Page 266 of Heart of Frost and Scars

61

Leonid

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Rage.

That’s too small a word to describe the thing inside me.

It’s a war drum pounding in my ears, the blood vessels popping in my eyes, and the hellfire blazing through every nerve and tendon.

My fury is elemental, burning hot and violent, scorching reason and restraint into ash.

Hoss is the last place Frankie ever wanted to see again. The thought of her there, dragged back to her personal hell, locks my jaw tight enough to break my teeth. But I can’t unclench it.

I fight to breathe, to remember the techniques. Inhale, count, exhale. But with each breath, I swallow glass. Each exhalation vomits fire.

My fingers curl around an invisible neck.

Rhett Howell.

I grip the armrest of my seat until my knuckles turn white.

Rhett is dead. He just doesn’t know it yet. He doesn’t know that the moment he touched Frankie, the moment he fucking raped her, he signed his death warrant.

We’re his apex predators, his torturers, and his executioners. Our wrath commands us. Our love for Frankie rules us.

Beside me, Monty pilots the bush plane with cold determination, his eyes focused on the horizon as if nothing else exists.

He thrives on control. He built his empire on it and ruled over others with it. But right now, the only control he’s clinging to is the one keeping this plane in the air.

When we received the photo, I glimpsed what lies beneath his steely exterior, the brutality he’s capable of inflicting. He destroyed the front room of the estate in under five seconds.

He won’t hesitate to kill.

Rhett saw it, too. He watched us through our phones and listened to every word we said until we boarded this plane.

But we haven’t spoken, not once since we received his instructions.

We don’t need words to communicate. In the soundless language of our eye contact, the three of us made a plan, boarded this plane, and destroyed our phones.

The avionics communication system is disabled, but we know Rhett’s tracking us through the plane’s GPS system.

Behind me, Kody remains chillingly motionless. He’s a shadow, dark and ominous, more animal than human. His eyes fix on something only he can see. He’s our hunter, and tonight, he’ll hunt something more than just flesh. He’ll hunt for retribution, for justice, for the blood that was taken from us.

The anticipation of violence twitches through my muscles and prickles my skin.

I see her face behind my eyelids. Those green eyes hold my entire world in them. I hear her laugh, soft and sweet, like the whisper of snow on the wind.

Then I see her terror, the pain, the horror of that place, that cabin, and my control shatters. I want to tear something apart, crush and sunder until there’s nothing left but a boneyard of vengeance.

The harness digs into my chest as I lean forward. The rampage inside me sharpens, becomes a blade, cold and deadly, ready to be unleashed.

The plane jolts as Monty dips low, skims the familiar ridge of a gorge, and follows the river that rushes between the cliffs.

He follows it north toward the hills on the horizon.

Our hills.

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