Page 34 of Never Tamed (Bad Wolves #3)

Dax

T he storm is a living thing.

Snow whips at my face, icy spikes slicing across my skin.

The wind howls between the skeletal trees, drowning out all sound but the thunder in my chest. My body runs hot despite the cold, sweat slicking my back beneath the layers.

My wolf prowls just under my skin, restless, snarling, begging me to let him free.

And I will. Soon.

I can smell him.

Andras.

The scent slithers through the blizzard, familiar but foreign. Like death itself. It clings to the forest like a sickness, heavy enough to choke on. He’s close. Every muscle in me tightens with the promise of violence. My favorite thing.

This is it.

No more waiting. No more holding back.

I promised myself I wouldn’t do this alone, that I’d wait for the others, but rage makes promises into lies. He took everything from me—my parents, my baby sister, my old life—and I’ve waited too long already.

Every crunch of snow beneath my bare feet is a drumbeat in my ears. I see my mother’s smile. My father’s steady, reserved expression. My sister’s tiny body curled against me as I hummed her to sleep.

They’re gone. All gone.

Because of him.

The storm parts just enough for me to see a figure through the whiteout. A shadow, broad-shouldered, standing unnaturally still between the trees. Watching. Waiting.

My pulse spikes, blood pounding so hard I can hear it. I don’t hesitate. My wolf surges forward mid-stride, my bones snapping, muscles stretching, flesh tearing only to knit again and sprout fur. I’m on all fours in an instant, and I rush at him at full speed.

With a snarl ripping out of my throat, I lunge.

We collide in an explosion of sound and fury, my weight slamming his human form into the snow.

My claws rain down on him, slicing at his jaw, his temple, and his ribs.

Each swipe lands with a slice of skin and a spray of blood, which spatters across the white ground.

I want to rip out his entrails, feast on his demise.

I want to crush every bone in his body until there’s nothing left.

But as I’m ripping and biting at him, he… he laughs.

Laughs .

It’s a low, guttural sound that bubbles with blood. It’s so strange that I pause.

That’s when he straightens, grabs me by the scruff of my neck like I weigh no more than a bunny rabbit, and tosses me into a nearby tree so hard, the trunk snaps in half.

It happens so fast, so unexpected, that when the pain explodes and my ribs crack, it takes me a moment to realize what’s happened.

I land hard on top of the tree’s splintery stump, and the split wood sticks into my side.

I try to push up, but my legs buckle at first. He laughs again, and that same laugh echoes from my memory.

“So this is Grey Valley’s notorious killer? The rabid mut they keep on a leash? Pathetic. Is that truly the best you can do?”

Gritting my teeth, I get up. Boy, am I going to enjoy tearing this fucker to shreds.

Right then, he starts to suck in deep breaths, his body growing bigger before my eyes. His jaw extends, teeth elongate into fangs as long as fingers, and his eyes flash red, like burning coals.

He’s changing.

That means it’s the perfect time to attack, when he’s the most vulnerable in his half-shifted state. I run at him and pounce.

But even as his body is convulsing, twisting, he manages to swipe out his arm before I can land and knocks me right off my feet.

I roll in the snow, and when I look up, fur as black as tar erupts from his skin.

It’s as if his wolf has completely swallowed his human form, and now what stands in front of me is more than animal.

Not a wolf, but a monster.

He towers over me, massive enough that the ground shudders beneath his paws. He’s bigger than any alpha wolf I’ve ever seen, even bigger than me. His shadow alone swallows me whole, his breath creating a massive cloud in the air.

For a heartbeat, fear punches through me, sharp and cold. My wolf falters. But then rage takes over, hotter than blood, hotter than fire.

We hit like a meteor. My jaws lock on his shoulder and my teeth sink deep into muscle. Blood gushes hot and metallic into my mouth. He snarls, thrashes, but I don’t let go. I claw at his flank, shredding fur and flesh.

Victory surges. I’ve got him. I’ve—

With a brutal jerk, he throws me off. I land in a heap two feet away. My vision swims, the edges red, but I force myself upright. Blood drips from my muzzle. His, not mine. And I growl.

He’s waiting. Unfazed. Smiling with those ruby-red eyes.

The look guts me worse than any claw. I remember it. The memory floods to the forefront, and I see my father’s wolf body again, broken, lifeless, and skinned of all its fur. And my mother…

I roar and throw myself at Andras.

We clash. Teeth against teeth, claws against claws. Blood sprays in arcs across the snow. His jaws snap for my throat; I twist away and sink my teeth into his leg. He howls, the sound shaking the trees. His claws rake across my flank, tearing fur, ripping flesh. Agony blinds me, but I don’t stop.

We are a storm within a storm, a blur of gold and black, of blood and snow and snarls. Every impact rattles the earth, every wound is another reminder that I can’t afford to lose. Not again.

He’s bigger. Stronger. Smarter. But I’m fighting for them. For my mother’s laugh, my father’s devotion, for my sister’s tiny hand gripping mine. For every night I hummed to her in the dark to help get her to sleep.

Andras slams me into the ground, his paw pinning me by the chest. Claws dig deep, puncturing skin and muscle, and press down until my ribs creak. I thrash, snapping my jaws, but his weight crushes the fight out of me.

My lungs burn, and my vision begins to tunnel.

He lowers his muzzle. His breath is hot and reeks of blood.

Then, his face ripples. The muscles in his shoulders and arms constrict and shrink. The fur sheds away to only pale skin and human limbs. And soon, Andras as a man is perched over me. Still a beast, even in this form. Just a different kind.

His weight has lightened, but only slightly. I’m still pinned and badly hurt. I buck and twist as violently as I can, but all it does is hurt my broken bones and open wounds. I snap for him but he’s holding me just out of reach for my jaws to catch any flesh.

Fuck. I can’t fight him off.

“You’re as pitiful as your father,” he spits. “Your whole bloodline was a stain on our kind. Too weak to be called wolves. They were better suited as rugs.”

I snarl.

“Well,” Andras starts, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth as his face hovers over mine. “Maybe not all. I did enjoy fucking your sister.”

The world stops.

Gracie girl?

He…fucked…my sister?

My raging emotions force the shift to rocket through me, and before I know it, I’m a human once again. Still pinned like a mouse caught by a lion. Fingers raking the earth, I throw myself left and right, desperate to break free and tear him apart.

“You’re lying,” I bark once I have my voice again. It’s impossible. “My sister’s dead. Dead. You killed her.”

“Ah, well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Andras drawls, his southern accent more prominent. He leans closer, and his long, greasy black hair hangs around me, boxing me in. “Your little Gracie grew up under my care. Became my mate.”

“You’re lying!” I’m shaking all over.

“It’s a shame Torin didn’t get a taste of her, too. He truly missed out. I trained her well.”

His words spin in my mind. They drag their talons across my skull as they try to take shape and grab hold. Torin? My sister?

It isn’t true. He’s lying. Gracie was just a baby. He killed her. I saw the blood. I saw—

And then he hums.

A soft, low sound. Wrong coming from his mouth, wrong in every possible way. A lullaby.

My lullaby.

The one I used to hum when she didn’t want to sleep. I was the only one who could soothe her; the song had been ours. Our little gift we shared.

He shouldn’t know it. There’s no way he would know…

But Andras continues to hum it to me in a low and mocking tone, as his hands turn wolfish and his claws sink deeper into my chest.

Pain stabs, blood bubbles up, but I’m lost in a torrent of my memories. They drown me. My mother’s hands rocking the cradle. My sister’s weak cry. Her small fist clutching my finger, her trust, her need. The endless nights spent humming, making sure she slept and gained her strength.

Blood. Screams. Chaos.

My wolf whines.

“Gracie… Gracie…” I whisper. “No…”

Andras grins, teeth flashing. His eyes shine with triumph. “She’s mine now. My Catarina.”

Then, with his claws buried into my flesh, he pulls back and rips me wide open.

My scream dies in my throat, choked by blood, and as my world goes dark around me, the lullaby floats from the void, beautiful and haunting, drawing me in.

Calling me home.