Page 54 of Held

At first, Briar thought he was staring at her chest again. Then she looked down and saw the amulet glowing.

Another rope snapped. Wick snarled, groping for the next thick strap pinning him down.

“Huh,” said Renault. He reached up with his crossbow, sticking the point of the bolt through the amulet chain. “What’s this?”

“Nothing,” Briar blurted.

Immediately, she knew she had ruined everything. She’d been too desperate, too fast. She closed her sweaty fingers tightly around her knife, the tip peeking out from underneath the fur.

Renault’s eyes lit up. “Nothing? Well, then. You won’t mind if I do this.”

He jerked the crossbow. The chain snapped, and Briar yelled as the amulet went sailing into the ravine.

“Now,” Renault repeated. “Are you?—?”

A wild roar cut him off. Wick writhed savagely against the bonds, the last rope breaking free against his straining wings.

“Shit,” Renault hissed.

Briar reared back and stabbed him in the chest.

Renault stumbled back. Unfortunately,awayfrom the ravine. Briar only got to see him stare, stunned, at his bleeding chest before she wrenched the knife out and turned.

Too slow.

The second bounty hunter slammed into her, scrabbling for the knife. But before he could grab it or even get stabbed, his eyes went wide, and he was ripped off of her.

Briar didn’t get a chance to enjoy the sight of Wick tearing into him. She was too busy falling, clutching wildly for any handhold she could find.

Her vision blurred: rocks, blood, the dark cliff looming over the village. Then her fur robe caught on something sharp, and Briar jerked to a stop.

She craned her head. Her robe had snagged on a rock, icy wind curling over her naked legs as she hung there, halfway down the ravine.

Briar cursed. She shoved her knife between her teeth and looked around desperately.

Screams echoed down the ravine. Briar ignored them, cold sweat dripping down her spine as she twisted carefully until she was grabbing the rocks.

Her hands stung against the craggy surface. She gritted her teeth around her blade and started climbing down. Rocks pressed into her bare feet, drawing blood. Briar didn’t dare look down or pay attention to the screams overhead. The only thing that existed was the next precarious handhold, the next place to shove her scraped feet.

Finally, she reached the ground. The first bounty hunter lay dead on the rocks, his head cracked open.

The amulet lay several feet away. It was cracked, the glow stuttering before slowly dying.

“Shit,” Briar whispered.

She took a step toward it.

The screams stopped.

Briar tensed, waiting for the sound of a crossbow or Renault yelling. Instead, she heard the sound of something whooshing, and Wick roared in feral fury.

Briar looked up just in time to watch him sail over the side of the ravine. He was wrapped in a new net, his naked flesh smoking as he fell.

He hit the ground with a thud that made Briar wince. Despite every instinct yelling at her to run, she turned and took a step toward her gentleman monster.

“Wick?” she whispered. She cleared her throat. “Wick!”

Wick snarled, spittle flying from his jaws. Then, slowly, he quietened.

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