Page 164 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
My finger squeezed the trigger. The first shot punched through his chest, the impact spinning him sideways. Blood misted the air. The second man was raising his weapon when my bullet found him, dropping him in a graceless heap. Two lives ended in the space of a heartbeat, and some distant part of me—the part that wasn’t drowning in Rory’s pain—catalogued exactly what I’d become.
Isla’s gasping filled the sudden silence. I turned to find the third man gone, vanished into the trees.
No time to think about what I’d just done. Callum was moving again.
Compartmentalise. Focus. Survive.
The wolves crashed together again, a writhing mass of fur and fangs. I circled them, Glock raised, searching for a clear shot. Every angle showed Rory too close—one wrong bullet and I’d kill the person I was trying to save.
Callum seemed to understand. The black wolf deliberately positioned himself so Rory’s smaller form blocked my line of fire, tactical intelligence gleaming in those predator’s eyes. When Rory tried to dart left, creating distance, Callum herded him back, using his bulk to maintain the shield.
My finger hovered over the trigger. If Rory wasn’t so close, I could use a silver bullet, take Callum down possibly just from a grazing wound. But their tumbling and tussling made it impossible.
Despite the noises from the fight, I still heard Isla’s breathing, coming in sharp, panicked gasps. In my peripheral vision, I caught her backing towards the trees.
“Stay where you are!” I barked, not taking my eyes off the wolves.
“He’s going to kill him!” she screamed, voice cracking. “Callum’s goingto—”
A strangled sob tore from her throat, forcing me to look at her. She stood frozen, auburn hair wild around her pale face, freckles stark against skin gone white as bone. Tremors spread through her entire body like she was coming apart at the seams.
Then she bolted.
“Isla!” But she was already crashing through the undergrowth, panic-driven and unstoppable.Brilliant.
Rory broke free of Callum, beautiful golden fur streaked with horrible crimson, and lunged for the black wolf’s throat. He twisted away, but the movement opened up his left flank.
Now.
I squeezed the trigger.
The bullet punched through fur and flesh with a wetthunk. Callum’s roar shattered the morning air, pure rage. Blood welled from the groove carved across his ribs—a surface wound only.
Those yellow eyes fixed on me with murderous intent. Muscles bunched beneath his coat as he gathered himself to spring. Ice flooded my veins, and through our connection I felt Rory’s matching panic crash into mine—pure, animal terror that this was how we’d both die.
Rory’s teeth found Callum’s back leg, clamping down with desperate ferocity. The bigger wolf stumbled but didn’t fall, powerful hindquarters still coiled for the leap that would put me on my back with fangs at my throat.
I emptied my clip into his chest.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three shots, centre mass. Callum’s body jerked with each impact, dark fur blooming red. Time crystallised, each second stretching impossibly long, Callum hanging suspended for an impossible moment, yellow eyes wide with shock. Then he crashed to the ground.
Callum’s massive body hit the earth with a wet thud, but he wasn’t finished. His paws scrabbled against the forest floor, claws gouging furrows in the damp soil as he thrashed about like some dying behemoth.Dark blood pooled beneath him, spreading across fallen leaves in an ever-widening stain.
Just fucking die.
The thought sliced through my mind with vicious clarity. I’d already killed two men, so what more was a third, especially this vile man. All I wanted was for this nightmare to end. For Callum to stop moving, stop breathing, stop being a threat to the golden wolf now collapsed ten feet away.
Rory lay on his side, flanks heaving with each heavy breath. Exhaustion radiated from every line of his body.
Blood frothed at Callum’s muzzle, pink foam bubbling with each desperate wheeze. The metallic stench filled the clearing, mixing copper with the loamy scent of disturbed earth. His movements grew sluggish, those massive paws that had been clawing for purchase now twitching weakly. Each laboured breath came weaker than the last until finally, mercifully, the light faded from his yellow gaze.
His eyes fell shut.
I rushed to Rory, knees hitting the ground hard enough to jar my bones. His golden head lifted just enough to rest in my lap, and a soft whine escaped his throat.
“Don’t shift back,” I whispered, hands finding the soft fur behind his ears. “Not yet. Let yourself heal first.”
