Page 75 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Arcadia

I RIP A FEW GOWNS from my closet, cramming them into my bag with shaking hands. Blood oozes steadily down my back, hot and sticky, soaking into the fabric as tears streak down my face.

Every breath burns. The wounds my familiar sustained are carved into my soul. I cinch the bag tight and sling it over my shoulders. I burst through the doors and sprint toward the forest.

I don’t look back. My breath begins to rasp as the drug they slipped me invades my system all over again.

The black-cloaked figures follow, their antelope masks gleaming under the moonlight. Their pace is unhurried, almost deliberate. The blades they carry glisten with my blood. This is a ritual, I realize. I just don’t know what for.

“Run, little sheep. It enjoys the hunt,” one of them taunts. The voice, warped by magic, offers no clue who hides behind the mask.

Fuck these people. I am no sheep.

Branches lash my skin as I break into the woods. Cuts bloom across my body. Then suddenly, something massive joins the chase. Its weight is pounding the forest floor, snapping branches like twigs. The vibrations reach me before the sound does. I’m covered in blood. I’m bait.

A prayer leaves my lips in silence, pleading with the gods to let me survive the night.

As if to mock my prayer, they answer with a Lycan’s howl—deep, blood-curdling, and far too close.

Panic floods me. I no longer wonder if I’ll die. I wonder what will get to me first.

The branches above thicken, strangling the moonlight.

I can’t see.

My foot catches in a hidden hole. Pain tears up my leg as I crash forward, my ankle twisting with a sickening snap. I scream, agony flooding me.

From the shadows, another scream rises, echoing mine. Four long, pale arms emerge, clawed fingers dragging something monstrous through the trees.

It’s coming straight for me.