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Amora
Frost’shoarse scream cuts off abruptly, and he goes limp.
The sudden silence is deafening. Nobody moves except the shadows still undulating around us as they wait for Quinton’s next order. The five wolves pinning me down with their teeth and paws hardly even breathe, although they don’t release their hold on me. Blood soaks my skin at several points, and the smell of it hangs over us, coppery and warm on the chilled night air.
I stare intently at Frost, trying to figure out if he’s just unconscious… or dead.
My heart wrenches in my chest at the idea he might be gone.
Everything I know about him comes rushing in all at once. His quiet demeanor. His incredible intelligence. The way he so stoically deals with his pain every single day and still manages to keep a softness and innocence about him, hidden behind that mask of ice.
He doesn’t deserve this. Any of what’s happened to him. He didn’t deserve the pain he faced when he was a boy. He didn’t deserve to be used by Quinton for so long. He didn’t deserve to be tortured by his past guilt and his shadows.
He deserves so much better.
With his face slack in unconsciousness, he looks younger than ever. Vulnerable. He looks soft in a way that he never has before. But the truth is, that softness and vulnerability exists in him every day. There’s a lightness inside him, buried down deep beneath the shadows. The world has just beaten him into hiding it.
And now, Quinton has forced even more darkness into him to serve his own purposes.
A feral kind of rage rises up inside me.
Frost isn’t lost. He’s not lost to the light, and he’s not dead.
He can’t be.
I won’t let him be.
The whole clearing has been still for so long that none of Quinton’s pack are even paying attention to me. Not even the wolves restraining me.
So I start thrashing with everything I have.
“Hold her down!” Quinton snaps from Frost’s side, not even bothering to look up from the feral shifter slumped in front of him.
Teeth dig into me from all sides as they attempt to keep me in place. A chorus of growls go up around me, and other wolves begin moving closer to help.
But I’m pissed.
I want to hurt them. I want to make them pay for what they’ve done.
I barrel roll, ignoring the skin tearing from my sides. I rip free of three of the wolves, then swing my head at a fourth, nailing him right in the nose. He yelps and falls away. Before anybody can get a new grip on me, I throw myself sideways, jerking away from the final wolf who holds me.
Then I’m on my feet and running.
Toward Frost.
Toward Quinton.
He’s still looking down at Frost’s still form, rolling his shadow stone in one palm. I’m already airborne before he even realizes I’m coming.
I slam into his chest with the full force of my body. His stone goes flying somewhere into the darkness of the trees, and he sails back, landing hard on his ass. I keep my trajectory over him and hit the ground running, loping back around to help Kian and Malix get free.
But they don’t even need me. They must’ve renewed their struggles at the same time I did and gotten free from the shadows holding them captive. They’re on their feet and growling, stalking toward the remaining pack members with murder in their fiery eyes. Shreds of shadow litter the ground, dissolving before my eyes.
I plant myself over Frost’s still form, my back to Kian and Malix because I know they have it, and turn to face Quinton.
Only… he’s not where I left him. There’s no sign of him, and I definitely can’t tell if the stone is still lying in the dark underbrush somewhere.
The growling intensifies behind me, letting me know that the battle is back on.
A tangle of snarling wolves and shadow shifters rolls over the ground, heading right toward me and Frost. I leap over him to run interference, latching onto a large black wolf’s ear and yanking with everything I have. He whines and falls to the ground in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but he isn’t fast enough to escape Kian’s claws.
Kian nearly takes off his head with one vicious swipe. The shifter gurgles as blood pools inside his severed throat, slowly drowning him in his own fluids.
I meet Kian’s eyes—pale blue and seeming to glow from within in this form—and nod. The chains are off now. There’s no more mercy, no more trying to play nice. These pack shifters all chose their side, and it was the wrong damn one. If they’re willing to fight for Quinton, they’d better be willing to die for him.
Glancing over Kian’s shoulder, I see Malix use his jaws to break another wolf’s neck. Neither of them are holding back anymore, trying to knock out or incapacitate instead of kill. Whatever connection they felt with their pack has been as broken as that shifter’s vertebrae.
It was destroyed when Quinton hurt Frost.
The last straw.
Now, it’s war.
I knock another wolf down, and Malix tramples him, claws digging into the shifters eyeballs. Yips and howls from the remaining wolves fill the air as they fight their hardest, but something has clicked between the three of us, as if we’re united by our combined fury. I dart between the two shadow shifters, knocking victims into their wake, putting the pack shifters exactly where they need to be to be annihilated. We move together like a well-oiled machine, spilling blood, tearing skin, breaking limbs.
Ending this.
A few shadows attempt to take Malix and Kian down again, but the shadow shifters are ready for them now—high on the rage of battle. They tear the creatures to shreds, then follow up with a couple more wolves.
Finally, the remaining shadows and pack shifters begin to flee. Quinton is still nowhere to be seen, probably already running away to lick his wounds and plan a new attack. Fucking coward.
Let’s get out of here, Kian barks in mind speak as another one of our attackers drops to the ground. Grab Frost and put him on my back. You too, Amora. I’ll need you to keep him steady.
I shift back quickly and obey his command without question. Frost’s limp body feels colder than usual, and his dead weight would probably be too much for a normal human woman.
Good thing I’m a shifter. I may not be as powerful as these three men, but I’m no slouch.
Kian drops low to the ground, and I clamber up onto his shadowy back, dragging Frost with me while Malix offers assistance with his snout. I pin the blond man down with my torso and hiss, “Go!”
Then we’re on the move.
Blood from my wounds soaks Frost’s abnormally pale skin, but I cling to him with one arm while my other hand fists Kian’s fur tightly. I know this is a lot for Kian to handle—two grown adults on his back as he runs. But it hardly seems to weigh him down at all. He sprints flat-out through the trees, dodging trunks and leaping over fallen logs with an easy grace that astonishes me.
For the first time, I understand the protectiveness in him that Malix told me about. Nothing in this world will stop Kian right now, not until he gets us to safety. He’s doing this for his brother, of course… but for me, as well.
My arm slips precariously around Frost’s neck. Blood from some gash on my skin smears on him, mingling with his own and gleaming darkly in the dim moonlight. I haven’t even had a chance to take stock of my injuries, but I’m alive, and that’s all that matters.
