Chapter 18
Junie
Blood drips down my face and onto my pants.
I don't look at the snow under me because the mix of dirt and blood has me threatening to add bile to the mix.
This was only supposed to be a walk. A short one to burn off some of the anger, maybe cry without watchful eyes, then remind myself how much of a badass I am.
It was meant to be a few moments by myself, without the smell of Silas dominating my every sense, and the only time I would give myself to grieve a love that never had a fucking possibility in the first place.
How was I supposed to know there would be a group of rogue wolves so close to camp? Where are our scouts? Not our, fuck, whatever.
It doesn’t matter, anyway.
Five wolves surround me. Four of them sit across from me. One has a map in hand, talking about who knows what. There’s another in charge of watching me. I don’t know why. It’s not like I could go anywhere if I tried.
Rope bites into my wrists and ankles, the fibers digging deeper every time I struggle. I don’t want to bleed more than I already am, so I sit in silence, swallowing my fight.
“Henry, we should ask the girl,” one of them says, and I silently pray the others shoot him down.
What could I possibly know? I’m clueless. But luck and I have never been friends. I mean, who else gets stranded on a mountain, falls for a guy who rejects her, and then gets kidnapped? Yeah, I’m really winning at life.
The tallest one, Henry, nods, and I clock him as the leader. He strides over and crouches until we’re eye to eye.
“I’m sorry we had to do this,” Henry says. He sounds sincere, but it’s hard to believe him when my blood is on his knuckles from hitting me.
I’m not going down without a fight, so I spit in his face. He doesn’t know that I barely know anything about the Starview pack.
“You fucking bitch.” His voice rises, and he slaps me.
I knew it was coming, but I still wish I could clutch my burning cheek. My lip is already split, and now more blood spatters the snow. No one’s ever hit me just to hurt me before. Tears prick my eyes, but I refuse to let him see me break. I glare back, anger burning through the pain.
Silas might have turned me away, but I still care for him. And honestly? Fuck these wolves. They’ve caused so much pain for Silas and his pack.
“You will tell us what we need to know.” Henry is going to try again, I suppose.
“Do you have a question? Or do you just like to hear your own voice?”
Henry’s fist tightens, but he holds back. He tilts his head, just a flicker of a nod, so quick I almost miss it. Someone must have warned him not to hit me again.
“Why are you with the Alpha of the Starview Pack?”
“I’m not with the Alpha of the North Pack.”
Henry growls, and my smile only widens. Ophelia would be swearing up a storm, insisting I have a death wish, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“You reek of him.”
“Do I?” If I can keep him talking, maybe Silas will get here in time. Knowing him, he’s probably already on his way. “I’m not important. Not to him, not to anyone in that pack. Ever heard of a one-night stand?”
If I were more important than a one-night stand, he would have talked to me.
He would have told me the truth.
Instead, he just assumed I wouldn’t care. Or maybe he never cared at all. Either way, it’s obvious I mean nothing to him, and he wants to keep it that way.
“Wolves don’t keep humans in their camp. And according to my sources, you’ve been there the entire week. Do you think Silas would care if I had a little fun with you?”
Henry grabs my chin, and I try to twist away, but between the shock of being kidnapped and the biting cold, my strength is gone. All I have left is the hope that Silas cares enough to keep me alive.
I stay silent, not wanting to give Henry or any of his pack mates a reason to think Silas cares.
Henry drags his gaze over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to see through my jacket. “You’d make a good pet. Maybe I’ll take you for myself, cover up the Alpha’s scent with mine.”
“Fuck. You,” I snarl.
“Is that what you want, sweetheart? You want to forget about Silas? You tell me everything you know, and I’ll make that happen.”
My stare doesn’t waver from Henry, and I don’t bother giving him an answer. Anger radiates from my chest in waves. He’s trying to get me worked up, anything to give him an excuse to hit me again.
“We have to try a different method, I suppose.” Henry shrugs and stands. He then looks over to my warder, saying who knows what via their mind connection, and the warder nods.
I don’t think he told the warder to untie me and let me go.
The warder is short and round, sporting the ugliest mustache I’ve ever seen. It looks like one of those fake ones you buy for a costume. I want to rip it right off his face.
He stalks toward me, waddles more like it, and I fight every urge to kick and scream.
I’ve learned by now that any of these wolves could easily take me, and I have zero training.
Unless you count the one self-defense class I did back in high school.
I don’t think I’d be able to throw a proper punch.
I’d throw the punch and break my knuckles, that’s what would happen.
I’ve already given myself enough bruises and cuts from fighting back, and I’m nowhere closer to being let go.
The warder bends down and yanks me to my feet by the wrists. My entire backside is soaked, wetness seeping through every layer. If the rogues don’t kill me, the cold just might.
Every breath I take is labored as the warder lifts my hands above my head. I try to look up, to see what he’s doing, but all I see is more goddamn rope. What is he doing?
“Don’t worry, this will only hurt a little.” The warder grins, and I cringe.
Half his teeth are either chipped or simply not in his mouth. If I had more energy, I would make fun of him, insult him, and spit at him like I did with Henry. But I have zero energy. And even less so when I learn what the extra rope is for.
He walks back to where he was standing when he was watching me, the excess rope in hand, and he pulls. Every time he pulls, my hands lift higher and higher until I’m off the ground. He pulls until I’m nearly two feet off the ground, then ties the slack onto the closest tree.
I’m now suspended in mid-air. Fuck, I could really use a pastry right now, something chocolatey and warm. Imagining a tray of fresh croissants is the only thing that distracts me from the agony in my wrists and shoulders.
The pain is blinding. The rope digs into the groove of my wrist, scraping my skin raw. Blood trickles down my arm, splattering the snow below.
I know Silas can’t hear me, but I start whispering his name, begging for help, over and over until the world fades to black.