Page 62 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

Metal crunches, the front crumpling like paper. The impact jolts me forward and I twist, clutching Landon tighter to my chest, shielding his tiny body with everything I have.

Glass shatters, spraying us. My cheek stings, pain radiating up my arms. Landon wails—sharp, shrill, terrified—his small body pressed to mine in the carrier.

My body aches. My ears are ringing. I can taste blood. I can smell it.

"We need to get out. Now!" Eric's voice cuts through the noise, ragged and urgent. He leans across the wreckage of the car to shove the door. Once. Twice. The third push finally gives.

I half stumble out of the car, legs trembling as I clutch Landon tightly, even if he is strapped to me, stroking him with trembling hands. I spare a glance at the guard in the passenger seat who saved us. There is a huge shard of glass dividing his center.

Bile rises in my gut at his unseeing eyes and...gods, so much blood. Gods, no. Not again. I feel the crippling sensation in my legs, the stickiness of blood running down my arms, and beforeI can give into the despair, Eric snatches my arm and shoves me forward, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"Not now, Seraphina. We need to get out of sight," he breathes. "It's an ambush and we're prey if we stay here."

My eyes travel back to the dead men in the car. "Ruslan...his daughters..."

Eric cups my cheeks, eyes piercing mine. "I know. I know." His face is covered in cuts and there's a shard in his shoulder. He doesn't look like he even notices that he has a severe injury. "We're too far from the pack to receive help immediately. Until Soren arrives, we need to stay out of sight and bide our time. I need you to stay calm and get Landon to stop crying. They'll find us faster if he doesn't."

I nod, body trembling. I might be going into shock.

Eric heaves a breath, letting go of my face as he scans the treeline. He takes one step away from me and he jerks, right before I hear the crack of a gunshot. His eyes widen with confusion. He looks down at the blood blooming on his shirt, his hand reaching for it like he can undo it.

He coughs, a trickle of blood running down his lips and I might have been screaming. His eyes meet mine. "Go."

Another shot, this one lower, and he drops to his knees.

"No, no, no—" I drop down with him, one hand trying to keep Landon secure while the other presses hard to Eric's chest.

"Why isn't it healing? You're supposed to heal!"

"Wolfsbane," he chokes out. "Can't shift."

He falls forward and I cry out, reaching for him. His skin is pale, the shot too close to his heart. If the wolfsbane gets there, he'll die. I need to get the bullet out.

I scamper around me, searching for a shard clean enough, sharp enough, hoping that the few lessons I took on basic first aid for wolves will be enough to save Eric's life. If not...no. I can't let myself think otherwise. Soren would die if something happened to his brother.

My hand closes around a shard, just as leaves rustle behind me. I look back and freeze.

There's six of them, all dressed in varying shades of red and black, their faces shielded with scarves. I crouch in front of Eric, shielding him, while my arm tightens around the carrier, holding Landon closer. I hold the shard in front of me like a weapon, sparing a glance back at Eric to see if he has a better weapon.

"There's a gun in the back of my pants," he says tiredly. "Can't move."

The odds that they'll let me roll Eric over to grab his gun are zero. But I try anyway, only to have a bullet hit the ground an inch away from my boots.

"I wouldn't do that, High Luna," one of them says, his voice thick with an accent. He raises his armed hand high in false surrender, his dark brown eyes practically mocking me. "We come in peace."

"Peace?" I echo, surprised at the rage and lack of fear in my voice. "You killed my men!"

"Sacrifices," he shrugs. His eyes land on Landon, who hasn't stopped wailing, and I hold him tighter on instinct. "Hand him to us and we won't harm you."

My lips peel back from my teeth. "You'll have to kill me first." Who are they? They didn't have the accent most of the rogues on our lands do. Southerners? Perhaps they heard of Ronan's claim on Landon and they plan to use him to blackmail him? Either way, none of my options are great. I can't beat six men with purely rage.

I might have trained with Soren but that doesn't make me an Alpha, and whatever genes I got from Baldwin seem recessive, seeing as I don't have any reflexes that could be to my advantage.

The rogue leader snorts, nodding to the man on his left. "Get the boy."

When he lunges for me with that preternatural swiftness, I don't rely on my sight like Soren taught me, I listen for his feet hitting the snow and then I drive the glass into the bastard's chest with as much strength as I can muster.

He roars, thrashing, but I twist deeper until he gurgles, spraying blood on my face and Landon's. And then, he falls silent, dropping like a stone.

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