Page 57 of Ruthless Scoundrel
I kick out my feet and push against the rocks, but the man uses my momentum to turn us back toward the village. There are three other figures looming on the pathway down, each panting heavily like they ran to catch up to me. The rain is stinging my eyes, making it hard to see, but I know none of them are Jasper.
“Cuanto crees que vale?” One of them laughs, and I recognize his voice. Red Beard, the man who helped row us in to town.
They can’t mean to do anything good with me. At best, they’ll bring me back to my mother for a reward. At worst…I don’t let my mind consider it. I focus on what I can doto avoid that fate.
My arms are pinned against my body, but I still have a hold on the pistol. I twist my wrist until the barrel of the gun is against my waist, pointing back at my captor. The safety lock is disengaged. I put my finger on the trigger and—
BANG!
The arms fall away from me, and I hit the ground. My ears are ringing, but I can hear the men screaming as they rush toward me. I hold up the pistol and take aim at the closest one. Red Beard stops, holding his hands up in surrender.
A third man dashes toward me on the right and I turn to aim at him, but I’m too slow. He knocks the weapon away with a heavy kick and my other hand slips on the stone. I hit the rocks face-first, and pain slices through my cheek.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and jerks me upright. I scream and claw at his hand, but he’s wearing gloves, too. An open palm splashes against my cheek with a wet slap once, twice, and it has my eyes rolling in my head. He’s shouting, but I’m too disoriented to make out any words.
I grab the other end of the manacle, fisting it hard, and then punch his groin. The man doubles over with a grunt and his hand on my hair goes slack. I fall forward, unable to catch myself. Something hits my already aching shoulder and I yelp as I fall to the side.
Rain splashes down onto my eyes, so I lash out blindly with my feet.
But then there’s a cry of terror and a vicious snarl. I crawl backward and wipe my eyes, hunting for the pistol on the ground. A meatychomp, then a hardsnap,sounds behind me as I scramble toward the weapon. The fight isn’t over. The other man screams a war cry and there’s a heavy smack-ting,then a dog-like yipe.
The sharp stone cuts my hands as I crawl, leaving trails of red running down the side of the mountain that mingle with the blood of the man I shot. I grab the pistol and roll over my bad shoulder, uncaring of the pain. I hold up the weapon and take aim at a dark shadow on four legs. It’s a massive black wolf with glowing opal eyes.
Jasper.
He lunges at the last man standing. The enemy puts a shovel up to block and Jasper’s maw snaps down on the handle. He twists his huge canine head and tosses the man to the ground, then steps on his chest.
Jasper stares at me through the pounding rain as he applies more and more pressure to the man’s chest. He wheezes out desperate pleas in Wolish, clawing at Jasper’s thick paw, but Jasper pays him no heed. His eyes are swallowing me up, daring me to shoot, challenging me to even try it.
Jasper leans forward and the man’s ribs snap. He steps over him, making his insides squelch out of his body. Blood streams from his open mouth, but he’s not dead yet. I’m sure he wants to be.
The heavy pistol makes my arm tremble, but I keep my aim at the wolf’s heart. He stalks closer, bringing the scent of iron with him. I can taste the blood on my tongue.
Jasper stops in front of me, twin curls of hot steam coming from his dark snout. I want to tell him to let me go, to end this before I end him, but his name is the only thing that comes out.
In a mass of violently chaotic black lines, the wolf shifts until he’s once again the shape of a man. Those opal eyes never leave mine and I choke on the rain. My pistol hand trembles harder and I’m not sure I could even hit him with how wildly the barrel is swinging. He stops a foot away, then glances up to the mountain behind me.
“We need to get away from here,” he says, then holds out his hand without looking down at me.
I look over my shoulder to see what’s captivated his attention and am struck dumb. I don’t understand what I’m seeing. The ground is alive. It’s swallowing up the man I shot, and his blood is glowing against the rocks.
A deep groaning rumble comes from within the archway and Jasper growls, “Now, Rei.”
The manacles clink as I lift my other arm and take his hand. He jerks me up and places himself between me and the mountain.
“Walk slowly. Do not look at their faces,” he says, taking a step back and pushing me with him. I don’t know if he means the faces of my attackers, or the faces of whatever is eating them. I close my eyes and tighten my grip on his hand and the pistol.
“Keep going, don’t stop.”
We take slow step after step. My cold feet barely feel the sting of the sharp rocks.
Then suddenly he turns and picks me up, cradling me in his arms. His body is warm, and I shiver in his grasp. The rain roars all around us and I can’t stop myself from tucking into his chest.
“That was so stupid, Reina,” he whispers against the crook of my neck and his hot breath makes me shudder.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back, though I don’t know why. I’m not sorry. I’m angry. Aren’t I? Shouldn’t I be?
Why don’t I feel anything?
