Page 2

F aye

My body urges me to shift into my wolf form, my instincts kicking in, telling me that I’ll have a much higher chance of survival if I do.

But I know better than that. I know that no matter what I do, Kurt is going to catch me, and he’s going to kill me.

Whether in our human form or our wolf form, he’s bigger, stronger, and faster than me.

Hell, my own alpha was able to catch me, and I’d had a huge head start. I have no chance against Kurt. None at all.

“Think, Faye. Think,” I tell myself, my mind spinning.

There has to be a way out of this. There has to be an ending for me that isn’t violent and bloody. I… just can’t think of one.

I trip on a root, fall, and hit my knee, hard , on a rock. “Fuck.”

That’s just what I needed.

I ignore the blood and the aching and get to my feet, hobbling along, trying to keep the tears from running down my face all over again.

Crying isn’t going to help anything, but that doesn’t stop a sob from ripping up my throat.

Hitting my knee and leaving blood already means I’m making an easy trail straight to me.

I need to be smarter. I needed to be better and smarter.

If that’s even possible.

A branch smacks me in the face and I have to bite my tongue to keep from crying out in shock.

The path I’m cutting through the woods is probably clear as day to someone like Kurt, who surely grew up hunting with his father.

If I were back home, I’d know enough of the area to choose ones where I’d be less likely to be detected, but this place is a mystery to me.

I’m trying to pay attention to branches, to grass, to everything, but it’s impossible.

The woods are thick here. There’s no way to not leave a trail.

“Maybe if I keep going the woods will thin,” I whisper to myself.

If I have enough time.

My brain scrambles, trying to determine if the “few minutes” Kurt planned to give me are up yet. If they are, I should be looking for a place to hide, not continuing to run out in the open. But if I have more time, I need to keep trying to put as much distance between Kurt and myself as possible.

Is he already coming for me?

My ears strain, trying to hear if he’s following close behind me, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of my rapid breathing, the heaving as I try, desperately, to get oxygen in my lungs. The quickness of it makes my head light, and I move through the woods like I’m in a nightmare.

Every snapped twig around me convinces me that this is it—I’m dead.

He’s found me. I picture, over and over, what it will feel like when Kurt gets his hands on me.

He won’t make my death a quick one. I shudder, pushing the thought away.

Thinking about how he plans to torture me isn’t going to make it hurt any less.

I trip and stumble my way through the woods, my ears perking when I hear something familiar. Running water. There’s running water near here.

The trees around me suddenly cease as I dash through them, and I skid out into a relatively bare area, heart thudding as I look down into the foamy, thrashing water of a narrow river. It’s not just water—there are rapids, coursing through jutting rocks. It screams of danger.

I stare down at it, then glance over my shoulder, into the woods.

There’s nothing good behind me. Only Kurt.

I could try to run along the river, but I’d be exposed, out in the open, easy prey.

But what else can I do? My eyes trace the line of the rapids into the drop-off, then to where the water feeds into the lake far off in the distance, a spot of blue against a green landscape.

It’s the lake by the castle. The same water where I boated with Ezra, then later, with Maverick.

This river could lead me straight to them.

If I can survive the water, I’ll wash up in the lake, and someone will find and help me.

There are enough people around the lake that it’d only be a matter of time.

But these rapids… they’re dangerous. I’d have to not only survive them, but survive them until I reach the lake. If I ended up spit out along the riverbank somewhere, I’d be easy pickings for Kurt.

Except, he would have a damn hard time following my scent if I jumped into the water.

Something rustles in the woods behind me, and I glance over my shoulder, heart stuttering. That could be Kurt. Or it could be something else. But if I keep standing here, he’s bound to find me. It’s now or never. I have to make a choice.

Even if I die in the water, that’s a fate better than Kurt getting his hands on me, then Kurt beating me or assaulting me.

My legs trembling, my body revolting at the very thought of the thing, I take a deep breath and try to ease myself into the water. Except the second I start inching out into the raging river, the water snatches me, pulling me in with a force I never imagined.

The water engulfs me, wrapping around me like a million liquid fingers, dragging me under, pushing over me, whipping me around.

When I surface a moment later, desperately trying to take a breath, my sopping wet hair slaps over my face and acts as a screen, depriving me of breath as the water pulls me under again.

I feel my body starting to go limp, but I’m able to grab onto a root.

I push my hair out of my face and heave, trying not to vomit.

Then the water rips me away, into the rapids again.

My side hits a rock so hard that pain rips through my body, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.

I feel like I’ve been broken in half, like I’m dying.

But I’m swept along, conscious of the water and the desperate need to breathe, even as I’m dragging along sharp rocks and smashed against others.

When I surface again, clutching a branch still attached to a tree overhead, I’m crying, sobbing, just wanting to be still for a moment.

But already the slick branch is hard to grasp onto.

The water pulls at me, pulls at my long coat and dress, demanding I keep moving.

Demanding that I be just another victim of nature.

As a little girl, I had wandered down to the pond near my cabin and fallen in when I was still too little to know how to swim.

My brother found me in the water and dragged me out.

On shore, he'd cried, repeating that I’d almost drowned over and over again.

After that, I always told people that I’d almost drowned as a little girl, but now, I know the truth.

I was nowhere near drowning back then.

But now? My lungs feel water-logged, my throat constricting with the need to vomit as the river snatches me once more and drags me under.

I’m tossed and turned beneath the river’s surface, being smashed into anything and everything along the way, not knowing what will kill me first—the lack of oxygen, or the rocks.

My body screams for release—either for a breath of air or to die—but I get neither, surfacing just enough for my traitorous body to grasp at branches, holding me above the water long enough to keep me on the edge of life and death before I’m sucked in again.

Minutes, hours even, pass by, the water smashing me into rocks, letting me surface just often enough to stay alive, then pulling me back down.

For a while, I'm aware of nothing outside of myself and the river, but then I slowly realize the water has calmed.

I'm drifting like a leaf rather than being tumbled like a tiny creature by ocean waves.

Finally, finally , I'm pushed onto the shore, my pulse thrumming through my eyelids, my head aching terribly. For a minute, I can't quite believe that I'm still alive, but the way my body screams in pain makes it hard to ignore.

I made it. I survived. With any luck, my tumble through the water will have hidden my scent well enough that I can get away from Kurt in one piece.

Except that I’m not in the lake. I’m not just outside the castle. I’m still on the river.

Panic awakens inside of me, threatening to swallow my whole chest, but I squash it down. Panic won’t help me now. No one can help me now. And I’m too close to give up. I just have to keep going.

Moving slightly, I cry out, then glance down at my body. Blood covers my entire side, and just the single movement had made the injury come alive with pain. There are more injuries. More patches of blood. More spots where my body feels wrong. But my side is the worst.

And yet, I have to keep going. I have to keep going.

Through the tears in my eyes and the blood streaming down my face, I see a hazy vision of the castle, and, gasping for air, I crawl toward it, my body screaming in protest, a blinding pulse of pain moving from my spine and out to all my limbs, curling in my hands and feet, making every movement nearly impossible.

But the castle is there. My men are there. I can’t stop.

I think of my men, waiting there for me, and about their responses to what I’d just done.

I can see all of them and their reactions—Ezra, worried about the long-lasting injuries, Cayson, impressed and wanting to try it himself, Maverick thinking about the logistics of surviving, Xander, growling with rage, only focused on tearing Kurt limb from limb for putting me in that position in the first place.

Come to think of it—that’s how all of them will react .

Pain makes it hard to breathe. Hard to see. There's not a part of me that doesn't hurt. At least the rough ground tearing into my hands and knees barely penetrates through the fog of suffering, making it easier to just keep going. To never stop.

It feels like I’ve been dragging my body along the shore for hours, but in reality, I know it’s been less time. How much, I have no idea. But the castle doesn’t seem to be any closer. Still, I cling to the idea of that castle. To the idea of the people waiting there for me.

People. Waiting. For. Me. I taste blood when I smile, but it's worth it. For the first time in a long time, I'm not alone. At least I won't be when I get out of these woods and far from Kurt.

“Going somewhere?”

As though just thinking about him could conjure him, Kurt steps out of the bushes to my side, breathing hard, his eyes murderous. And, before I can answer, scream, or even close my eyes, he’s on me.