Page 67 of Defiant
My chest spirals strangely.
The odd feeling persists and I stop fighting it, deciding that nerves have done a number on my entire system because I’m arguing with myself.
I follow Matthew out of the basement bathroom and carefully up the stairs because heels aren’t my go-to footwear. I sigh, wishing I could bring a change of clothes with me, but nothing says, “I’m planning to escape” like an unnecessary secondary outfit.
I try not to glance down at the ring weighing down my left hand.
I’m wearing it for the charade, but that little circle of metal feels like a noose. I can’t wait to pull it off even more than I want to lose the heels, because this ring is a death sentence. It’s a harsh goodbye to everything I’ve ever wanted. Wearing it feels like I’m seconds from leaving my life and living the one someone else has chosen for me.
Just a few more minutes,I promise myself.
As soon as we reach the front hallway, I’m bombarded by scents in a way that I haven’t been before. I get almost dizzy. “Whoa.”
Matthew takes my arm and steadies me, helping me cross to the front door. “Are you alright, Luna Elena?”
His use of that term, the term of the female shifter mated to a pack’s alpha, nearly makes me retch for real. I swallow back the bile because I can’t ruin Jonah’s plan. “The scents are a bit much,” I respond shakily.
He nods. “I’ll get some air purifiers out for when you return.”
Gah. He’s fucking thoughtful.
I nod gratefully despite the fact that I’m not going to return. And then Matthew opens the door and shows me to a group of six beta men, all brawny, who stand with their arms clasped behind their backs like this is some kind of military exercise. One of the men is Jonah, his blond hair lit a soft blue in the moonlight, his eyes steady. He gives me a tiny, imperceptible nod.
“Gentlemen, can you please escort your luna—”
I clutch my stomach with one hand and reach for Matthew’s arm with the other. “Oh, my god! I think I’m going to be sick!”
25
Black
My neck burnsand red specks mar the bottom edge of my vision. Am I passing out or is it blood flying from my throat and coloring the very air in front of me?
I bring my elongated, clawed hand up to my throat and press my rough palm hard against the wound. The red specks remain, so my vision is what’s affected.
The gash is smaller than I would have thought. And as I press into the white hair coating my throat, I realize it’s not nearly as deep as I’ve been cut before in other fights.
I can survive this.
The knowledge fills me as surely as my own blood fills my palm and paints my fur with gore. It’s followed by a thread of giddiness that pulls tight, making my spine snap to attention.
I can survive this…but only if I’m smart. I can’t afford another mistake. I have to focus.
Everything narrows … my field of vision, my sense of smell, my purpose in life—they all become centered on one thing: killing Stone.
I need to do it fast, and soon. There’s a warmth and a soft pulse at my neck that tells me I have to hurry.
Luckily, his claws didn’t hit my trachea, so I can breathe … for how long is the question. Every heartbeat feels precious right now. A moment of regret slips through my mind that I didn’t give Elena that last kiss. But it’s a brief, solitary flash as my mind also sorts through a million steps I could take.
Stone thinks he has the upper hand right now. If I cater to that, then maybe I can pull out ahead. But I’ll only get one shot at deceiving him, and I’ll have to make it good. He’ll expect me to go for the neck. That’s where shifters always go. But the gut is just as delicate.
And a gut wound that can’t heal can cause a hell of a lot of pain too.
That’s what I should do—it’s what he deserves.
I let my lids down halfway as if my eyes are feeling heavy. I let one of my shoulders droop.
Stone’s eyes gleam with eagerness though he keeps his distance, still studying me.
