Page 117 of Scarred Savages
“No!” I twist and claw, my nails catching skin and drawing blood.
A second man appears, grabbing my thrashing legs. Between them, they carry me down the hall, through the smoke-filled living room where furniture lies overturned, glass shattered.
“Let me go!” I scream, my voice raw, eyes searching desperately for any sign of the guys. “Put me down!”
“The boss wants you,” one of them says.
They drag me toward the front door. The last thing I see before they pull me outside is a flash of white fur through the smoke—Hudson, in wolf form, fighting off two other wolves.
“Hudson!” I scream one last time.
He turns, eyes meeting mine for a split second before one of my captors slams the door shut, cutting off my view.
And then I’m outside, still fighting, still screaming, as they drag me away from the only people who have ever made me feel like I belong.
The one holding my legs falters as I kick, and my legs hit the gravel. It tears at my bare feet as the first man continues to drag me across it, but the pain is nothing compared to the razor-sharp panic slicing through my chest. Ten feet ahead, a black SUV idles. I catch flashes of movement through the lake house windows.
My guys are in there. My guys are dying in there.
“Stop fighting,” the taller of my two captors grunts as my elbow connects with his ribs. “You’re just making this harder on yourself.”
“Go to hell,” I spit, twisting my body like a snake. Axel’s oversized shirt rides up my thighs, but dignity is the least of my concerns right now.
“She’s got claws.” He says as he bends to grab my legs again.
“I’ll show you claws,” I hiss, raking my nails down the side of the face nearest to me.
He yelps, loosening his grip on my arm just enough for me to wrench it free. I use the momentum to slam my bare heel down on the first guy’s instep. He curses, his grip slackens for a fraction of a second.
It’s enough. I twist free, stumbling forward before regaining my balance.
“Grab her!” someone shouts.
I dart between two parked SUVs, my mind racing as fast as my heart. The lake house is maybe fifty yards away, smoke now pouring from multiple windows.
I make a break for it, zigzagging between vehicles. Footsteps pound behind me. A hand grazes my shoulder, but I duck, changing direction. The smoke from the house stings my eyes and clogs my throat, but I push forward.
“Luna!” a voice calls. Female, familiar.
I risk a glance back. A woman in tactical gear stands by the SUV, her face half-hidden by a mask. She’s holding something small and black in her hand, pointing at the house.
“Get down!” she shouts.
I don’t listen. I can’t. All I can think about is getting back inside, finding Hudson, Axel, Ethan, Oli… hell, even Damien. They’re the closest thing to family I’ve had since—
Hands grab me from behind, spinning me around. It’s the man whose face I scratched, blood trailing from four parallel lines down his cheek.
“Got you, bitch,” he snarls.
I drive my knee up, aiming for his groin. He blocks it, but the movement throws him off balance. We both stagger, and for a critical moment, his grip loosens.
I tear away, breaking into a full sprint toward the house.
“Luna, stop!” the woman calls again.
Twenty yards. Fifteen. I can feel the heat from the fire now, and I see flames licking up the sides of the building. The smoke is thicker here, making me cough.
Ten yards. Five.
