Page 27 of The Warrior's Captive

“If they’re near.”

“Can you run this far? If you can’t, you need to let me know now. I’ll make another plan.”

“I can run.”

“Can you outrun rogue wolves if they’re coming after you? Can you outsmart them?”

“How the fuck should I know?” She looked like she was going into shock. She was shaking harder now.

“Briar May.” He took her hand and thrust it into his leg again. She immediately squeezed like just that touch grounded her. “You’re not going to try to run straight at them again, are you?”

“I only did that to save the kids.”

“But you won’t try to save me. I need you to promise. You won’t turn around, you won’t stop, you won’t try to make a stand. Promise.”

“I can’t promise that!” Tears started streaking down her cheeks.

They sent such rage shooting through him that he knew he’d have zero trouble tearing anyone apart who threatened her. He thought he knew what real anger was, real rage, that blackout zone where a person was lost inside a haze to the point of a total memory wash, that berserker state. He tried never to go there because that got a person killed. The mind was as much a weapon as the body. Take that away and a person was left with pretty much nothing at all.

But those tears…

The thought of what his pack would do to Briar May if they caught her, painted red on the inside of his skull and shot a ripping pain through his chest so staunch that he threw up a hand, afraid that he’d been hit by a bullet he’d never seen or heard coming.

“You have to promise me. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You can’t sacrifice yourself. I won’t let you.”

“I have no plans on doing anything heroic or noble. I’m a killer, Briar May, not a white knight or a prince charming. The only reason I’ll stop is if I need to. I won’t let them take you. I’ll do what I’m trained for if it comes to that.”

Her throat worked hard and kept working, like she was trying to hold back sobs or trying to get words out, but they were too hot to make it past the blockage there. Fear. It had to be terror stopping it up.

There wasn’t time left to argue. He jerked the car over to the side of the road and killed the engine. He threw his door open and raced around to hers. He took her arm and then planted his hands on both of them. He squeezed gently. There were no words. He’d used them all up already.

She stumbled from him but gained her footing. It only took her a second and then she was running, kicking off her shoes and pulling at her clothes. She went right for the trees, and as soon as she crossed into their protective shelter, she let the shift happen. He was so used to the sound of limbs aligning, of bones snapping and reknitting, that it didn’t sound so loud to him, even though the air was perfectly still, and the day was calm. The sun was shining happily. If people thought bad shit only happened on rainy, stormy days, they were dead wrong.

Briar May was a beautiful wolf. She was all sleek white hair until the ruff around her throat and then the fur glistened silver tipped. She did look back. She hesitated. He’d promised to be right behind her. It would only take whoever had been in that SUV a few minutes to get turned around.

He wrenched the bag holding his axes from the car and left everything but them. Once in wolf form, he could loop it around his neck—not ideal and if they’d been in a less dire situation, he’d have shifted first and gotten her to put the handles through his legs like a halter—but it would have to do. He couldn’t leave his axes behind. He could do nothing against their pursuers if he was weaponless. His body and his wolf might be enough for any regular human or even a regular shifter, but anyone from his pack, even the children, were far from regular.

He raced for the trees, all his senses inflamed, but he heard no one pursuing them so far. Maybe they wouldn’t loop around. Maybe they’d come out in front of them somewhere. He had to be attuned to that possibility as well. He’d already put them in mortal danger by being distracted, now he had to be ready for anything. His wolf was better served in every way to protect them, so as soon as the trees sheltered him from view, he let his wolf out.

The wolf was a huge beast by anyone’s standards, but he could tell by the way Briar May paused and stared that even she was astounded. He loped up beside her this way, he could watch every angle. At her side, he’d be able to stand between her and the rest of the world.

They ran.

He was right beside her, but she was the one leading the way. He was certain, from what he remembered, that they were heading in the right direction.

They ran until Briar May’s stamina started to flag. He was panting hard as well, even with his training, and the axes lopping against his back were certain to leave dark, painful bruises. The scenery flashed by, their paws flying, churning up earth in spots, pounding over it in others. They flashed through trees and across fields, by roads and bounded over ditches. Mostly it was the woods, which both hid them and left them vulnerable to an attack they couldn’t see.

At last, when his lungs were burning and every gulp of air seemed to contain liquid fire, he sensed Briar May’s excitement. Instead of attuning his senses to danger, he inhaled deeper and focused. He couldn’t scent her pack yet, but she clearly could. Her body language changed, growing excited. She pushed her head down and doubled their frantic pace, even though she couldn’t have had much of anything left to give.

A howl from behind him chilled his blood. That howl was straight rage, and it was close.

He pulled up as soon as he heard the cries. He should have left them dead, his only thought at the time had been to get Briar May to safety, and in the heat of the moment he’d thought that killing Zeus and Apollo would result in worse fallout. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and now he realized that dead or alive, his pack would have sought vengeance. But perhaps if he’d killed them, it might have bought them more time. Thankfully, they hadn’t been able to wrap around in front and cut them off. He’d probably been correct in assuming that Zeus and Apollo stayed behind, waiting in case they turned around. The turning back was probably the only thing that saved them from running headlong into anyone else from his pack. They hadn’t been able to make their way to them yet.

He turned at another wicked howl. It rattled through the woods, a wolf ready to do battle.

He knew the huge gray wolf, Apollo and the slimmer black one, Zeus. No one else. They were alone or they would have spread out and cut off any means of escape. The only thing that might yet save Briar May was that one slipup they’d made, missing them at the exit. Sometimes life was more about chance and luck than skill.

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