Chapter 29

Raven

Before I could even say a word, Neil had already vanished into the flames. A plume of black smoke billowed out through the hut’s small windows, swallowing him. For a second, the world felt distant—just the roar of the fire, the crackle of burning wood, and the sound of my own blood rushing through my ears.

“We have to go after him!” my wolf howled, terrified of losing our mate to those flames. “We can’t let him—”

“You!” Eric’s voice cut through the sound of my wolf’s voice. “Get back to the castle! NOW!”

I spun around just in time to see the three guards fighting their way toward me, blades and skin covered in soot and blood. But despite Eric’s command, and despite the frenzy around me, my feet were rooted to the spot.

“Mate,” my wolf whimpered. “We have to go after him…”

I was frozen, my head spinning back and forth between the path to the castle and the blazing inferno that Neil had just stormed into. I knew I should listen to the guards—I wasn’t cut out for this—but I just… couldn’t.

No matter how angry I was, no matter how my hand still stung with that slap, I couldn’t just leave without my mate. Instinct kept me from leaving him.

Suddenly, the sound of a low snarl yanked me back to reality. My blood ran cold as I turned just in time to see a rogue charging toward me, lips curled back to reveal sharp, yellowed fangs. He was fucking enormous, nearly large enough to blot out the sun. Or at least, that was how it felt as I stood there like a deer in headlights.

At that moment, my wolf took over. I shrieked as his hulking form lunged after me, and without thinking, I dropped to the ground, deftly rolling out of the way just as Eric had drilled into me during training.

It worked, somehow, even though I was clumsy and stupid. The rogue’s blood-stained blade sliced through the air where my head had been seconds earlier. If I hadn’t ducked, I might have been bleeding out by now.

I scrambled to my feet, my heart hammering in my chest. We were surrounded by fire and fighting, and there was no way out other than through. I tried to recall everything I had learned, anything to help me.

Wide stance. Watch their movements. Don’t let them get behind you.

The rogue spun around and circled me, a sick grin spreading across his face. “Hmm… You’re not Lycan,” he growled, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air. “You’re not a Lycan at all, are you?”

I bared my fangs instinctively, even though I knew it would do nothing. My fangs could hardly even drop, what with my wolf still weakened. She may have helped me tap into my poorly-developed muscle memory, but that was the extent of it.

“Back off,” I hissed.

The rogue’s laugh was guttural and cruel, and the sound of it sent a shiver down my spine. “Or what? You’ll run home and cry?” he sneered. He took a step closer and sniffed the air again, clearly confused by my scent. “Where is home for you, you pretty little thing?”

Before I could react, he suddenly lunged again, this time faster than I could track him. My body moved before my mind caught up, narrowly dodging his attack, and I drove my foot into the back of his knee—just as Castor had taught me.

The rogue grunted and staggered, caught off guard. But he remained standing.

“Not bad,” he sneered, recovering quickly. He whirled to face me again, tossing his knife into his other hand. “You’ll make an interesting trophy.”

I moved to dodge him again, but he was too fast this time.

Suddenly, the world turned into a blur as the rogue connected with my body and slammed me into a nearby wall. The impact knocked the breath from my lungs, pain exploding through my limbs. I barely registered the flash of silver before I felt it—the sharp, searing agony as a knife drove clean through my raised hand, the blade piercing fully between the bones and flesh.

I screamed, the sound raw and ear-splitting, like a trapped animal. Because that was what I was—trapped. Like a rabbit caught in a snare. If I hadn’t lifted my hand to defend myself, then the knife might have gone through my eye instead, but my relief at that was nothing compared to the pain.

“Hmm…” He sniffed again, not the air this time, but me. He was so close now I could feel his nose brush my neck as he inhaled deeply. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your blood smells like a Werewolf,” the rogue hissed into my ear, his breath hot and foul.

His grip tightened as he twisted the knife, and I thought I might black out from the pain. “You’re so far from home, little flower. How did you get here?”

My vision blurred, the entire world narrowing to that single point of mind numbing agony where the blade was lodged. My blood, thick and warm, began to trickle down my arm, staining the ground at my feet. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think through the haze of pain.

But somehow, I managed to grind out two words: “Fuck… you.”

The rogue chuckled, grabbing a fistful of my hair. “You know, I was going to kill you. But now I think I’d like to take you home with me. Alive.”

And then everything happened at once.

Three blurs of shadow converged on the rogue. I heard the sickening sound of steel slicing through flesh, followed by the spray of hot blood across my face. The rogue’s grip slackened, and then he crumpled to the ground in a heap, Eric’s blade having sliced through his throat.

“Raven!” Castor’s arms were around me before I could crumple beside the dying rogue. “Your hand—”

I could barely respond. The pain was too overwhelming—but one word forced its way out of my throat.

“Neil.” I clutched my bleeding hand to my chest, the world tilting around me. “Is he—?”

Castor’s eyes widened. “Raven, this is no time for that,” he said, gently helping me to my feet.

Ember stood nearby, her mouth slack and face pale. Castor handed me off to her, and I nearly fell into her arms like a sack of potatoes. She didn’t blanch at the sight of my blood running down her leathers, but rather held me tighter.

“Get her out of here,” Castor said, although he didn’t need to.”

I struggled weakly as she began to guide me away. Even now, with blinding pain shooting through every fiber of my being, with a knife still lodged in my hand, all I could think about was my mate.

Then, as if on cue, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. I turned, my vision swimming as the smoke parted.

Neil emerged from the burning building, his skin streaked with soot and blood. In his arms, cradled against his chest, was a tiny bundle.

The baby.

The child’s mother fell to her knees as Neil approached, her sobs cutting through the din. She reached for her child, her arms trembling, and Neil carefully lowered the infant into her grasp.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, waiting. Finally, the baby cried out. It was alive. Safe.

Neil wiped a layer of soot and sweat from his brow, turning. When he saw me, when he saw the knife in my hand and the rogue’s blood splattered across my face, his eyes widened. But then there were more screams, and he, Castor, and Eric took off once more into the fray.

The world dimmed slightly as I stumbled against Ember. All of the fight had gone out of me now that I knew my mate was safe.

I didn’t resist as she pulled me back to the castle.