Page 128 of Hawke

I’ve never heard of such a thing.

I was losing hope, fast. I was out of options. I had no one to turn to. I didn’t have an alpha. I didn’t have my family with me. My wolf only wanted to rip the entire cabin apart, but not when there were innocent lives at stake.

I’d never prayed, not even before I was rejected. I knew to pay my respect to the gods. I knew to pay my dues, to make sacrifices, to show respect, but I never prayed wanting anything for myself. I took what I was given and was thankful for it.

But now?

I needed help.

I didn’t know what the fuck to do.

And when I closed my damn eyes, I wasn’t greeted with blackness. It was a scene that caught my breath because it looked all too familiar.

It was a cabin, much more basic than the one we were staying in currently.

The cabin was built with minimal resources. The beds were fashioned from sturdy tables covered with dry straw for cushioning and draped with tan cloth. The bowls were handcrafted from clay, carved wood, and old, dented metal. The walls were decorated with half-made ropes of twine and straw, hanging like cobwebs. The fire crackled and was placed strategically in the center of the hut, with a hole in the rooftop to let the smoke escape.

Where was I?

As I finished scanning my surroundings, the twisted scent of copper rose to my nostrils, and I stepped further inside. And when I did so, a body lay on the floor.

A blonde-haired woman whose hair covered her face laid on the dirt floor. She lay there motionless, her once-blue clothes now tattered and stained with blood. The sight of her torn body was enough to make anyone’s stomach turn. Her skin was peeled away in patches, revealing the muscles and bones underneath. The strands of her hair were matted with blood and dirt. The stench of death hung heavily in the air.

Blonde fur was spread around the room, in the pools of her blood and on the ripped clothes and bed. She was curled in the fetal position, or what was left of her, her hand reaching toward the door.

My heart ached for this woman.

Who was she to me?

I could feel the hairs on my arms standing on end, my body aching to be close to her.

I fell to the ground, my knees taking the brunt of the fall, but it was nothing compared to the breaking of my heart. I crawled to the body, wondering how I was related to this woman. This wasn’t Delilah, it couldn’t be. This wasn’t my home, this wasn’t the time frame I belonged in.

The agony I experienced made my heart race and my body quake. The pain was like a searing heat that reached into my soul, penetrating the depths of my innermost being. There was something missing, something vital that was keeping me from connecting me to this woman on a deeper level.

I swayed above her, my hands already covered in her blood from touching her. I traced my finger over her face to move her hair. As I did so, a faded spark ignited over the skin. I looked at the woman’s face and felt a deep chill that seemed to still the air around me.

Delilah.

The silence was broken by a sharp gasp as all the air rushed out of my lungs.

No, no, no.

I pushed the hair away from her shoulder, finding a mark on her skin.

My mark.

I felt my shoulder, rubbing to feel her teeth in my skin, but there was none.

There was no completed bond.

The scene faded, my eyes flew open like the vision never happened. I was back in the same cabin with Delilah alive and right in front of me.

The fucking hell was that?

Delilah stared at me with pleading eyes to save the woman that had rescued her a couple years ago—a woman I didn’t even know. Delilah wanted to be the sacrificial lamb to save another?

She wanted me to let her go?

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