Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
“The white wolf’s den is here,” Raven said. “Across the clearing.”
Dekker sneered. “You better not be lying, you little—”
“I’m not lying.” She pointed straight ahead, into the shadows of the trees on the other side of the clearing.
The Headhunters moved around her and entered the clearing, their legs swishing through the thick damp ferns. They spread out, rifles up, scanning to the left and right.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning splintered the sky. Raindrops splattered her face, soaking her hair.
It was a huge risk to bring the Headhunters here. She didn’t know what else to do. She was out of options. No other moves to play but this one.
It was a desperate move—a rash, reckless, foolhardy choice in an array of awful choices, each worse than the last.
There was one slim chance to get out of this alive.
If it didn’t work, at least she would die on her terms.
Adrenaline flared through her veins. Her tense gaze swept the tree line. She strained her ears, listening hard for any sounds over the drum of the rain.
There was nothing to hear.
There was nothing to see.
There wouldn’t be. Not until it was too late.
“Over here!” Scorpio called. His voice was unusually high and shaky. He’d wandered across the clearing and now stood behind the Mountain Laurel bush.
Something lay crumpled beneath the large bush near the opposite edge of the clearing. The sodden fishing hat, brown as dirt, barely visible through the sheeting rain.
Scorpio pointed at something on the other side.
Raven knew what it was.
He’d found the body. Or what was left of it.
And there, a few yards from the bush, beneath the shagbark hickory trees—something else glinted wetly. The rifle she’d been forced to leave behind.
Dekker, Vaughn, and Cobb crossed the clearing to join Scorpio. Dekker and Vaughn swore. Cobb stumbled backward, hand over his mouth in disgust and horror. His face went ashen beneath his beard. He turned his head and retched.
“So that’s what happened to Gomez,” Dekker said.
“Those damn wolves tore him to pieces,” Vaughn said in awe. Like he was impressed rather than horrified.
Raven clenched her jaw and said nothing.
The Headhunters milled around the wide matted circle of the kill.
“Here’s an arm,” Scorpio said.
“I found a leg,” Cobb called.
If she ran now, she wouldn’t get far. They’d hunt her down easily.
Raven eyed her rifle beneath the trees, lying in the underbrush. It was visible only if you knew where to look. Twenty yards, if that.
She would have to run straight across the clearing, grab the rifle, and start shooting before the Headhunters could reach her.
Even then, she might take down one or two, perhaps three if she were lucky, but there were ten of them. Too many.
Unless, of course, they were otherwise engaged.
She yanked at the plastic bindings digging painfully into her wrists. The rifle was a moot point without her hands free. It wouldn’t be easy to get to the whittling knife stuffed into her pocket, and she needed the knife to cut the zip ties.
Approaching footsteps commanded her attention. She glanced up. Vaughn and Dekker strode toward her. Vaughn’s face was a mask of rage in the rain. “Bring her here!”
Beside her, Damien tensed. He stepped in front of her. “For what?”
Dekker’s flinty eyes shone with sadistic anticipation. They were dark as beetle shells. “Time for this little slut to make good on her promises. If she can.”
“I told you,” Raven said. “The den is just past the hickory trees on the other side of the clearing. I swear it.”
“We looked over there. No den,” Dekker said.
Damien’s jaw pulsed. He tightened his grip on her arm. “Leave her alone.”
“Where’s the den?” Vaughn kept his gaze laser-focused on Raven. He barely glanced at Damien. “I’m only going to ask you once.”
Raven’s heart hammered against her bruised ribs. “It’s here, just through the trees—”
Dekker’s eyes narrowed. “Liar.”
“I told you what would happen if you played me.” Vaughn’s tone flattened. He nodded at Dekker. “She’s all yours."
Dekker’s smile bristled with sharp white teeth. “With pleasure.”
“Stop it!” Damien cried. “Don’t touch her. You can’t hurt her.”
Dekker snorted. “You going soft on us, boy?”
“This isn’t part of the deal—”
Vaughn said, “There is no deal.”
Damien looked shocked. “But you said—"
Dekker shot him a contemptuous look. “Don’t you get it? She’s trash. She’s a whore. She’s nothing. She’s not one of us. Now shut the hell up and give her to me.”
Fear flashed in Damien’s eyes. He didn’t shrink back. He opened his mouth, closed it. His jaw clenched. Every word he spoke seemed to cost him something. “And if I don’t?”
Dekker sneered. “How about I gut you both? That what you want? To die with this trashy little whore?”
“Watch yourself, Dekker.” Vaughn’s voice went cold and hard. He cared nothing for Raven, but Dekker had insulted his nephew. He didn’t like that. “Damien, give him the girl.”
Damien hesitated. His sharp eyes flicked uncertainly between Vaughn and Raven.
The rest of the Headhunters stood silent and unmoving. The rain beat down on them all.
Damien reached for the gun at his hip. “No.”
“Damien!” Vaughn said. “Put that thing away before you get hurt and step aside. Last warning.”
Dekker didn’t give Damien a chance to obey. He sprang at Damien and shoved him, tearing the gun from Damien’s grasp in one fluid movement and tossing it away.
Damien went sprawling. He landed hard on his butt, flattening several ferns.
Before Raven could react, Dekker unsheathed his hunting knife, grabbed the back of her head, and pressed the blade to her throat.
“Stop!” Damien pulled himself to his feet, wiping the mud from his pants. He frantically searched for his pistol, hidden in the tall ferns. “Leave her alone!”
Scorpio drew his pistol and aimed it at Damien’s chest. “Don’t move!”
“Don’t hurt her!”
“Enough!” Vaughn held up a hand to stop his nephew. His other hand rested on the strap of his hunting rifle. “Think, now. Don’t do something you’ll regret, son.”
Damien went still. He stood silent, muddy and rain-slicked, his face anguished. He was weaponless, as helpless as Raven in Dekker’s grasp.
Lightning lit the underbelly of the clouds. Torrents of rain poured down.
The edge of the blade scraped Raven’s throat with every swallow. Terror clawed at her with cold, frantic fingers.
She’d miscalculated. Vlad wasn’t here. For whatever reason, the tiger had abandoned his kill early and moved on to greener pastures.
It was over.
She’d gambled and lost.
Vaughn glared at her. “For the last time, where is the damned wolf?”
The knife blade jabbed into her throat. She blinked wetness from her eyes and raised her chin in defiance. She was going to die, but she hadn’t given them everything.
They hadn’t won. She’d made sure of that.
“The wolves aren’t here. They got away. You’ll never find them. You failed.”
Vaughn’s face darkened in outrage. “Kill her.”
Dekker seized her hair and dragged her back against his chest.
She couldn’t help it. She screamed. She tried to pull herself free. The knife bit into her throat, drawing blood.
“Now,” he said in her ear, “where were we?”
At least she would be in the woods when death came for her. At least she would die with rain on her face, dirt beneath her feet, the gray mouth of the sky swallowing her up.
The blade pressed deeper. Pain and dizziness exploded in front of her vision. At least—
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it.
A streak of motion bolted into the clearing. Then another. One white, one black. Twin demons of snarling fury.