Page 42 of A Warrior's Fate

“Help us get this open!”

A mass of people rushed forward, Adrien and Kai included. Isla had taken a step, but the panic kept her rooted. She couldn’t will herself any further.

Her fists clenched at her sides as aggravation with herself melded with the apprehension. All she was able to do was stand, bouncing on the balls of her feet, searching desperately for anything she could do to help, watching as her closest friend and her mate encroached on the Wilds’ barrier.

The hunter pushed, and the mass of the brave pulled, metal screaming and rattling. All of it created a brutal symphony. The screech of iron, the gasps and wails of spectators, the whimpers and shouting and groans. The bak made no contribution to the chorus, which meant, following all she’d learned from her time in its home, it was nearby. Stalking…waiting.

There was a loud snap like a break somewhere, and the Gate creaked, an opening forming. But not by much, and it quickly ricocheted closed.

“Again!”

The orchestra came to a crescendo, peaked by the howl and thundering steps of the bak. The hunter clambered to the gap when it reappeared, tumbling through, and dragging what Isla now saw as the limp body of the Trainee with his teeth by the collar of his armor behind him.

Any light in her soul had dimmed as his body fell from the hunter’s maw, motionless.

Dead. He was dead.

“Watch out!”

There wasn’t any time for her to process it—the Gate slamming closed and the sound of tearing cloth, scraping flesh, and a scream made it impossible.

The man who’d been hit, from the looks of it, didn’t get cut too deep, remaining upright though hunched over. Lights and torches illuminated the bak, in all its horrendous glory, pressed against the Gate’s surface. Its protracted claws hooked through the metal labyrinth, its spittle flying as its teeth gnashed. It roared and roared. The Gate shook under its weight, threatening to give way, to let it through. The beast could’ve broken out if it wanted to, Isla knew, but it didn’t.

The intention wasn’t to fight them, to kill whatever it could until it was eventually slain itself. It was to warn them.

The Wilds was their territory. A fact known, but not one they’d ever been evolved enough to embrace. Not like this. Not to guard.

Her fingers ran over the fabric of her jacket where she knew the black ink of her lumerosi snaked in intricate swirls and symbols over the skin of her shoulder, over the top of her arm, tracing as the bak did when she’d been shifted, as it toyed and taunted.

Nothing made sense.

The beast trained its red feral stare over the crowd…and Isla went rigid when it looked at her, only her, she swore, dead in the eye.

Her blood ran cold as it bent. Acknowledging her, knowing her. A searing, splintering pain rippled through her body, and she grimaced, hand going to her head that felt like it was splitting. Her wolf. Her defense. Her greatest power. Pleading, desperate. Trapped.

“Murderer.”

Isla’s breath caught, and her eyes darted around for the source of the projection. The voice was unfamiliar, raspy, so broken that she almost couldn’t decode it, and no one else seemed to have heard.

Murderer?

An unease rumbled in her stomach, and she looked back at the bak, no longer staring at her. It roared at the crowd once more before disappearing back into the forest.

Everyone remained still, terrified to move, to breathe until the false security of the latch was put back in place.

“Is he dead?” someone wailed as others rushed to give the hunter, now back to his human form, some aid and assistance.

“No,” he answered as a cloth was placed over his shoulders. “I had to knock him out just to get him out here. He completely lost it.”

Isla felt like she was getting whiplash, unable to keep up with the rollercoaster of the night, still feeling faint and now dealing with a pounding headache.

There was the sudden sound of a smack, an inhale, and then some sputtering coughs. “He’s waking up!”

If she wasn’t so exhausted, Isla may have jumped for joy as the Trainee roused, his eyes cracking open as he moved and groaned.

His voice was like sandpaper as he asked whoever the woman was nearby, “Where am I?”

Isla didn’t know who she was exactly but could see the peeking of a warrior lumerosi on her back. “Back to civilization, Lukas,” she said endearingly like she knew him.

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