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His head goes down, and I rush toward him, my heart pounding in my ears.
Chapter Two
Scratch
Irunthroughthewoods, chasing down Fenrir’s wolf, still dazed by what I just heard and witnessed with my own eyes and ears. The casual viciousness, and the vulnerability of our innocent mate was enough to stun me into inaction. Seeing Lita lying there in the grass while those evil men talked about what they wanted to do to her made my head spin.
I am glad Scar was able to take charge, because I was frozen in that moment.
His order is what it took to get me to move, to force me into action.
Now, I’m close to capturing one of the men who would have tortured and killed my mate, and I know exactly what needs to be done to him once I’ve caught him.
He runs as fast as he can run, but I can run faster.
I push myself hard and I catch up, ready to kill.
It’s as easy as hunting small animals for dinner.
I launch myself at him and snap my jaws over the side of his neck. He moves, and I tear off a chunk of his face instead. He squirms under me, panic setting in as he tries vainly to push me away. He does not believe it is too late, but it is over for him now.
I bite down on his shoulder, his side and his chest.
He is missing several strips of flesh when I stop using my fangs.
He takes the moment’s reprieve to return to his human form, perhaps expecting to speed the healing process of his wounds. He is breathing hard when he looks up at me, fear in his eyes.
His injuries are verging on fatal. If he was merely human, he’d be dead already.
As a shifter, he is holding on to life by the tips of his fingernails.
This petrified thing does not know he is a chimera, and he does not deserve to be told.
Not after what I heard he and his brothers planned to do to my mate.
For that he should die alone with no advantages.
“What are you?” he whispers.
“I am who you could have been,” I tell him. “Who you never were.”
He frowns, not understanding. There is no time left to help him.
He’s slipping away now. Soon he’ll be gone.
“Do you regret anything?” I ask.
He lays back and stares up at the night sky.
I’m not sure if he can hear me.
His eyes are glazing over.
He is almost gone.
“I wish things had been different …” he murmurs, before he turns on his side and coughs up blood.
He stops moving a few seconds after that, and I wait a moment to check his pulse.
