2
The wolf’s soft growl vibrating through his chest is my first sign that something isn’t right.
My tired eyes snap open to find a dark shadow hovering over me as his strong hand curls around my ankle. I get the smallest glimpse of Roman, his face masked by darkness with nothing but rage pulsing through his dark eyes. In a split second, he turns his back to me, his long hair pulled up into a messy nest as the late moonlight shines through the opening of the cave.
A loud gasp pulls from deep within me, my eyes widening in disbelief. It’s not possible. The odds were stacked against him. There were too many of them. He should be dead.
Blood splatters cover his skin, his once white shirt completely stained deep red, but it’s impossible to tell what percentage of that blood is his. He was shot only a few hours ago. He should be passed out on the ground, withering in pain, not traipsing through the woods searching out his next slaughter.
His nails bite into my flesh and a strangled scream gets stuck in my throat as he tugs on my ankle, pulling me after him. My back slams to the ground with a heavy thud and I cry out, my body too tired and exhausted to fight him off.
“NOOOO,” I whimper, frantically trying to pull myself free, knowing that after the bullshit he’s just endured at his father’s hands, there won’t be any more games. He means business, and this time, he won’t be fucking around. Chasing me through the castle and listening to the fear in my voice as I cried, whimpered, and screamed was just his warmup. Shooting out the tires of my getaway car, that was the pre-game, but now, he’s ready for the main event, and I know he won’t stop until my heart is nothing but a scarred, steaming mess at his feet.
Roman drags me through the entrance of the cave, my back scraping against the hard, uneven rock as the big wolf falls in beside Roman without another glance my way. He knows his master and he will be loyal until his dying days.
Vertigo hits me, the sudden movements proving too much for my exhausted body. “Stop,” I cry, pulling against my ankle, using my other foot to slam into his wrist and hoping that in some twisted turn of fate that I can get myself free, but even if I did, where would I go? Roman DeAngelis is a fucking beast. He would track me down in seconds, his big-ass wolf sniffing me out like a juicy steak with his name on it. “Let me go.”
Each word painstakingly torn from my throat is like a whimper of defeat. I can cry and fight until my world turns black, but we both know there’s only one end game here. All along, all the pain, fear, and terror, it was all just leading to this, but I’m not surprised. Despite their wild promises not to hurt me, I always knew my time in this world was limited.
Twigs, stones, and low branches scrape over my skin as my head continues to spin, bouncing against every rock in its path. I try to grip my stomach, the blood still seeping out of me in painful waves, but I can’t do this much longer. The darkness is coming and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen when the sun decides to shine again.
“Please,” I sob, tears streaking down my bloodstained face as my heel presses against his hand, desperately trying to push it off my sprained ankle. “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.”
I repeat those words over and over again, hoping just once he might stop to hear me, but it’s fruitless. He’s not a man to change his mind. He sees things right to the end, no matter how fucked up they might be. He’s a fucking psycho through and through. A goddamn heathen with a hard-on for death.
Fucking hell. Why did I have to be kidnapped by a bunch of fucked-up brothers with daddy issues?
“Roman,” I cry, demanding his attention but getting nothing but his back. “ROMAN. FUCKING HEAR ME. I DIDN’T DO THIS. LET ME GO.”
A frustrated growl tears through his chest and in the same moment, he releases my ankle, dropping my body weight to the hard ground with a loud thump. He spins on me, his tall, wide frame looming over me like a wicked stalker closing in on his latest obsession. The wolf stops, turning to watch my inevitable fall from grace, not even a hint of remorse in his jet-black eyes.
My heels dig into the ground, catching against a fallen branch and I use it to push myself back, my hands trembling the closer he gets. “I hear you,” he tells me, his deep tone low and filled with a deadly venom, a sound that sends chills sweeping down my spine. His head tilts to the side, that angry scar daring me to try and run. “The only problem is you were the only one there. The gun was in your hands. The guilt and blame rests on your shoulders, and now my brother is dead.”