Page 48 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

It would take a long time for me to feel even a fledgling of trust for him, but I knew he was right. Unless I wanted to wait for Duke’s retribution, which would land on me even if I hadn’t dealt the killing blow. I had to get away, and before Slit’s body was found.

One thing was for certain, I wasn’t going to be left in that room where he wanted to hide me. Once the Wolves came looking for their missing man and found Slit’s body, they’d leave no stone unturned to find Niran or me.

And there’s that lack of trust between us. If Niran got away, would he really come back? Or did he prefer to run, unencumbered by the woman he’d just saved? All he could offer me were assurances that I couldn’t believe.

It’s not the first time I’ve tried to escape the Crazy Wolves, but I’d never been successful, not on my own. Could having someone with me be the charm I’d needed?

I knew the clubhouse far better than he and of the handy fire escape that wasn’t far away. For a moment, once we were descending, my heart beat faster as I thought we might have a chance to get clean away.

But how? There was open land all around, and it would be an impossibility to cross it. We were trapped in the open just as badly as we’d been trapped inside.

When Slinger had rounded the building, I knew we were both dead. Or, more likely, that Niran would soon be, and that an even worse fate would happen to me. I’d be forced to stay here only to breed. If Slit had gotten his way, that might have happened today.

So when Niran told me to run, I knew I had to escape or die trying. They were the only two options I allowed myself to think about.

Since I lost my baby, my thoughts have not been about taking care of me. I’ve not once thought of getting my body back into shape. I used to run but haven’t for years.

But ignoring my muscles that immediately protest, and my lungs which don’t seem to want to work, I propel myself forward like a bullet from a gun with a speed I didn’t know I possessed. As it was, I’d gotten further than I expected.

My lungs burned, my bare feet hurt, but I pumped my arms and legs and literally ran for my life.

But this was no athlete’s track. This was rough, unkempt biker land, full of rabbit holes, stones and rough ground. A gunshot reached my ears at the precise second my ankle twisted and gave way, but my momentum carried me on. I crashed to the ground wondering why I was still alive, and why death hadn’t come immediately.

I must be fatally hurt.

I lie still as the past hour passes through my mind. Slit’s dead, Niran got me out of Duke’s clutches. I hadn’t lied when I said I’d rather die. And now, it seems, I’ve got my wish.

My ankle is throbbing. My hands smart from where I put them out to prevent my face crashing into the ground. I’m winded, it’s hard to breathe. My head hurts from the jolt it just received. The strange thing is, I can’t tell where that bullet hit me.

A mortal injury. It has to be. Slinger’s a marksman. He wouldn’t have missed me.

I lie in a strange state of mind as I wait for death, smelling the damp grass under my face, feeling the warmth of the sun on my cheek and the throbbing of my various aches, and tasting the blood from where I’d bitten my cheek.

My ears still work. In the distance, I can hear men shouting at Niran. I continue to breathe while the shouts telling me they’ve found Slit reach me.

Niran had tried to help me. Had he been helping me all along? Lying to get brought here with me? Maybe. If so, he doesn’t deserve the kind of death I know he’ll now receive. It won’t be merciful.

Run, Niran, take your chances. Be shot like me. After all, I can confirm, it doesn’t really hurt.

I’m vaguely conscious of the voices moving away.

Good. No one’s coming to check on me,meaning I can just lie here, waiting peacefully for the grim reaper to take me.

So I lie still, my face mushed into the damp grass. With no shouting to distract me, I try to concentrate on the birdsong, the last thing I’ll hear in my life.

Closing my eyes, I wait for the end to take me.

The ground starts to tremor under my cheek—not much but enough to let me guess someone’s coming to me. Someone eager. They’re panting.

Someone who’s planting their wet nose into my face.

Wet nose?And a tongue licking me? As a rapid breathing reaches my ears and slobber drips on my cheek, I begin to laugh, silently.

Reaching out my arm, I touch Fang’s fur. “You’re a good boy,” I tell him, then raise my head. “K-9?” I ruffle his ear and chuckle again. “You been sent to finish me off?”

The thought is ridiculous.

I’d been on the compound five years. Not allowed off, but as long as I stayed on the grounds, I had enough freedom to make friends with the only living beings who didn’t torture me, and who were kept prisoner much like myself. Gaining their trust had been a challenge, sneaking them food, gradually taking the chance to get close.

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