Page 5 of Lycan’s Hunt

“Please,” Max begs, the word broken, “she hasn’t come up. You have to save her!”

As I peer into the water, I’m met with nothing except darkness, swallowing all hope with it.

“Take him back to the castle,” I command, my gaze locked on the waterfall’s furious cascade. The guards exchange glances, their unease palpable even in the dim light filtering through the trees.

“Your Majesty, we should all search—” begins Damian. I cut him off with a sharp look.

“Max needs to be safe,” I insist, feeling the feral edges of my nature bristle beneath the surface. “Now.”

“Daddy, no!” Max protests, his voice wavering between fear and defiance. “I won’t leave her!”

“Son, if she’s down there,” I say softly, trying to mask the dread that claws at my chest. I don’t finish.

The roar of the waterfall fills my ears as Damian snatches up my thrashing son. I strip off my coat and shirt, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. I embrace the shift. Bones crack and reform, pain and power raging through me as fur replaces skin.

“Soren, what do you think—”

With a growl, I leap into the churning waters below hearing Damian screaming after me. In this form my body can take a battering and heal quickly.

The impact with the water is like a hard slap, stinging my skin and temporarily driving the air from my lungs. I battle the rapid currents, my powerful limbs slicing through the water. The icy water bites at my fur the force of the waterfall is relentless as my hands brush against sharp rocks beneath me.

My eyes, accustomed to the dark, catch sight of her—Bree’s limp form caught and pushed into the rocks at the bottom, the water beating down on her. There’s no time to hesitate; every second she remains submerged is a second too long. I reach her, my hands gripping her arm as I try to drag her out. With powerful kicks, I propel us toward the surface. Breaking through the water’s grip, we emerge into the night air, Bree limp in my arms as I drag her closer, clutching her to my chest.

With a final effort, I surge toward the nearby riverbank. My claws dig into the wet soil, pulling us out of the water. The moment we’re clear of the river’s grasp, I slump back, breathless. Bree’s body is lifeless in my arms, her skin deathly pale in the moonlight. I shake her gently, calling her name, but receive no response. Panic rises in my throat, choking me. “Bree!” I growl out again, more desperate this time. She can’t be gone. Not after everything.

Her chest is still. No gentle rise and fall that indicates life. I press my ear against her chest searching for a heartbeat? A gasp? A sign she is alive.

Nothing.

My hands move to her chest, as I try to remember how to do CPR. “Come on, Bree!” I murmur, pressing my hands onto her sternum in a rhythmic motion, trying to force her heart to beat. “Don’t do this!” I continue chest compressions, my heart pounding with each passing second. It’s been too long since she’s taken her last breath. Too long since that spark in her eyes dimmed out. But I can’t—won’t—give up on her.

I tilt back her head and pinch her nose closed, taking a deep breath before sealing my mouth over hers and breathing into it. Two breaths before I resume the chest compressions. My ears strain for any sounds of life over the deafening rush of the waterfall nearby. “Breathe,” I implore, my voice choking with dread. “Please, Bree.” I beg as my guard rushes down toward us.

The night air grows colder. My arms are tiring but I don’t dare stop. Not until I hear it, a faint cough, weak but undoubtedly there.

Suddenly, her body convulses beneath me. Water gushes from her mouth and nose as she sputters. Her eyes snap open dazed and confused.

She gasps for air, raggedly drawing in lungfuls as she continues to cough up water. Beneath my hand, there’s now the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t there before.

Adrenaline rushes through me as I roll her onto her side. She chokes, coughing out water in painful wheezes. Her body shudders with the effort, but she’s breathing.

“Bree!” My voice rumbles out in relief as I gently stroke back strands of hair from her face.

As she fights for breath, moonlight reveals the cruelty she has endured. Large gashes mar her flesh, which must be caused by the dead rogue Damian found. Cradling her close, I lift her into my arms.

“Stay with me, Bree,” I urge, my voice rough with the remnants of my Lycan growl. “You’re safe now.”

Her eyes flutter open, and she meets my gaze. There is no need for words; her gratitude, intermingled with pain, conveys more than language ever could. Silence wraps around us, punctuated only by her labored breathing and the distant sound of the waterfall.

“Max?” she chokes out.

“You didn’t hurt him,” I tell her when her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, and I see the moon’s reflection in them as her shift takes hold in my arms. Damian and my guard step forward, ready to subdue her, but one growl from me has them backing up.

“Get my son home and unlock the observatory!” I order just as her teeth tear into my arm. I growl as she rips at my flesh before forcing the shift back to my Lycan form. I’m not letting her go, I’m not leaving her out here unprotected.