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“Remove your hands.” Cin’s words were a snarl and it was the most haunting, beautiful melody my ears had ever heard.

The hands around my limbs tightened as Jasper spoke.

“Our bastard God, to what do we owe the surprise?” His voice dripped with hate as the words left his lips.

My eyes cracked open against the swelling of my face, flinching as I blinked away the tears that blurred my vision. Cin stood in the hole blown into the side of the house, shadowssnaking from her body and slithering toward us. She took three steps forward, her eyes locked on the men whose fingers were still coiling around my limbs.

Out of the shadow billowing at her back, I watched as Dukovich stepped through the opening, a giant grey wolf at his side.

A sob shuddered from my chest at the sight of them.

I was going to be okay.

I was going to live.

Dukovich’s gaze met mine and for one fleeting moment, I saw fear flare there. A black veil of rage pulled over his irises in the next breath and his eyes shifted to the men holding me down as a growl left his lips.

Cyloe stalked toward Cin, her head lowered to the ground, readying to pounce.

“I will say this one last time, remove your hands from mysister.” Creed’s grip loosed around my thigh as the words fell from Cin’s lips and the other four men tightened theirs, their jagged nails cutting into my skin.

Shadows exploded into the room and Creed sprinted for the door. Dukovich stepped into his path and the sickening crack of bones crunching rang out as Creed’s neck snapped. I watched as his limp body hit the floor, the sound clashing with the backs of the other four men hitting the wall behind me.

What was left of the shack’s frame shook from the force.

Pain knocked the air from my body as I tried to turn my head to see what was happening. I couldn’t feel my legs anymore—could barely move my fingers.

Dukovich was already at my side, covering me in his coat as a knife sliced through the rope.

My body stiffened, and I knew it was shock beginning to seep in as my eyelids drooped.

“Stay awake, Ataliia,” Dukovich commanded as he lifted me into his arms, pulling my body against his chest. “Please, stay awake.” It was a plea this time, whispered into my blood caked hair.

Tears flowed silently from my eyes, as he pulled me closer and stepped into the night.

I knew it was cold, knew that the air was freezing as I watched the snow fall to the frozen ground.

But I couldn’t feel it.

Dukovich started to run and I peered over his shoulder, watching as the dwelling grew smaller. Watching as shadows consumed all the light left in that crumbling frame and the screams of those men poured into the night sky.

I could not grip on to consciousness for much longer.

My head lolled against Dukovich’s chest, the rhythm of his pounding heart echoing in my ears. Each breath was a battle, a desperate grasp for air that seemed to slip further away with every passing second.

“Don’t you dare give up, Ataliia,” Dukovich growled, his breath coming in white puffs in the frigid air. “We’re almost there. Just hold on a little longer.” His voice was desperate as it cut through the haze, the words a lifeline in the abyss.

I wanted to respond, to tell him I was trying. That I wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet.

But my lips refused to form the words.

The darkness was calling to me, a siren’s song promising an end to the pain—to the suffering.

Forcing my eyes open, I blinked away the tears that pooled in the corners, the water freezing to my lashes like tiny crystals. The night sky stretched endlessly above us, stars obscured by the falling snow.

It was so beautiful, so peaceful.

Dukovich’s pace quickened, his breaths humming against my side in short, sharp bursts as he navigated the treacherous terrain from wherever I had been held.