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The man started toward me with dangerous intent written across his face.
Out of nowhere, two of our wolves came flying from the fog. One tackled his legs, and the other crashed into his shoulders. He fell under the sudden onslaught of snarling fangs.
He landed under one of the wolves. The snarling wolf tried to savage his gun arm, but he managed to get the barrel against the wolf’s throat. The wolf’s head dissolved into a pile of aerosolized blood.
I let out a gasp, barely audible, and his gaze met mine. He looked at me as if he were coming for me.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I whispered to Dylan, pulling his face against my stomach so he wouldn’t see the violence. “If I tell you to run, baby, you run and hide. You did a good job hiding before. Just come out if you hear me calling you.”
I couldn’t conceal the shake in my voice. I gripped his hand tightly so I wouldn’t lose him in the mist and gunpowder and smoke. The two of us crept through it, trying to move silently, as if anyone could hear our footfalls on the gravel over the noise of screaming and gunfire.
The man tried to shoot again, was out of bullets, and tossed the handgun down. The wolf went for his throat, but he caught the enormous wolf, snapped its neck, let it fall.
His gaze locked on me.
Dylan and I ran. As I dragged him with me, I tripped over something on the ground—a body—but kept moving frantically.
I heard the moment Stone came after us, as though every part of my body was attuned to the predator. The faint movement of his feet over the ground seemed to shake me.
We couldn’t outrun him. We had to hide. The road spread to either side of us, but the furious sounds of fighting surrounded us even though we couldn’t see. The mountain rose steeply up away from us, and I tried to gauge if we could climb, but we would be too slow. I wasn’t sure Dylan could climb at all.
He was close. I could feel his presence crackling through the air.
I pushed Dylan into a crack in the rock. “Stay here, whatever happens, baby,” I whispered.
He didn’t answer me. He’d gone mute.
I wanted to get away from him, to lead the man hunting us away, but time was running away like sand beneath my feet. I whirled, trying to figure out where he was and if I had time to get him away from Dylan.
Suddenly, the man loomed in front of me. “Going somewhere, Amelia?”
His voice was cold and deadly. I couldn’t help trembling as I stared up at him.
Chaos was still erupting behind him, a constant rattle of gunfire and screaming, but he seemed to have eyes for nothing but me. That icy gaze was fixed on me, watching, judging.
“Who are you?” I whispered.
With a scoff, he reached for me. His hand gripped my throat, and I sank my nails into his wrist, trying to wrench his hand away.
Lawson slammed into him, out of nowhere.
The two of them crashed into the ground. Lawson’s face was desperate as he struggled to get the upper hand, but the man rolled them both over, slamming his fist into Lawson’s face mercilessly. A terrible, wet sound came from Lawson, and I let out a sound that would’ve been a scream if I could’ve raised my voice.
I tried to lift Dylan to run, because he’d frozen. His arms and legs felt stiff and unyielding; he didn’t wrap his limbs around my waist and cling to me like he normally would have. It felt like trying to carry a bag of rocks at a time when we needed to move.
The man suddenly dropped Lawson, his gaze locking on mine. I took a step back.
Lawson slumped to the ground and didn’t move again, and I let out a strangled whisper of a cry.
“Where were we?” the man asked, mock-politely. He rose from the ground and moved with lightning speed.
The next thing I knew, he pinned me against the rock. Dylan buried his face in my shoulder, and I put a comforting hand on his back, rubbing it absently, automatically. I had a feeling we were about to die, and I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut so I didn’t have to watch, but I had to look for any chance to escape with Dylan.
Then his gaze fell to Dylan, and his eyes widened. For long seconds, he stared at Dylan as if he’d seen a ghost, his fingers still pressing painfully into my throat.
“Is he Brennan’s?” he demanded, emotion breaking through his voice.
I’d always thought the answer to that question would get us killed.
