Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
If Rhett hadn’t pulled him from the river, we would’ve found him. We would’ve had him with us this entire time.
Just one more reason to make Rhett pay.
I’m not angry. I’m beyond that. I’m something else entirely, something feral and savage that I’ve kept buried deep down for far too long.
The man I was before is gone, burned away by the fires of revenge. What’s left is hellish, an unholy fiend that wants to rip and tear and kill.
We hike across the snow-covered terrain in silence, slipping into the frigid night like ghosts.
Born and bred in this frozen hell, we know these hills, this tundra, better than anyone. Every crevice, slope, and jagged boulder is part of us.
Rhett thinks he’s running for his life, but he’s just running deeper into our territory.
Leo, Wolf, and I keep a close eye on Monty. He could easily get lost out here, but he’s tough. And he’s ours. We won’t let anything happen to him.
I breathe in deeply, and the scent of Rhett’s blood hits me like a punch to the face, strong and metallic, hanging in the crisp air.
My pulse quickens. My muscles tighten, and my senses sharpen. He’s bleeding out there, leaving a trail like a wounded animal, and I snarl with anticipation.
“Got him?” Wolf looks at me, his eyes dark with the same need to kill.
“That way.” I lead them a mile into the hills before holding up a hand, stopping them. “Let’s set the trap here.”
Leo helps me place the bear trap in a clearing and carefully covers it with snow.
“We need to corral him near the river.” His eyes glint in the starlight. “We’ll play with him for a while. Then flush him into the trap.”
“Which way?” Monty flexes his gloved hands.
My ears perk at the sound of stumbling footsteps in the distance, each one heavy and desperate.
“North.” I prowl in that direction.
Rhett doesn’t know the dangers that lie in wait, the trap we set, the wolves lurking just out of sight. He doesn’t know he’s being hunted by something far worse than any creature he could imagine.
Dark, violent energy pulses through my veins. The beast is free, and it wants blood. It wants to taste Rhett’s fear, to tear him apart piece by piece, to make him scream for mercy and deny him over and over.
“He raped her,” Wolf says, a gleaming blade dancing between his fingers. “I don’t know how I pulled myself from unconsciousness, but I felt her there, her hand on my lap. I felt her pain, her horror, as he raped her on the table. Somehow, during the assault, she managed to dislodge my IV line. By the time you arrived, I had enough strength to remove hers, too.”
A snarl rips through my chest, my hands tightening around the crossbow until my knuckles go white. Nothing compares to the searing fire that burns inside me. I’m wrath incarnate.
Beside me, Monty turns to ice. Cold. Expressionless. And just as lethal.
Leo seethes, too far gone for words, too consumed by the need for violence, for blood.
We catch up with Rhett quickly and make our presence known, stomping our boots and sending him scrambling toward the river.
It’s instinctual, the way we move and work together. A pack of wolves closing in on our prey.
We spread out around the cliffs, melting into the shadows, not far from the fire pit.
I crouch low, my senses on high alert, listening to the sounds of the night, to the approaching thud of Rhett’s staggering footsteps.
He’s panicking, his breaths bursting fast and loud, his heart beating out of his chest. I hear and feel it all, and it only makes me hungrier.
Minutes later, he lurches into view, spinning in place, frantically scanning the massive boulders surrounding him.
He knows we’re here, senses the danger, and it’s too late to run.
We toy with him, flinging knives from the shadows, each hitting its mark with deadly accuracy. I aim for his limbs, for his flesh, not to kill him, but to hurt him. To make him scream. To make him suffer.
Each time a knife sinks into his skin, I relish the pained hitch of his breath. His steps falter. His head whips around as if he can’t believe what’s happening.
But he knows. Deep down, he knows this is the end.
I raise my crossbow, sight him through the scope, and fire. The bolt punches through his leg with a sickening thud.
His scream rips through the night, echoing off the hills.
Music to my ears.
I let loose another arrow, and it flies true, burying itself in the same leg.
Two more should do it.
I aim them at the same spot, the meaty part of his thigh. Even with his teetering, spinning motions, I nail the target.
Four bolts protrude from his leg, his scream a high-pitched wail that doesn’t end.
He wobbles, whirling, driven by sheer terror, as he takes off toward the trap.