Claws latched into his haunches. His shoulders. Blood dripped and flowed, staining the snow that slowly turned to mud. Another lion threw himself over his back to drive him down to the ground while the others yanked him around. Rhys shook them off, only to have them attack all over again, slowly closing the ring around him until he couldn’t take a step without bumping into another male. A roar ripped out of his chest when he went to the ground, and they piled over his bulky frame.
Cornered. Fucking cornered. His mouth opened with his heavy, panicked pants, blowing clouds into the night air.
Was that how she’d felt in her last moments? Did she go out knowing there was nowhere to turn, no chance to run, no one there to save her?
“Easy,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Easy.”
Pressure built in his middle and threatened to cave in his skull. He snarled, the noise promising death to anyone that stood between him and the rest of the fucks trying to hurt her.
Rhys bucked against the bodies thrown across his own trying to hold him down. Drowning him, really. They tried to hold him under until he was forced to obey.
He was the son of an alpha. He gave the commands.
“Shit,” the voice growled. “Where’s the tranq gun?”
One final lurch threw off her attackers, and he twisted his feet under his huge body. A white paw sliced through the darkness and connected with one of the hunters too slow to get away. A scream followed, pain rushing down on the fucker, but Rhys wasn’t finished. He wanted more. Needed blood on his tongue, staining his fur, coating his claws. A slow death like the one they’d given her.
“No.”
The soft whisper cut through the fury that gripped him, and stopped him in his tracks faster than the alpha orders or whimpering of the hunters. He knew he looked like one of those pointer dogs with one paw lifted off the ground in anticipation of his next stalking step.
He rolled his eyes to find the source of the voice, half expecting to see a ghost fluttering at the edge of his vision. The reality was worse. Green eyes cut through the darkness from where she stood on her back porch. One hand covered her mouth, the other raised and outstretched in a plea for the violence to stop.
He locked eyes with Hannah. No. Green. Green belonged to Sage.
Mate.
He’d had a mate.
He had a mate.
Two sentences, nearly identical, and both driving him completely fucking insane.
His lion lurched forward again. He had to get to her. Had to save her.
A big male stepped between him and the haunting vision of Sage. Rhys’s lips peeled back in a silent snarl as all the previous rage flooded back through his system.
Asshole. Motherfucker. His mouth watered for the taste of the bastard’s blood. He’d rip him apart, the same as he’d done to the others. They hadn’t stood a chance once he had their scent in his nose.
Life for life. It was only fair.
“Shift back,” the male growled. “Now.”
The words were no longer asking. They were issued as a command that he was expected to obey. Some part of him shuddered under the order. Another resisted with a surprising strength. He balanced on a knife’s edge, the agony he’d denied before ripping through him. His joints ached like he’d lived out a thousand years in the span of a few minutes. His muscles didn’t want to hold him upright. Even his bones complained and felt like crumbling to dust. And the air? The light breeze on his fur was enough pressure to make his eyes water.
The man shouldered a rifle and fixed him in his sights. Rhys fought through the pain and foggy need to obey to bunch his feet under him. A growl rolled out of his chest, promising death to the fucker. He’d probably get a shot off, but they’d go out together.
Rhys pushed off the ground with a roar just as a dart jabbed into his chest.
The sedative hit his system, and dispersed quickly. His target stepped out of the way, and he landed on the ground to take one stumbling step before faltering to his side.
“Fuck me,” Lindley grunted. He held his side, but blood still seeped through his fingers. “I’m slashing his tires if I need stitches.”
Trent. Lindley. Right. If he could twist around, he knew he’d see Dash, too. They were his pride, now. Not the old memories that haunted him from clear across the country.
A dream. It’d just been another dream.
And a fuckton of insanity.
He rolled his eyes past the others to land on the green-eyed ghost. She still stood on her back steps, one hand covering her mouth. He couldn’t see her eyes or smell her properly over the fur and cold mud, but he had a hunch she was in utter shock.
Everyone knew the path he barreled down. To see it firsthand was something else entirely. If he’d had his way, Sage would never have played witness to such fucking stupidity.
She’d traded one batshit lion pride for another.
His lion sank down inside him with a roar that turned to a helpless mewl.
What did she do? What the hell did she do to pull him off the hunt? Who the hell was she?
Lindley’s sister. Kyla’s friend. Sold to Jasper Crowley by her own fucking father. Those were the obvious connections. Shame coursed through him. Nine days. That was how long he held it together since she’d arrived. Nine fucking days was all he managed before boiling over into insanity.
And then she’d stopped him from hurting the others.
She deserved a better hand than she’d been dealt.
“Let’s get him down to the cave.”
Trent’s defeated words were
