Page 27 of Beautiful Butterfly

“Where are you?” Cannon asked, alarm in his voice.

Alister had seen a sign before they’d made the turn off the main road, but he hadn’t paid any attention to it. “I don’t know,” he said with a deep, rasping sob. “We came to the forest for a run. I can’t remember what the sign said.”

The phone beeped. Alister pulled it away and saw the call had dropped. He tried again but was met with dead air. He cursed and glanced up just as Wyatt buried his claws behind the blond’s ear. Alister lost the ability to blink when the guy exploded into dust.

No bones, flesh, or blood. Just swirling specks of fine powder floating toward the ground.

With a violent thrust, the dark-haired hellhound drove a long, menacing blade into Wyatt’s side then twisted the weapon. Just as Wyatt pivoted to face the hellhound, the guy yanked the blood-soaked blade out and plunged it deep into Wyatt’s gut.

“No!” A gut-wrenching scream ripped from Alister’s throat as he slammed his hands against the window.

Wyatt shifted, but the hellhound was lightning fast, stabbing the feline in the side two times before the cheetah had a chance to attack. The cheetah collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.

“Wyatt.” Alister’s wailing turned into fury. With a vicious snarl, he threw open the door and lunged at the hellhound with unsheathed claws.

Pulling back his arm, Alister slashed ferociously at the guy’s face, leaving behind four deep gashes.

Blood spilled from the wounds, staining the hellhound’s left cheek and dripping down his jaw. The guy tried to grab Alister, but he dodged and embedded his claws into the hellhound’s left calf, pulling hard to inflict maximum damage.

Alister was consumed by a searing, all-consuming pain at seeing Wyatt lying in a pool of his own blood. The man he loved, who had been his everything, was just cruelly ripped away from him.

He was no longer Wyatt’s butterfly.

The pain was too unbearable, too excruciating, tearing at his soul with every beat of his heart.

And in its place, a rage that burned brightly, fueled by the emptiness and anguish of losing his mate.

A menacing growl erupted from the hellhound as Alister went for the guy’s back, determined to destroy the son of a bitch’s spine. But before he could strike, his hair was seized with such force it felt like he was being scalped.

Alister screamed and thrashed, desperately holding onto the man’s wrist as he was lifted to his feet.

The hellhound leaned in close, fire and brimstone burning in his eyes. “If I weren’t bound by the bargain, I would take great pleasure in making you suffer for the rest of your pathetic existence.”

The hellhound had already gotten his wish with Wyatt’s death.

“Fuck. You.” Alister spat in his face.

A cruel smile spread across the man’s lips. “It is you who is fucked, pretty boy.”

With a powerful blow, he struck Alister in the jaw, knocking him out cold.

* * * *

As Wyatt slowly regained consciousness, the harsh rays of the sun forced his eyes open, blinding him for a moment. The cheerful chirping of birds and the earthy scent of pine filled his senses as he struggled to get his bearings.

He was lying on rough, unforgiving ground surrounded by towering trees that seemed to swallow up the sky.

But it was the unmistakable metallic smell of blood that jolted him fully awake.

Alister!

Anguish hammered Wyatt as he realized he’d failed to protect his mate. The person who’d paid Sloane had also summoned hellhounds to retrieve Alister. Now, Wyatt was at a loss on how to find his mate or even the identity of the buyer.

Pushing himself off the ground, he checked his injuries, relieved that they had fully healed. He got into his car and reached for his phone in the cup holder.

The time and date displayed on his phone indicated that he had been unconscious for just under thirteen hours.

There were also twenty missed calls from Cannon, as well as missed calls from Sheriff Harper, Denali, and Morgan.

---