Page 71 of Shadow Bound

“No.”

“She didn’t want you to attack me?” That makes sense. Nessa wants me for herself, she’d never take the cowardly way out and send someone else to do it. She wants to spill my blood as much as I want to spill hers.

“She and the man—the wolf—sent us ahead to watch you. They’re busy collecting the rest,” he grits. My fingers tap on the knife as he talks, making it clear I’m not afraid to cause him more pain.

“If you weren’t sent with orders to attack, why did you? Showing off for the boss? Hate to break it to you, but it doesn’t matter what you do, she’ll never see you as a person of value or worth. Nessa believes everyone is beneath her. It’d do you good to remember that as you’re dying in vain, choking on your own blood after I slit your throat.” Something he said dawns on me, making my spine go rigid. “Wait,us? They sent more than just you?”

He smiles wickedly at me. “That’s right, honey. If you think I’m bad” —I really don’t, but whatever— “just wait till you see what a rogue wolf is like after being locked in a shipping container for a month.”

Rogue wolf in a shipping container? Is that what they’re doing? Collecting rogue wolves and holding them in containers?

I don’t get to ask these questions because in the distance, in the direction Winslow ran, I hear the sound of her panicked scream.

With speed most living beings would struggle to track with their eyes, I yank the knives from his palms, before slicing them across his throat. His body falls to the concrete ground, landing with a harshthud.

I take off down the sidewalk, flying around the corner of the building.

Ten feet from where her car is parked, Winslow lies on her back on the pavement, a rabid looking brown wolf over her. Her thin arms are desperately trying to keep the beast’s powerful teeth away from her throat. Before meeting Ransom and his family, my only priority would be killing the wolf, not caring who got between us, but now my priority is Winslow—making sure she isn’t harmed in the process.

Dashing toward them, I launch myself onto the big wolf’s back, straddling him with my thighs. His attention is immediately turned on me, his eyes, wild with uncontrollable rage, lock on me when his head tilts back. With the blades that are still in my hands, I wrap my arms around his thick neck and plunge them into the veins that reside in his throat. I yank the blades from his body and vault off his back, landing back on the concrete road.

Winslow yelps as blood pours out of the wounds down onto her. As the wolf staggers back off of her, growing weaker and weaker from the blood loss, I reach down under Winnie’s armpits and drag her away from him.

He looks at me and in a last-ditch effort he sluggishly jumps at me, but before he can make it more than a step, I throw my knife at him. It lands squarely between his angry eyes, killing him instantly.

With him taken care of, I whirl around to Winslow. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Ranger is going to lose his absolute shit if we return and his mate is wounded. Somehow, he’ll find a way to blame me I’m sure.

Winslow climbs to her feet, on shockingly sturdy feet. She looks down at her hands which are covered in blood. Her head and chest also have blood on them, but she doesn’t seem freaked out. Instead she shakes her hands off, droplets of blood spewing everywhere.

“I just bought this shirt and now it’s ruined,” she whines, tugging at the material of her soaked shirt.

“Winslow,” I snap. “I can smell your blood, where are you hurt?” I repeat, needing an answer immediately.

“What? Oh, I just scraped up my arm when he tackled me to the ground.” She lifts her arm showing me her wounded elbow. It looks like road rash, will probably hurt for a little while, but she can heal from a wound of that caliber. “I’m fine, thank you for getting there in time. I dropped the knife when he landed on top of me.”

Sure enough, I spot the knife five feet away from us, near the tire of another parked car. I quickly pick it up, putting it back in the holster on my thigh. Don’t need any evidence leading back to us.

The wolf’s body begins to make a cracking, popping noise, making us turn to look at him. Before our eyes, the wolf melts away and a frail and scrawny man appears. It looks like he’s gone a while without a decent meal. His pale skin is also covered in dirt, indicating he hasn’t showered in a while.

“Yikes, he looks rough,” Winslow comments. “Where the hell has he been?”

The vampire’s comment about a storage container comes to mind, but I don’t say anything.

“Come on, we need to leave. We need to tell them about what we learned about Nessa and Hugo.”

Winslow grabs a sweatshirt from the trunk and quickly changes into that. It’s clear it belongs to Ranger because it hangs almost to her knees. I got off easy with only a couple sprays of blood across my arms and face, but I’m able to wipe it away with a few napkins I found in her middle console.

In the car, Winslow turns to me. “Have you ever had ice cream? A milkshake?”

I jerk back, confused why we’re talking about dessert right now. I just killed two people, and she still has blood in her hair. “No, I’ve never had ice cream.” Sweet treats like that weren’t exactly on the menu when I was growing up.

“That’s horrible.” She shakes her head sadly.

I shrug off her sympathy. “It’s fine, I don’t get any nutrients from ice cream.”

Winslow’s two-toned eyes roll. “Yeah, Beau, it’sice cream. No one eats it for its nutritional value. We eat it to bury our feelings.” She drives down the street, making a turn I know for a fact doesn’t leave back to the house. “Remember how we were talking about having better outlets than punching shit and drugs? Well we’re going the basic route and using ice cream as a crutch.”

This girl is… hell I have no idea how to describe her.

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