Page 25 of Never Submit

No one should have to live without hope, the way I’d been before Mathis found me here.

My thoughts tangle together, working over and among themselves until it’s an impossible mess in my head. My throat closes so that each inhalation becomes a struggle.

No.

I’m not fractured anymore. I’m not fucking broken no matter what everyone says. Or what I think about myself.

Shoving those thoughts aside takes work, and by thetime I find my stride again, I’m still not okay. I'll never be okay, but at least I know what I’m good at. My only use.

Revenge.

I’m thirsty for it, itching to punish whoever stands in my path. As long as it gets me closer to Red, whether in life or in death. I’ll go down fighting if I have to.

I won’t have to.

There ahead, through the trees. There’s an echo of the path we took, and within our tangled scents, like a beacon in the dark, the ghost of Red. Her memory stands out even among the alphas and their betas like the brightness of her hoodie.

It takes me way longer than I thought to track back up the mountain path, but it’s faster without a nearly dead human dragging us down. Faster but still not fast enough because every day we wasted back in our territories cost us lead time.

I’m not close to the top of the mountain, but it’s like crossing over an invisible electric fence. Something in the quality of the air changes and sets my teeth grinding.

A scream cuts through the air.

The thin, reedy quality of it does nothing to disguise the pure terror in the sound.

I shift to high alert and pivot on my back legs.

I’m coming, Red.

She’s here.

Somewhere through the trees and the snow.

I lurch into a gallop, cutting a path through the white flakes and black tree trunks, heading toward the source of the scream.

Within seconds, her scent is an explosion of color in a monochromatic world and there she is, pumping her arms for speed as she tries to outrun four men.

They reek of the wolves we fought at the temple. The ones who attacked us without warning, after destroying the ancient shrine and desecrating the place devoted to the goddess. The ones who tried to steal the Moonstone.

Andras. And his men, fighting with a shadowy figure in the snow.

Red. It’s her.

The metallic tang of blood fills my nose next, and I see it–the color red–painting the snow around her.

I’ve got to hurry.

My howl cuts through the air. Red freezes at the sound, but one of the wolves plows into her back and sends them both flying forward into a snowdrift.

The other two move toward me, while the third watches.

Black overtakes the edges of my vision, and it’s a simple matter to let any hint of humanity fade as my wolf rises to overtake me completely.

Time to destroy them.

Loping, I throw myself at the man covering Red with his body, his paws on her wrists and his lips peeled back in a wolfish smirk. His buddy tries to block me before I get to them but they’re too slow. So fucking slow. I dodge the first and land on the second, my teeth shredding his throat and showering Red with blood.

She gasps, fear flickering in her gaze. I turn away and take most of the dude’s throat with me, gulping it down and savoring the sweet coppery taste of him.

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