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Arne and Leif were in their wolf forms, barreling toward me at a speed I’d yet to see. Their wolves must’ve sensed their mate was in danger.
I continued to flail and scream, hold onto the trunks of trees, anything to slow down being taken. Arne and Leif reached Bors and had him pinned down in seconds. His hand was off my mouth, and I turned to make sure they had him. I took off at a run toward Gunnar. He was being fought three to one, and I wasn’t going to let him go it alone.
I shifted midair and helped Gunnar get one of the wolves off of him, digging my teeth deep into the attacker’s flesh. Arne and Leif joined me, and in minutes, we had two of them dead and the other took off, whining the entire time.
All of us shifted, but Gunnar was worse for the wear. He was tough and strong and they knew it. That was why three of them had attacked him.
“What happened to my uncle?” I asked, frantically scrutinizing the surrounding area for him.
Leif dropped his gaze to the ground. “We had to make a choice. We couldn’t let one of your mates die. Even if we had killed Bors, if Gunnar had lost this battle, you would be heartbroken and empty.”
Arne sat down, plopping into the dirt. “We had to make a choice.” He looked over his shoulder at where Bors once was. “We lost him again.”
