Page 96 of The Thief

His crushing grip on my throat cut off my oxygen.

I clawed at his wrist in a futile attempt to break his hold.

“I could end you now. Crush the life out of you like the juice from a grape. You mean nothing to me anymore. You could have had such power—such wealth. Traitor!” He squeezed hard with his gloved hand, choking me. “Do you want to die? All you have to do is give it to me!”

I blindly swung my fist and knocked him in the eye.

His breath was on me, his long hair brushing against the sides of my face. “I know you better than you know yourself. The only reason you would vanish is to steal from me. What did you take? Tell me!”

My lungs desperately fought for air as white flashes twinkled like exploding fireworks.

I’m dying. Please stop!

But he couldn’t read my lips, and he certainly couldn’t hear my voice, which was silenced. My lungs ached with the breath trapped.

When he eased his grip, I gasped for air.

“Tell me!” he roared.

I coughed uncontrollably, my windpipe aching as if his hands were still squeezing it shut. Blood trickled down my scalp like a river. With Argento straddling me, I called for my wolf, but she must have been knocked out, because I didn’t sense her.

I scratched and clawed his face in a desperate fight for my life.

Argento reeled back. Seconds later, his bare hand clutched my throat again. When he blasted me with energy, it broke free a memory. Not the kind that plays out in your head like a movie but a physical memory. My body remembered what it was like to be hit with Mage energy—as powerful as touching an electric fence. Every cell in my body burned from the inside out, making it difficult to move.

“Tell me what you stole!” he roared.

Then it hit me—as long as Argento didn’t know what I had, he was at my mercy. He couldn’t even rob us without knowing what to look for. Despite his threats, he needed me alive. That gave me courage.

“You’ll never have it. Never!”

He gripped my jaw. “When your Packmaster tosses you out like garbage, who will protect you then? The longer you wait, Mercy Breedlove, the more unforgiving my wrath. Sooner or later, I will win. Then it will be too late and you will have lost something that matters. How much are you willing to lose in the process? What say you?”

I spat in his face and swung my fist. His teeth clicked together, which gave me a small victory. Then vertigo hit me hard, and I spun like a top into the darkness. Moments before everything went black, Argento kicked me so hard that I rolled face-first in the dirt.

Bars surrounded my wolf and me, and I wrapped my arms around her sultry black-and-grey coat, drowning in the bottomless silence.

“It’ll be okay, won’t it?” I asked, but all she did was howl a solitary note that made my heart tremble.

Is this death?

Images flickered all around us like pictures in a theater. Argento running me off the road, flying through the darkness, his hands around my throat. Then the images distorted, and it was Bear he was chasing. I watched him blast my love with energy before kicking him repeatedly in the face. Then he knelt, brandished a knife, and slit his throat. Bear’s eyes widened. He clutched the open wound, but it was too late to save him. His life poured out, and his beautiful spirit left his eyes, leaving behind a dull, fixed gaze.

As I stared at Bear’s lifeless body, the pitch of my bloodcurdling screams rose higher.

“Mercy, wake up.”

It’s Bear’s voice. But how? He’s dead.

“You’re dreaming,” I heard him say. “We’re here. You’re safe at home.”

Then it came back—my confrontation with Argento, the darkness, and then waking up on Milly’s table and shifting to heal. The part about Argento killing Bear was so fresh and vivid that the nightmares tangled with memories.

“It’s only a dream.” Bear wiped his thumb across my cheeks as he held me to him.

Coming out of those memories was like crawling out of a tar pit. It was still stuck to me, the sticky coating impossible to get off. I sniffled and realized I’d been crying in my sleep.

“You’re okay,” he whispered while stroking my face.

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