behind where Grey was, slamming into the trunk with a dull thud.
Fuck.
“I guess they know you’re here then,” I glance around, debating our next move.
“Wankers.” Grey spits but makes no move to get up.
“Me and Flint can outrun a bolt; you can’t.” I wait for him to object, but he just nods. “We’re going to draw their fire,” I tell him, hoping it’ll work because I’ve got nothing else. “Wait until they fire at us again, then run, see if you can get behind them.”
He nods again.
Right. I glance at Flint. “Ready?”
He grins, teeth white and on the wrong side of human. “Bring it.”
We set off at a sprint, making enough noise that they’ll be able to pick out our path, but hopefully not making it obvious that we’re leading them away from Grey. Just when I’m thinking I fucked up, I hear it.
The crossbow bolt whizzes through the air, barely missing Flint’s head as he dives to the side and rolls. We’re up and moving again before they’ve had time to reload, and I fucking hope Grey heard it too.
I don’t have time to worry about that right now, because at the speed we’re running, the fight ring’s coming up fast. After two bolts aimed our way, I’ve got a pretty good idea where the shooter is, and I lead Flint towards him.
Maybe not the best idea if he’s not on his own, but I’m pretty sure he is.
When we get to where I expect to find him, crossbow aimed at my face, Grey’s there instead, bloodied knife in one hand, dead hunter at his feet.
He wipes the blade on his sleeve and glances at the body. “That’s gonna be fun to explain.”
“Rather you than me,” Flint tells him, and I’m in total agreement.
“Anyone else out here?” Grey asks quietly.
I scent the air, listen for the telltale signs of movement, but with the fight ring so close, it’s hard to be sure. “I don’t think so.”
“Now what?”
We can’t put it off any longer. The rest of the guards will be at the cages holding the shifters and around the fight ring. We’re going to have to take our chances and hope we’re faster than them.
To shift or not though?
I’m stronger as my wolf, quicker. But not all that reasonable. I’ll be driven by instinct, rational thought taking a back seat, but maybe that’s not the worst idea at this stage.
I turn to Flint, eyebrows raised. “Shift or no?”
Before he can answer the decision’s made for me.
Another roar splits the air, just as soul destroying as the first, and I’m powerless to do anything other than let my wolf take the wheel as instinct kicks in. Clothes tear as I shift, falling to the ground in tattered pieces.
Morgan’s cry for help overrides every other thought in my head and I can’t fucking stop myself from tipping my head back and answering.
I’m coming.