Chapter 35
Rory
I never thought I would see the day the cult would get what they deserved. I take a deep breath and steady my bow, aiming directly at the group of members and fire. The arrow lands—clean through the throat of one of the memebers.
One down.
“Go!” someone shouts to my left.
I nod at Ryven, and he returns it. No words are needed. He moves without question. Soon, the space between us and them is closing rapidly.
Arrows fly past my head and sink into the ground below as I dodge them one by one.
I set my eyes on my first target and charge, bringing my knife out in front of me.
As soon as I’m close enough, I jump, landing on his chest and bringing him to the ground.
Quickly, I slice his throat as he scrambles to gain traction enough to stand.
He slowly bleeds out, and I move to my next target.
Bodies and bloodshed litter the ground as each one of the cult members starts to die. I see Ryven ahead of me, and he has only one person in sight: Cedric.
Cedric attempts to fall into the shadows of the forest out of sight, but Ryven gets to him first and tackles him to the ground. As I rush toward him to help him, someone throws me to the ground with an attack from behind.
I struggle to get my bearings, and it feels like the air leaves from my lungs. Then they drag me by my hair, and my hands instinctively reach to relieve the pressure.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I scream and kick, attempting to hit my assailant. But it’s no use; he has me in a vice-like grip.
I can feel the person’s hot breath on the back of my neck as he leans in close. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Rory.” The man’s voice makes my skin crawl. He yanks my head and places a cold, metallic blade across my neck. “Not so tough now, are you?” he growls in my ear.
I look around at what surrounds us. Everyone continues fighting as if I’m not being held hostage. I squirm and try to get myself free, but he slides the blade harder against my neck.
He tsks. “Not yet. I have special plans for you.” He starts dragging me out of the chaos and toward the other side of the woods.
Panic swells in my belly as I frantically search for someone to help, but no one is coming.
I look over where I last saw Ryven and scream his name at the top of my lungs.
He lifts his head immediately from where he was just punching Cedric in the face and finds my eyes.
He glances at Cedric as if weighing the options on who he will choose: the man he has sworn to kill or me.
Then, like a feral beast taking over his body, he lets out a roar and charges us. My attacker’s grip tightens as his breath quickens. His heartbeat hammers on my back. He’s scared of Ryven.
I watch as people attempt to come between us one by one, but Ryven just mows them down. He stabs and slices as he weaves through the crowd. His eyes never leaving mine. His pupils are blown wide, like he’s afraid to glance away for one moment. Like he knows I’ll be gone forever if he does.
Once he gets close enough, he pounces.
We go down hard, and my attacker’s grip loosens as Ryven’s weight slams into him like a battering ram. I hit the ground first, rolled beneath them both.
My attacker shrieks—high, panicking, pathetic—as Ryven drives his elbow, again and again, into the side of the man’s face. Bone cracks. Flesh splits. The screech becomes a gurgle.
A blade flashes above me. Ryven plunges it into the man’s throat, yanks it free, then stabs repeatedly.
Hot blood splashes my arms and my neck. I squeeze my eyes shut, curling under the dead weight pinning me.
Sickening sounds. The wet, brutal kind. A grunt. A final breath.
Then—silence.
The man above me stops moving. His body sags. Heavy. Lifeless.
The chaos, once thundering around us, dulls to nothing but wind and breath.
Is it over?
Are we done?
The realization of Ryven’s body not moving brings makes my heart skip as I attempt to squeeze myself out from underneath him.
“Ryven.” I push at his chest, but I get no response.
“Fucking hell,” I grumble and give it all I got.
Finally, I get myself free and climb out from the sandwich of men I was just in and look around me.
Dead bodies litter the ground. Some lay on top of one another.
But no one makes a sound. Am I the only survivor?
I look at Ryven’s body and pray for any form of movement.
I let out a shaky breath and kneel next to him.
“Please don’t leave me.” I reach toward his body when suddenly he takes in a huge breath of air and rolls over on his back.
The knife once put to my throat is sticking out of his shoulder.
My hands shake as I inch toward it. “Oh fuck. Hang on, stay still.” He reaches for the knife, and I swat his hand away. “Stop. I have to see how bad it is first.”
He shakes his head. “We have to get back in the fight. This isn’t over yet.”
I push him and sigh. “It’s over, Ryven. They’re all dead.”
He doesn’t believe me and climbs to his feet, wincing as his muscles convulse around the knife still in his shoulder. He gazes across the field of bodies and stalks toward them. Something moves slightly right inside the tree line, and he takes off in a jog.
I stumble as I try to keep up with him while we step over people on the ground. He rushes into the trees and then stands over the movement I saw. It’s Cedric groaning as he attempts to push himself further into the woods.
Without a sound, Ryven snags the knife from his shoulder and sticks it in the side of Cedric’s neck. Then he turns toward me and cups my cheek. “Now it’s done, and we’re free.” He rests his head against mine, and I wrap my arms around his waist.
I watch as the last of the flames burn down to ash from the two crosses in the center of the field.
Are we truly free? Is this all it took? What’s left now?