Page 57

M y boots pound against the loamy earth as I tear through the dense underbrush, branches whipping across my face with each frantic stride. Briar’s footfalls echo ahead, fuelling my relentless pursuit like a bloodhound scenting its quarry. She knows we’re closing the net around her now, the game rapidly reaching its inevitable conclusion.

Shouldering through a thicket of brambles, I emerge into a small clearing just as Briar bursts through the opposite treeline. Our gazes collide in that split second, her eyes widening with primal terror before she pivots on her heel. Lean muscles compact as she launches herself into a desperate sprint, streaking across the meadow in a futile bid for freedom.

A feral snarl rips from my throat as I pour on the speed, devouring the distance between us in a handful of powerful strides. My fingers finally find purchase, snagging the tattered remains of her shirt and using the grip to haul Briar off her feet. She shrieks, a full-bodied wail torn from deep in her chest as I cradle her against my bulk.

We slam into the damp earth with bruising impact, my own body twisting at the last possible second to cushion Briar from the worst of the collision. Pain lances along my spine and shoulders, but I dismiss the discomfort with a grunt, arms tightening around the wildcat thrashing in my embrace.

“Easy, dura?ka,” I rumble against the crown of her head, forcing myself to temper the endearment into a sneer as she bucks and claws. “Wouldn’t want you knocking yourself senseless before the main event.”

Chest heaving with exertion, I tighten my grip further to subdue her frantic struggles. Each ineffectual writhe and flailed strike rips a jagged trench through my composure, biting down on my molars until the urge to release her ebbs. Fuck, she’s already reaching the limits of her endurance after four solid hours fleeing through these woods…

The thought coils in my gut, visceral and dense, sending bile scorching up the back of my throat. I swallow hard against the acrid taste, gaze darting towards the treeline as more motion catches my periphery. Hayes’ hulking silhouette parts the foliage a heartbeat later, the bulky strength of his hefty musculature evident even from this distance.

His strides eat up the remaining ground separating us in the span of a few ragged breaths, Briar whipping her head around with a piteous whimper. Those cornflower blues blaze with renewed desperation and defiance, summoning the last dregs of her battered reserves to lash out with increased ferocity.

With reflexes honed by decades spent in operations far more lethal than this perverse initiation ritual, Hayes reacts on instinct. One instant he looms over us, the next his arm lances out to coil around Briar’s kicking legs. A deft twist of leverage and he wrenches her squirming body from my slackened grasp, hoisting the thrashing wildcat against his chest in a full nelson.

“Fuckin’ little hellion, ain’t she?” Jace’s mocking lilt cuts through the silence smothering the clearing as he emerges from the treeline opposite Hayes. Every languid stride drips with insolent bravado, gaze roaming over Briar’s captured form while his tongue darts out to lave his lower lip. “Sure you two meatheads can keep her under wraps until we commence with the party?”

My lips peel back from my teeth, body tensing to bound across the scant distance and cave that smug expression inwards—but Hayes beats me to the punch. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, princess,” he rumbles, biceps flexing to tighten his grasp as Briar renews her bucking efforts with a muffled shriek. “Reckon this filly’s ‘bout to remember who’s holding the reins ‘round here.”

The crude innuendo hangs in the air like a lead weight, accompanied by Rhys’ low chuckle from his vantage point near the trees. I suck in a sharp breath through flared nostrils, dragging the heels of my palms across my brow to wipe away the sheen of perspiration beading there. Bile stings my senses again, throat convulsing to choke down the bitter fluid along with the rage simmering in my marrow.

“Keep her fucking still, then,” I rasp, voice grating over the words like rusted nails on slate. “Girl’s earned a few licks for all the trouble she’s caused.”

With visible effort, Hayes adjusts his stance to brace himself, both arms snaking around Briar’s ribcage in a vice-like bear hug. Her kicks and flails lose momentum almost immediately, chest heaving with the first ebbing tides of weariness. Strands of matted hair obscure her features, but I glimpse the way her jaw works feverishly, gaze darting from one impassive countenance to the next.

I know that look—the desperate search for any hint of mercy or relent sputtering amongst our ranks. She won’t find any shred of such weakness projected in this clearing, not with the Order’s edict looming over us all like the sword of Damocles. A tremor rattles down my vertebrae, bones grinding against bones while I steel myself to play my part in the impending desecration.

No matter how much it grinds my soul to splinters in the process.

My boots crunch against the loamy soil as I stand, brushing off dirt from my thighs before closing the distance separating me from Hayes and his captive burden. Briar’s chest heaves with ragged pants, eyes wide and frantic, pupils like pin pricks in her drugged state as they dart between our impassive countenances. This look of abject desperation etched across her delicate features ignites a conflagration of revulsion roiling through my gut.

Still, duty compels me onward until I loom over the pair, callused fingertips snaring Briar’s jaw in an iron grip. She tries to recoil, a plaintive whimper slipping past those parted lips, but I simply tighten my hold—digging into the hinged bones until her mouth is forced wider.

“You might as well spare your voice, dura?ka,” I rumble, the endearment twisted into something mocking and cruel upon my tongue. “Even if someone could hear your cries from these woods, they wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about your misfortune.”

The words scorch like acid up my throat, leaving an acrid taste of bile coating the back of my tongue. Swallowing hard, I fight against the surge of nausea curdling my insides as Jace and Rhys sidle up to flank me—arms crossed over their chests in a show of solidarity that sours my empty stomach.

Releasing Briar’s jaw, I sweep my free hand down to grip the hilt protruding from my belt loop. With a deft flick, the blade clears its sheath, razor edge glinting with wicked menace in the moonlight. Briar flinches, head thrashing in Hayes’ unforgiving grasp, but I simply hook the tip beneath the tattered remnants of her shirt.

A sharp tug slices through the filthy cotton, baring her abdomen and the faded sports bra struggling to contain the lush feminine curves beneath its banding, sliced through at the top from where I’d already flayed her skin earlier. Nostrils flaring, I angle the knife upwards to hook the razor edge into the fraying bra cup and slice through its thin material in one clean sweep, severing the last few strands of fabric stubbornly clinging to each other..

Briar’s shoulders jerk, torso instinctively curling inwards as the garment flutters to the trampled earth between our feet. Her bare breasts heave with each rapid inhalation, nipples pebbling in the cool evening air while I take silent stock of the laceration scoring a path down her sternum.

The earlier wound has thankfully scabbed over, dried flakes of coagulated crimson clinging to the surrounding skin, but the reminder of what must be done next compounds the acrid burn along the back of my tongue. Swallowing hard, I avert my gaze for a heartbeat, muscles in my jaw flexing beneath the strain.

With an inward sigh, I bend to complete my grisly task—hooking the razor tip into the waistband of Briar’s tattered yoga pants and slicing downwards along first one hip, then the other. Her struggles renew with increased vigour, but Hayes simply tightens his restraining hold until she’s forced to remain immobile.

Tremors rattle imperceptibly through my frame as I continue sawing through layered fabric, peeling away each section until Briar is stripped bare save for the scrap of cotton shielding her modesty and her boots. A last flex of my wrist separates that final barrier, exposing the smooth expanse of pink flesh nestled at the apex of her thighs.

Raising my stare, I find Hayes pinning me with an inscrutable look, lower lip caught between his teeth. Silently, I dip my chin in a shallow nod, giving him leave to proceed while sheathing my blade once more. Ribs expanding on a fortifying inhale, the bigger man swallows audibly before loosening his vice-like embrace around Briar’s middle.

In one fluid motion, he releases her completely, allowing her crumpled form to collapse in a limp sprawl between our boots. Jaw clenching, Hayes takes a steadying step back and reaches for the fastenings of his own garments, fingers trembling ever so faintly as he dips his hand beneath the waistband of his fatigues.

A rustle of movement from my periphery vision draws my attention sideways just as Jace slides into place behind Hayes’ solid frame. His hand snakes around the other man’s waist, disappearing beneath bunched fabric to join the lewd display of him working his growing arousal.

I can’t resist dropping my stare towards Briar’s prone form between our feet, drinking in the steady rise and fall of her ribcage with each shallow pant. Lips parting on an inaudible exhale, I crouch down until our gazes are level, callused fingertips grazing along the sharp line of her jaw to tip her chin upwards.

There it is—that irrepressible spark of insolent rebellion smouldering behind those azure irises, refusing to be extinguished by the despair cloying all around us. Muscles twitching in my jaw, I drink in the sight like a man parched for sustenance. That fractious streak is the only damn thing keeping this entire charade from shattering the last vestiges of my ability to keep powering through this into oblivion.