Page 77 of Jesse
His head hung forward, his curls soaked with sweat or blood, I couldn’t tell which. His chest rose and fell shallowly. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t conscious either.
And the bastard standing in front of him? He was pacing and muttering to himself. In one hand, he held a torn, wrinkled photograph, the edges frayed like it’d been carried for years.
His other hand had partially shifted, fingers twisted into jagged claws, fur already spreading up his arm.
It was a grotesque halfway state, wolf and man blurring together, like he couldn’t even hold one shape without unraveling.
“I finally have him, Adrian…” he muttered. “A life for a life. A brother for a brother. A trade. A message.”
The name hit me like a brick. Adrian. The former lead alpha of the Thronebane pack. I didn’t know much, just rumors.
I might’ve glimpsed him once or twice at the summit a few months back. Twisted, cruel, the kind of alpha who ruled through fear. Jackson had ended him when he tried to make a move on Noah.
Whatever the full story was, I didn’t care. Not right now. All I saw was Beck, tied up, vulnerable and hurt. I simply lost it. No fear, just rage. White-hot, bone-deep rage.
I stood up slowly, stripped off my shirt and boots in seconds, yanking my jeans down enough to shift without tearing them to shreds.
My body burned, bones popping and twisting, fur ripping through my skin like fire. My jaw cracked wide, reshaping into a snout lined with teeth meant to kill.
My claws dug into the earth. The killer froze and sniffed the air, but it was too late. He turned, eyes going wide, and then I was on him.
I launched over the log with a guttural roar, all teeth and claws and fury, and slammed into him before he could fully shift.
We crashed to the ground, and I tore into his side, blood splattering across the pine needles. He howled, his body convulsing, twisting mid-roll as he shifted fully into his wolf.
He was a massive, black-furred brute, bigger than average, his yellow eyes wild with mania. He sprang back up and lunged, and our bodies collided again with a sickening crunch of fur and flesh.
I bit his shoulder; he sank his fangs into my flank. We rolled, snarling, a whirlwind of fur and fury, claws raking, teeth gnashing.
The forest rang with growls and the brutal thuds of our bodies slamming into trees, rocks, the earth itself. I barely felt the pain, just the rage.
I had to win for Beck. But then, through the haze, I heard a low and broken moan. Beck. I turned for just a fraction of a second, eyes scanning, and saw his head lift. His lips moved.
“Jess…”
That was all it took. That one moment of vulnerability and the killer lunged. His jaws sank into my side, right under my ribs, and he ripped. I snarled.
The pain flared red-hot, searing through my nerve endings like lightning. I hit the ground hard, dazed, blood pouring from the wound as my legs kicked instinctively.
The killer stood over me, panting hard, muzzle stained red.
This is it, part of me thought.This is where I die. Where I fail.
“No!” Beck’s voice cut through the clearing like a gunshot.
I twisted my head just in time to see him. He was free.The rope hung in tatters, duct tape dangling from one wrist.
He must’ve wriggled out while we fought, must’ve clawed and bled and fought for every inch of freedom. Without a second thought, Beck launched himself at the wolf.
My wolf wanted to roar in protest.No, baby, stay back!
Too late. Beck tackled the bastard from behind, arms locking around the wolf’s throat. They hit the ground hard, and for a second, the killer was pinned, but not for long.
He snarled and twisted, claws raking Beck’s shoulder, tossing him like a ragdoll into the brush. My heart stopped. Beck hit the ground hard and didn’t move.
Mine.The word tore through my chest like a bolt of lightning. My wolf surged back to the surface. There was no more hesitation and no more restraint.
The killer turned toward Beck again, but I was already moving. I leapt with everything I had, jaws wide, and I sank them into his throat.
