Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Rey is the first affected by the grief. Her whimpers of pain lash at me, but I push it away, relying on my senses to lead me.
Life.
So fragile and small and fleeting.
Barely hanging on.
Hold on.
My pleas are like bolts of lightning running through the bond of my pack, but it’s directed toward the life that’s now struggling beneath the weight of grief and pain.
Fog clouds my vision, but my nose and ears never let me down. I dart past trees, wishing like hell I had my wolf’s speed, but I can’t risk shifting around a dying human. I need my hands and intellect. My humanity.
The scent of blood grows stronger. No longer sweet but sour now that I know it’s human. As soon as I come to a clearing where the fog is heavier, I slow my steps. Whimpers are nearby, ragged and wet, as death saturates the tiny life. The first body I come to is that of a teen girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen. Naked. Skin shredded. Body bruised and mangled. Face damn near ripped off, a horrific mess of flesh and bone and blood.
Dead.
Rey’s despair mirrors my own. I sidestep the teenager and come to a woman next, probably around my age. She’s been sexually assaulted if I had to guess by the crude way her naked thighs were left open and the blood smeared over them. Her neck has been ripped out, and her breasts are lacerated. Her hand is stretched above her head at an awkward angle as a smaller hand rests inside it.
Where the woman’s skin is pale, nearly gray where it’s not covered in blood, the tiny hand in hers is pink, life still pumping through its veins.
The fog dissipates, revealing the whimpering child. A boy. Maybe seven or eight years old. So tiny and shivering. His clothes are missing, and five long gouges have been raked against his small chest. Blood seeps from a large gash on the side of his neck.
I should grant him mercy. Snap his neck and end his torment. It’s what a good Alpha would do. So why can’t I bring myself to do it?
Big brown eyes lock on to mine, pleading without speaking. My heart tightens inside my chest. He needs help, not mercy. Someone to take away the pain and promise future happiness. A protector.
Whoever or whatever did this will pay.
I’m boiling with a mixture of rage and horror, unable to place the scents to anything familiar. I don’t know if it’s man or beast or both. All I know is the child will die if we don’t act fast. Dropping to my knees, I rip off my flannel shirt and cover the boy. When I go to tug him into my arms, he reaches for what must be his mother, tears streaming from his eyes. Easily, I pluck his tired grip from hers, pulling him to my chest. Hot blood that leaks from his neck wound soaks through my T-shirt to my flesh. His heartbeat is weak, but his sadness is loud inside my head. It gives me hope. That despite the terror he’s endured, he’ll pull through.
Mine.
Just as with the rest of my pack, I feel a familiar tug—another tether to the bond that links me to them. I’ve claimed this little one as ours. His family is gone. He’ll need another.
Rey, Finnick, Ewan, and Judd all crouch beside me, eyes wild with confusion and sadness. My gaze meets Rey’s, and I feel the sting of tears burning. A tremble rattles through me, the protective side of me practically screaming.
“Fix him,” I growl. “Fix the boy.”
Rey tearfully nods. “I will.”
She reaches for him, but a vicious snarl escapes me. All four of my Betas flinch away. The boy clings harder to my undershirt that’s now soaked with a cold sweat and his blood. I rise to my feet and carry the boy home.
He’ll be sheltered from harm by our pack.
Rey will nurse him back to life, and I will protect him with mine.
Don’t worry, little one, you’re safe now.
My wolf snuffles in agreement before finally retreating into the shadows of my humanity, content with lying dormant until next time.
Cyrus
Present Day…
Unbelievable.
With these winds and the unusually dry fall air, it’s a shock that a forest fire hadn’t already started before I arrived. Irritation burns in my gut as I kick my boot across the ground, sending dirt scattering over the glowing embers of a recently abandoned campfire. People have no respect for nature. They use the land, discarding their trash and unwanted belongings, and move on to some other untarnished area so they can leave their stain there, too.
It’s one of the few things my wolf and I see eye to eye on.
He wants to smack them around with his paw, and I’d prefer to ram my fist through their noses. It’s not hard to make sure to leave the area just as you found it.