Page 85 of Savage Games

The stream is cold, the water clear enough to see the bottom.We move upstream against the current, our paws finding secure footing on the uneven riverbed.The rushing water washes away our scent, erasing our trail as effectively as if we'd vanished.All but the smell of blood and wolfsbane that clings to Wyatt.

After several hundred yards, he leads us out of the water onto a rocky outcrop where our paws won't leave deep prints.Then he executes an elaborate series of backtracking movements, creating false trails that lead nowhere, doubling back on our own scent, and circling trees in ways that would confuse even the most experienced tracker.

It's impressive, watching him work.Each movement is deliberate.Strategic.He's not just running as I would have, he's orchestrating a complex evasion, using every trick he's learned during his years as an outcast.My respect for him deepens with each clever maneuver, even if I hate that he’s had to learn how to do this.

But I can also see the toll it's taking.His movements, while still precise, are growing heavier.His breathing is too rapid, too shallow.The poison is draining him, and all this exertion is speeding up its effects.

Despite his skills, I can see how the wolfsbane is affecting him.His movements, while still precise, lack their usual fluidity.His breathing comes faster, more labored, and there's a subtle drag to his hind leg that wasn't there before.The wound on his back has begun to seep, dark droplets staining his midnight fur.

My wolf whines with concern, wanting to stop, to tend to her mate.But Wyatt's golden eyes remain focused, determined.Even poisoned and hunted, there's an unwavering strength to him that makes my heart swell with pride and something deeper: a fierce, protective love that grows stronger with each moment we spend together.

I’m so proud that he’s mine.

As if reading my thoughts, Wyatt pauses, turning to meet my gaze.His wolf's eyes are bright with fever, but the intelligence in them is undimmed.He nudges me forward, urging me to take the lead.

I hesitate, reluctant to leave him behind.

The second horn sounds, and I stop dead in my tracks, panic gripping me.

Its deep bellow echoes through the forest, bouncing off trees and rocks until it seems to come from everywhere at once.Birds explode from the canopy, their wings beating frantically as they flee from the disturbance.Small animals freeze, then scurry for cover.

The alphas have been released.Brad is on his way.

The hunt has truly begun.

32

Wyatt

Take the lead.

I nudge her forward with my head, trying to hide the agony radiating from the knife wound in my back.The poison is spreading, making my limbs heavy and my head foggy.But Naomi can't know.If Naomi realises how bad it is, she'll forget all about the competition and force me to abandon the challenge.

I can't let that happen.

She pushes ahead, setting a pace I can just about maintain, with the wolfsbane suppressing my body’s attempts to drive it from my system.Every step seems to reopen the wound, sending fresh waves of agony through me, but I force my legs to keep moving.The medicine Jax gave me is keeping me conscious.For now, at least.

The forest around us is alive with sounds, competitors crashing through underbrush in the distance, birds startled into flight, with the occasional triumphant howl as someone gets caught.Behind us, there's an eerie silence that makes my hackles rise.Someone's moving through the forest with practiced stealth.

Someone who doesn't want to be heard.Someone who’s made a beeline in our direction the moment the horn sounded.

Brad.

I'd know that scent anywhere now.The memory of his knife sliding between my shoulder blades is still fresh.The sensation of silver penetrating my flesh burned into my mind.But with the memory comes a surge of rage that cuts through my pain, focusing my thoughts with crystal clarity.

He tried to kill me.He wants my mate.

He'll get neither.

Naomi slows enough, allowing me to draw alongside her.I can feel her anxiety through our bond, taste her fear in the air, not for herself, but for me.She doesn't know how right she is to worry, but she can feel it.Her wolf senses something else is wrong, but I'll be damned if I'm the reason she loses.

Her beautiful coat gleams in the filtered sunlight as she moves with effortless grace through the forest.My wolf admires her strength, her speed, the way she seems to float over the uneven terrain.She knows something is wrong.Her wolf is too perceptive not to sense it, but she doesn't know how right she is to worry.

I push fresh determination through our connection, smothering the pain and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me.I can't let her see how much this is costing me.

We increase our pace, racing through the trees with renewed urgency.The exertion sends fire through my veins as the silver and wolfsbane spreads faster with every heartbeat.My vision tunnels, narrowing to just the path ahead.

The forest becomes a blur of green and brown, my focus narrowing to the path ahead and Naomi's graceful form.Every muscle in my body screams for rest, for surrender, but I refuse to yield.The thought of giving up flashes through my mind, unbidden, but I banish it immediately.

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