Page 79 of Shifting Fate
Arias
I couldn’t find Dallon. Where was Dallon?
I whipped my head from left to right and back again, scouring the woods for any sign of my mate. I turned my back for five minutes, and he disappeared right out from under my nose. My stomach twisted. What if—
No. I wouldn’t think like that. He was fine. He had to be, because I refused to lose him. Not now. Not after all of this. We would defeat these bastards, even if it was by the skin of our teeth. We had too many people depending on us.
Light flashed to my right, a solar flare of white-hot energy. Someone screamed in agony, but the sound petered out in seconds. Harper came jogging up, sweat dotting his furrowed brow. He took a cursory glance around, then focused on me.
“Where’s Dallon?” I demanded, praying that the witch would know something.
He frowned. “I’m not sure. We ran into each other, but I haven’t seen him since.”
My throat knotted. “Did you…” I didn’t finish that sentence. The thought of my mate dead in these hallowed woods terrified me. I quickly shook my head. No. I set my jaw.
Harper squeezed my shoulder. “He’s a fighter.”
A terrible howl sent a shiver running down my spine, but before I could say another word, Harper was running towards the source of the sound. Damn it! There really was no rest for the wicked, was there? I gripped my gun in both hands and moved quickly from tree to tree, using their strength as my shield.
Focus.
A yelp to my right had me spinning around. A shaggy Dreadwolf bowled over a much smaller gray wolf, crushing his hind leg between its powerful jaws. I got only a glimpse of the man’s dark hair as his body involuntarily shifted back on an agonized scream.
Colby.
Before I could think to aim my gun at the beast, my powers surged to the surface. I reached out on instinct and snared the Dreadwolf’s mind with an angry fist. It stumbled sideways on a yowl, swatting at its muzzle with an oversized paw.
I lunged forwards to put myself between me and the wounded man. When the Dreadhunter opened its gaping maw on a roar of outrage, I shoved the muzzle of my gun between its jaws. I didn’t hesitate to let loose. I unloaded six silver bullets, one right after the other. They popped out the back of its skull, which exploded in a splatter. Its heavy body hit the forest floor with a thud, paws still twitching.
Breathing hard, I knelt down next to Colby. His face was pale and sweaty, pain scribbled across every last inch of it. He whimpered brokenly and closed his eyes. I pressed my hands to his wound to try and staunch the flow of blood. His leg was shattered, but luckily, the flesh was mostly intact. He wouldn’t bleed out, at least.
“Look at me. You’re going to be okay,” I promised, taking a quick glance around the woods. I needed to get him back to Foxgrove before his leg began to heal on its own. Thankfully, Van could work miracles.
Colby gripped at my arm helplessly, his eyes glassy. “Y-You… You saved my life,” he uttered. “I…”
“You’re pack,” I told him. “We have to look after each other, especially now. I’m going to pick you up. I’ll try not to jostle your leg too much, but no promises. We need to get out of here.”
He nodded. I swiftly scooped him up off the ground. He was shivering, but it was likely more from the pain than from the cold. Lifting my head to scent the air, I headed back towards the cabins, praying the entire way there that Dallon would be waiting for me.
Van took one look at us and gasped. “What happened?”
“Dreadwolf. Can you fix his leg?”
“O-Of course. Oh my god.” He moved closer to inspect the wound, grimacing at the sight. I’d never once seen the young medic freak out over a broken bone before, but Van looked almost nauseas. I opened my mouth to ask if he was feeling okay when I heard someone cry out.
My blood ran cold. “Take him,” I hissed, practically thrusting Colby into the smaller man’s arms. I rushed through the woods, my heart in my throat.
Tristram was on his knees, gripping his head in both hands. A vision? Now? The Dreadhunter who’d stabbed him laughed in amusement before slowly twisting the knife. Tristram moaned and shook, unable to defend himself.
“What’s wrong, mutt? Can’t handle a little pain?” the man taunted.
I saw red.
I lifted my gun and pulled the trigger. The bullet caught the man in the shoulder. He shouted and jerked back, an ugly sneer marring what would’ve been otherwise-handsome features. I was already on my way over. I needed to protect my Alpha.
I aimed again, but the Dread was fast. The bullet splintered bark off a tree at the same time the man flung two throwing knives at me. One narrowly missed my arm, but the other sunk into my wrist. Fire licked down my fingers as tendons and bones were severed. I yelled and dropped the gun, which cracked off into the distance.
With a snarl, I threw myself in front of Tristram. He was as helpless as a kitten when he was in one of his visions. I didn’t stop to think about what that would mean for me. I didn’t consider the deadly sword the Dreadhunter had just summoned out of thin air. I didn’t even see him raise his arm.
