Page 8 of Wolf's Redemption

A chain snapped around Grandpa’s neck and pulled tight, cutting off his air.

She stepped back, clutching her injured hand to her chest. Had she broken her knuckle? It sure felt like it.

Wide-eyed, the kid brandished his sword at her, his attention flicking between her and the prisoner. More rapid French. A fewcurses she recognized, but the rest she could only guess at. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Grandpa’s life for hers.

Bek snatched up Grandpa’s sword with her good hand. The thing had a solid weight to it. Good. Worst case, she could swing it at him like a sharp-edged cricket bat. She gripped the handle with both hands, wincing as pain flared across her injured knuckles. She widened her stance, holding the sword out in front of her. The tip wobbled a little, and she fought to still the trembling of her hands and keep it steady.

Grandpa’s eyes bulged, his face turning a motley purple and his hands clawing at the chain. Her manacled fantasy sneered as he wrenched on the chain. A loud crack reverberated off the walls.

When he released the chain, Grandpa crashed to the floor. Dead.

Holy fu—He’d killed— How strong was this guy? Didn’t that sort of shit only happen in Hollywood?

The kid’s gaze darted about wildly, from Bek, to the chained up so-called knight, to dead Grandpa, to the steps.

The knight grinned. In his hand, he held a ring of keys.

Bollocks.

Before either she or the kid could move, he had unlocked the shackles, and they fell from his wrists and his neck with a clatter. He tracked the guard, all predatory vengeance. Death on two legs.

“Don’t kill him. He’s just a kid.” Her words were out before she could stop them.

The knight turned his intense stare on her for a split second, and Bek blanched.

The kid took advantage of the brief reprieve and swung his sword, but he was no match for medieval Thor. He disarmed the kid in seconds, and hit him on the back of the head with the buttof his own sword. The kid slid to the ground, and with him went the candle, plunging them into darkness.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap.

With trembling fingers, Bek reached for her phone. She turned on the torch, lighting up the room. The now free knight, if that’s what he really was, stood over the unmoving guard. His attention turned to her, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of her phone torch.

Bek edged toward the steps, keeping the sword pointing in his direction, her eyes never leaving him. Two down, one to go.

Then her phone battery died.

Fuck.

She made for the stairs with as much speed as she dared. And slammed into something solid, something warm, and landed on her ass. Bek screamed and scrambled back. Her heart pounding, she kept a tight grip on the sword and got to her feet. She raised the weapon, waving it blindly in front of her.

A large hand clasped over her wrist.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

In a heartbeat, he’d disarmed her. Now he had two swords, and she had none. She scuttled back, her heels connecting with…somethingand she fell. She landed on…

Oh God. Is that the dead guy?

She whimpered, scrabbling backward until she hit a wall, two walls. She leaned into the corner, trembling, her eyes straining, but unable to make out anything in the pitch-black.

“It is not safe for you out there alone.”

His voice was close, homing in on her. Bek froze, her ears pricked for any sound.

Nothing.

She swallowed. Was he still or stealthy?

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