Page 65 of Savage Games

"You're wrong," I say, my voice dangerously calm."And you're scared.I can smell it on you."

The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes tells me I've hit a nerve.For all his posturing, Brad knows he's losing control of the situation.Maddie's escape, Naomi's resistance, my unexpected appearance in the Games.None of it was part of his plan.

I shake my head."I'm done talking to you."

I turn to leave, sick of looking at his smug face, my wolf ready to snap his neck just to shut him up.That would be hard to explain, though, so getting away from him is the best course of action.

“She’s going to be mine, mutt.That glorious wolf.The extended packs.That body.”

That’s it.

I growl, ready to round on him, but agony explodes through my back.

Choking on my breath, a sharp, searing pain lances through my body, straight down to the bone as I spin, enraged.I stagger forward, trying to lunge for him, but my legs almost give out as fire spreads from the wound, eating through my veins like acid.

As Brad watches on, stepping back out of reach, I stretch one hand behind me instinctively.My fingers brush the hilt of a knife buried deep between my shoulder blades, right where I felt that strange burning sensation earlier.The smell of sizzling skin fills my nostrils as the weapon's coating reacts with my blood.I keep my hand wrapped around it despite the searing pain, refusing to show weakness.

A silver knife.

Pulling it out with a roar, I raise it in front of me, and one sniff confirms what I thought.It’s a knife dipped in wolfsbane.

The blade gleams wickedly in the morning light, its edge coated with a greenish substance that bubbles where it meets my blood.My vision waivers as the poison enters my system, but I fight to stay upright, to keep my eyes fixed on Brad's face.

He didn't stab me himself, he wouldn't risk getting his hands dirty.But the satisfaction in his eyes tells me this was his plan all along.The confrontation on the path was just to keep me distracted while someone else approached from behind.

Brad steps back, wide-eyed, watching and waiting to see the poison take effect.

“I’m not letting you steal this from me,” he says, voice eerily calm, his expression stone cold.

"You won't be taking what's mine," he says, voice eerily calm as he adjusts his cuffs."Neither the pack nor the girl.A shame, really.You might have made a decent enforcer if you knew your place."

When I drop to my knees, sinking into the soft earth, a victorious smile tugs the corner of his thin lips.

Then he walks away.Just walks away, like he didn’t just stab me.

My vision blurs as I watch him casually stroll back toward the packhouse.He pulls out his phone and makes a call, speaking too quietly for me to hear over the buzzing in my ears.But the cold efficiency of his movements tells me everything I need to know.This was planned, calculated.And now, he's moving on to the next phase while I bleed out in the dirt.

He expects me to die right here, bleeding out in the dirt, and he wants to be nowhere near me when it happens.The next round of the competition is about to start on the other side of the territory.After last night, nobody will come out here looking for me.

When I don’t turn up, they might think I’ve run away or been kicked out.

I reach for the mate bond, trying to send a warning to Naomi.But the connection feels muted, like trying to shout underwater.The wolfsbane is interfering with more than just my healing, it's dampening my bond with my mate.

I drop forward onto my elbows, gasping as the poison burns through me, my vision tilting.The world is slipping sideways, my breath coming in ragged bursts, the metallic taste of blood thick on my tongue.

My wolf howls, wanting to heal me, but the wolfsbane hampers my supernatural powers.It’s choking him, suffocating my instincts, and dulling my senses.

No.I’m not going out like this.I’m not letting him get his filthy paws on my mate.

I claw at the ground, digging my fingers into the cold, damp soil, forcing my body to hold on.

"Naomi," I rasp, her name a prayer on my lips.The thought of her in Brad's clutches, manipulated and controlled, fuels a rage that burns even hotter than the poison.

The knife lies beside me, its silver blade now slick with my blood.I wrap my fingers around it, evidence that might save us both if I can just stay alive long enough to show it to Dean.

But I’m losing the fight.Losing control.

I attempt to push to my feet, but my limbs won’t listen.My muscles lock up, and I fall into the dirt once more, my face pressing into broken leaves and twigs.The earthy scent of the forest mingles with blood, lots of blood, filling my nose.

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