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“This isn’t how this is going to end.” I grit my teeth. “I did not survive ten years in a cage only to end up as some mutt’s dinner.”

We wait, ears straining for any sign the monster is going to return. There’s a possibility it took what itwanted—a man to fill its belly—and won’t bother to come back for more.

In the distance, something, perhaps the creature itself, lets out a long, mournful howl. The sound is picked up by another and is echoed back, the cry rolling across the moorland.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.

Several of the horses break free and gallop away. Our supplies are carried in the bags attached to their saddles. If we lose all the horses, spending the night out here, or making the journey back to Askos, won’t be pleasant. That’s assuming we survive long enough for us to make it back at all.

The beast streaks back across our group, and a second man is snatched. It disrupts the circle we’ve created around Taelyn.

“Fall back in,” Balthorne yells.

The man’s screams filter across the moorland, and I don’t like to think I hear the crunch of bone.

How many more of us is it going to take?

“Fuck this!” one of the guards cries. “I’m getting out of here.”

“There’s nowhere to go!” Balthorne says, but the man is already running in terror, glancing over his shoulder at the thing he’s running from.

It must have sensed fear as, a moment later, the creature appears, bounding across the moorland, heading directly for the man. It opens its jaws wide and closes around the back of the runaway guard’s neck. A split second later, only the man’s body remains, and, headless, he falls to the ground.

Behind us, Taelyn gives a cry of horror.

Is there only one of these creatures attacking us, or is it different beasts that we’re seeing? A pack of them. If it’s only one, it isn’t killing because it’s hungry. It would have just taken one of us, if that was the case, and retreated with its meal. No, this beast—or beasts—are killing for pleasure.

If we’re dealing with a pack, then we’re all dead.

One, however, we might be able to take down.

I take a step outside the circle.

“Ruarok, what are you doing?” Taelyn cries.

I don’t respond but lower myself to a crouch, every muscle tensed, my dagger in my hand. If my instincts are right, then the creature will come for me as I have separated myself from the pack. I just have to be ready for it when it does.

I might have been ready, but it’s far faster than my eyes can take in. I feel it as a whip of wind, followed by the stench of a muddy peat bog, old blood, and death.

Then it’s on top of me, standing over me. It’s huge, far bigger than I am. It snarls, and spittle falls from its jaws, landing on my face. I don’t even want to think about how sharp the rows of teeth that I just caught a glimpse of are.

With a roar of fury, I drive my dagger up into its throat. The blade seems pitifully small compared to the size of the creature, and I’m not sure it’s even going to slow it down. It opens its jaws wide, and I’m certain it’s about to tear off my head with one swift bite. I brace myself for agony, followed by death, and experience a wave of regret for all the things I didn’t get to do in my life.

But then something else punches the animal’s side. Itlets out a roar of fury and turns its attention from me, snapping out at something to its left.

It’s Balthorne. He’s just stabbed the creature in the ribs.

The distraction gives me time to reach the dagger held in a cuff around my ankle, and I wriggle out from under the beast. It’s hurt but far from dead, and now it’s snapping at Balthorne, with Balthorne’s sword protruding from its side.

With a yell of fury, I throw myself back at the creature. I raise the dagger high and bring it down, aiming directly at its red eye. The point of the blade finds its mark, and I grimace at the sensation of popping before the dagger sinks deeper, straight into the monster’s brain.

It goes rigid, several spasms jerking through its body, and then falls to one side, its legs sticking out as though a bolt of electricity is running through it. I look at those claws, how huge, curved, and lethally sharp each one is. It could have gutted me in a second, and I’m incredibly lucky it didn’t. No, actually, it wasn’t luck. If it hadn’t been for Balthorne stabbing the monster with his sword, I would be dead.

I wipe my palms on the seat of my pants and then put my hand out to him. He glances down at it and realizes what I’m doing and places his palm in mine.

“Thank you,” I tell him as we shake. “You saved my life.”

He gives a subtle nod. “Of course. Your bravery may have saved all of ours, too.”