29. Bianca
29
BIANCA
S o this is what it’s like to die , I think to myself as the cougar tenses, its muscles coiling beneath its sleek fur like springs ready to snap.
As I stare into the face of my own mortality, I curse myself for ever thinking I could escape, for believing that I could somehow outrun the fate that has been nipping at my heels since the day I became Rork’s bride.
I should have known better. I should have realized that there is no safety, no sanctuary to be found in this twisted game of cat and mouse. And now, because of my own stubborn pride and reckless desperation, I will never see my family again. I’ll never have the chance to tell them how much I love them, how much they mean to me.
My father will die never knowing what happened to me.
The thought is like a knife to the heart, a searing pain that steals the breath from my lungs and brings hot, stinging tears to my eyes. But before I can give in to the despair that threatens to consume me, before I can close my eyes and wait for the inevitable…
Rork appears out of nowhere like a goddamn guardian angel sent to snatch me from the jaws of death itself.
“Rork!” I cry out, unable to help myself as I watch him, stunned and horrified, take on the cougar with little more than his bare hands, his body a blur of motion as he grapples with the snarling, spitting beast. It’s a sight that defies belief, a display of raw strength and primal ferocity that I never could have imagined possible.
I mean, I knew Rork was strong. I saw him in the tournament. I saw the way he bested every challenger and finished the obstacle course in record time.
But this? This is something else entirely.
This is a man willing to risk everything, to put his own life on the line for the sake of another. For the sake of me .
And as I watch him struggle against the cougar, as I see the way its claws tear at his flesh and its fangs snap mere inches from his throat, I feel a surge of emotion unlike anything I’ve ever known. It’s fear and awe and gratitude all rolled into one, a dizzying cocktail of feelings that makes my head spin and my heart race.
“Bianca, run!” Rork screams, his voice raw with pain and desperation. “Get out of here, now !”
But I can’t. I can’t leave him, not like this. Not when he’s sacrificing everything to keep me safe.
And so I stay rooted to the spot, my eyes wide and my breath coming in shallow gasps as I watch the brutal dance of man and beast. Every snarl, every grunt, every heavy thud of bodies colliding sends a jolt of terror through my veins, a sickening reminder of just how close I am to losing the one person who has ever made me feel truly alive.
Because that’s what Rork is, I realize with sudden, stunning clarity. He’s not just my captor, not just the man who stole me away from everything I’ve ever known and loved.
He’s my savior. My protector.
And as I watch him now, pouring every ounce of his strength and his fury into this battle, I know that I can’t let him do it alone. The thought of losing him and watching him die right in front of my eyes is a terror that eclipses all else.
Just when I think all hope is lost and I’m sure that the cougar will tear Rork to shreds before my very eyes and then turn to me, Rork lets out a feral snarl of his own, his hand flashing out with blinding speed as he drives his blade deep into the cat’s side.
The beast howls in pain, its claws scrabbling frantically at Rork’s chest as it tries to break free. But Rork doesn’t relent. He stabs again and again, his arm rising and falling like a piston as he pours every ounce of his strength into the blows.
I should be terrified of the sight of him—his chest covered in claw marks, his face bathed in blood which makes the scar over his eyebrow and cheek stand out even more. But I’m not. I’m mesmerized.
After what feels like an eternity, the cougar’s struggles begin to weaken. Its howls turn to whimpers, its movements growing sluggish and uncoordinated as life drains from its body. With one final, shuddering gasp, the beast collapses on top of Rork, its weight pinning him to the ground in a tangle of fur and flesh.
And then… stillness. A silence so profound that it seems to swallow the very air around us, broken only by the ragged sound of my own breathing.
For a moment, I can’t move. I can’t think. All I can do is stare at the scene before me, my eyes wide and my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Rork?” I ask weakly, my voice trembling.
Because Rork… he’s not moving. He’s lying there, trapped beneath the cougar’s body, his legs still.
And in that instant, I’m sure that he’s dead. He’s sacrificed his own life to save mine, and I’ll never have the chance to thank him and tell him how much his courage and his strength have meant to me.
The thought is like a knife to the heart, a searing pain that steals the very breath from my lungs and brings hot tears to my eyes. But before I can give in to the grief that threatens to consume me…
The cougar starts to move.
It’s just a twitch at first, a spasm that ripples through its muscles like a shiver. But then it grows stronger, more pronounced, until the beast is writhing and thrashing on top of Rork’s still form.
My breath hitches. Oh, my God, the cougar is still alive.
I need to do something about it. If I don’t find a way to help Rork, it’ll take him with it.
The thought sends a jolt of pure, unadulterated panic through my veins, a fear so intense that it threatens to paralyze me where I stand. But I can’t let it. I can’t let the terror win, not when Rork’s life hangs in the balance.
Just as I’m about to throw myself into the fray, ready to do whatever it takes to save Rork, something miraculous happens. With a violent shove that seems to defy the very laws of physics, Rork manages to heave the heavy beast aside, its body rolling limply across the forest floor.
For a moment, I can only stare in shock and awe, my eyes wide and my mouth agape. But then Rork sits up, his chest heaving and his bloody knife still clenched in his fist, and the reality of what just happened comes crashing down on me like a tidal wave.
He’s alive. He’s hurt, and he’s covered in blood, but he’s alive .
The relief is so intense that it makes my knees weak, and I have to fight the urge to collapse right there on the spot. But before I can give in to the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume me, Rork’s eyes find mine, and the look on his face is enough to freeze me in my tracks.
“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice rough with pain and exhaustion.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. But even as I do, I can see the anger starting to build in his eyes, the fury that simmers just beneath the surface of his concern.
“Then why the fuck didn’t you run when I told you to?” he demands, his words sharp and biting.
I flinch at his tone, my heart racing as I try to find the right words to explain myself. Before I can even begin to formulate a response, a sudden, terrifying thought crosses my mind.
I should run. I should take this chance, while Rork is still weak and wounded, to make a break for it. But even as the idea takes root in my brain, I know that it’s futile because I have no idea which way to go. I have no clue how to find my way back to civilization.
And the last thing I need is to come up against another goddamn cougar.
Even if I did manage to run, there’s no doubt in my mind that Rork would catch me. He’s already proven that he’s more than capable of tracking me down and hunting me like the prey that I am. And after what I just witnessed, after seeing the way he took on that cougar with nothing but his bare hands and a knife?
I don’t stand a chance against him.
“I couldn’t leave you,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “Not after what you did for me. Not when you were risking your life to save mine.”
Rork’s green eyes narrow, and for a moment, I’m sure that he’s going to lash out at me.
But instead, he just shakes his head, a look of exasperation crossing his face. “You’re a goddamn fool, Bianca Marino,” he mutters, his words more weary than angry. “You could have gotten yourself killed out here, and for what? Some misguided sense of loyalty to a man who’s done nothing but make your life a living hell?”
I bristle at his words, my own anger rising to the surface like a flame. “You think I don’t know that?” I snap, my voice sharp and brittle. “You think I don’t realize how fucking stupid it was to run off into the woods like that, with no plan and no idea where I was going?”
I take a step toward him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “But what choice did I have, Rork? What was I supposed to do, just sit there and let you break me down until there was nothing left? Until I was nothing more than a shell of the person I used to be?”
Rork’s jaw clenches, and I can see the muscle ticking in his cheek. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to argue or defend himself.
Somehow, that only makes me angrier.
“You’re just as much of a danger to me as that fucking cougar was. Maybe even more so.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that rages inside me. “So no, Rork. I couldn’t run. I couldn’t leave you to die out here, no matter how much I might have wanted to. Because even after everything you’ve done and all the pain and fear and the misery you’ve put me through…”
I pause, my voice dropping to a murmur. “I still couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and loaded with a meaning that I’m not sure either of us fully understands.
Rork’s eyes darken, and he opens his mouth but then closes it before he tries to push himself to his feet. It’s a struggle, his movements slow and labored as he fights against the pain and exhaustion that must be threatening to overwhelm him.
That’s when I realize just how much blood there is. It’s everywhere , staining his clothes and matting his hair, his shirt shredded into ribbons, a vivid reminder of the brutal battle he just fought on my behalf.
The sight of it is enough to make my stomach churn, but even as I fight back the wave of nausea that rises in my throat, I can’t help but be struck by how incredibly good-looking Rork is, even in this state.
His blond hair is tousled and wild and his body, even covered in blood and dirt, is a work of art, all lean muscle and coiled strength.
But it’s his face that really stops me in my tracks. The scar that slashes across his brow and down his cheek only adds to his appeal, even though his face is covered in the cougar’s blood.
The scar is a mark of courage, his willingness to put himself in harm's way for the sake of another.
When he looks down at the cougar, his expression thoughtful and almost detached, I feel my heart skip a beat in my chest.
“I should bring this back to the mansion,” he murmurs, his voice rough with pain and exhaustion. “It would make a good rug.”
The words are so unexpected, so utterly at odds with the gravity of the situation, that I almost want to laugh. Before I can even begin to formulate a response, Rork stumbles, his legs giving out beneath him as he collapses to the ground in a heap.