Page 25 of Betrayed Auctioned Mate

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

I reach for my pistol, drawing it slowly as I inch closer to the source of the noise. There’s movement in the trees, justbeyond my line of sight. A shadow shifts in the fog. My heart pounds in my chest as I strain to see through the thick curtain of mist and reeds. Whatever it is, it’s close.

I take another step forward, and the smell of blood grows stronger. Something is wrong. My wolf raises her hackles and snarls.

Then I see it—a figure slumped against a tree trunk. The blood is dried on their shirt. The sight sends a rush of horror through me.

Whoever they are, they’re hurt. Badly. And I’m the only one here.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and move closer.

As I approach, my heart skips a beat. Recognition floods through me, cold and sickening. It’s him—the man who escaped from the riverside days ago. His face is pale, his shoulder a mangled mess of blood and bandages, but it’s unmistakable.

He must have been laying low by the lake this whole time. We never thought of checking this close to home. We assumed he wouldn’t be so stupid as to hide in our backyard.

His head lifts blearily. I see his eyes sweep over me, then harden, and something happens between us, something I can’t describe.

Before I can process my next move, something in me shifts. My instincts flare to life, taking over.

My skin prickles with energy, bones snapping and reforming, my hide sprouting as I transform into my wolf form. The change is quick, fluid, driven by adrenaline coursing through me.

But just as I finish shifting, I see him rise to his knees as his form shimmers and morphs as well. He’s a wolf, too. I should have known.

We lock eyes for a split second, and then we’re on each other.

His size and weight are formidable, but he’s injured. I smell the rot of the days-old gunshot wound festering in his shoulder.

I use that to my advantage, barreling into him with everything I have. We collide in a flurry of fur and teeth. He snaps his teeth against my ear as we tumble through the dirt.

I go for his shoulder, biting down hard. He yelps in pain, his body jerking violently beneath me, but I hold my ground, my jaws clamped around the wound. He thrashes, trying to throw me off, but I dig my claws into the earth and press down harder, pinning him beneath me.

I think I’ve won. But then, with a snarl of pain and fury, he shifts back, human once more, and my jaw stretches painfully, forcing me to let go.

His hand shoots out faster than I can react, and a blade flashes in the dim light. The knife shoots out across my face. A pin-straight line of pain incises along my cheekbone.

I yelp, reeling back, my vision blurring as blood drips down the side of my face.

I try to transform back, but my body falters, caught between forms as I stagger back from him. He’s panting, clutching his wounded shoulder, but there’s a gleam of recognition in his eyes now—a twisted, cruel smile that makes my insides churn.

“I remember you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse and taunting. “From the Bloodtooth Pack. You were one of their little pets, weren't you? The one we kept locked away for months.”

The world around me blurs, the sounds of the forest fading.

The cell. The hunger. The terror. It’s him. He was one of them. One of the men who kept me captive, who made sure I never saw the light of day.

Fear claws my insides, overwhelming me. I hear a phantom roaring in my ears like the sound of a motorbike revving on the highway. The screeching of my world as it grinds to a halt.

My wolf instincts take over, and I snap at his leg in desperation, trying to tear him apart before he can hurt me again. But he’s quicker this time. He pivots back on one foot. His boot slams into my ribs with a sickening thud.

The air rushes out of me at once. I collapse to the ground, gasping for breath. Pain radiates through my side, hot like a poker, and there is not one ounce of oxygen in my lungs, but I force myself to scramble up, to fight, to do something. He’s standing over me now, raising his boot for another kick, and I can’t move fast enough. I pant, heaving, trying to remember how to breathe.

Just as his boot swings down toward me, a blur of movement barrels into him from the side.

Ado.

The two of them crash into the ground, Ado’s wolf form snarling as he drives the man into the dirt. He’s relentless, teeth bared, muscles coiled with fury as he tears into the man who hurt me.

I stagger to the ground, lying with my head low and my teeth bared. I watch as Ado pins him down with sheer force, his jaws snapping inches from the man’s face. The man struggles, but he’s no match for Ado’s strength, not with his injury.

---