Page 78 of Little Red Riding Hood
His fist clenched around the arrow until his knuckles went white. The memory of Red’s conviction burned in his mind:“Children are dying! The crops won’t grow, the animals are sick—”
And here was Wim—no better, really—desperate to believe his own pretty lies about magical cures.
A wave of nausea rolled through him, replaced by pure, molten rage. His feral sickness began to rear its head, and it took all of Wim’s strength to push it back down, channelling his anger into the arrow. He struck it against the rock once more, with every inch of his might. The clang echoed through the trees, but the gold remained pristine, untarnished. Like the Queen herself—beautiful and untouchable while everything around her rotted.
His chest heaved as he stared at the arrow. Such a small thing, to cause so much pain. To make Red’s eyes light up with purpose, to give him hope.
Wim’s stomach lurched. He doubled over, bile rising in his throat.“What is this, then, Wim? Enlighten me?”
What was it? Everything. Nothing. A dream he couldn’t keep.
His wolf whined, remembering how perfectly Red had fit in his arms, how right it had felt to finally have him. But the memory of Red’s tears afterward, of his broken voice asking why Wim wouldn’t ask him to stay with him…
The arrow slipped from his grip, landing in the dirt. Wim stared at it, at its perfect golden surface still gleaming in the moonlight. Hecould leave it here. Let the forest swallow it. Take Red far away from the Queen’s machinations, from Old Oma, from everything.
But Red would never forgive him.
His Little Red, with his fierce heart and unwavering loyalty. Who’d rather freeze than admit weakness. Who’d kill to protect strangers. Who’d given himself to Wim so completely, trusting him with everything…
Mine-claim-mark-mate.
The beast howled inside him, fighting against the inevitable truth: no matter how great the pull towards each other, he and Red were doomed.
The sun crept higher in the sky, every inch of its movement taking them towards their inevitable ending.
Because… for how long could they possibly continue to journey together? With Red so smart, it was only a matter of time before he realised that they were both heading to Old Oma’s. And when he did, Wim would see the same gut-wrenching look of betrayal on Red’s face as he saw last night.
Wim picked up the arrow. Its weight settled in his palm like a death sentence.
He struck it against the boulder again, and again, and again.
Seventeen
“Enjoying a nice lie-in this morning, are we?”
Red shot upright, his heart lurching into his throat. The Queen’s Shadow’s face filled his vision—those impossibly dark eyes boring into him, framed by straight black hair that hung like a funeral shroud. A cruel smile played across the spirit’s lips, sharp as a blade’s edge.
Fuck.
Instinctively, he reached out to where Wim should have been, just to his side, but his hands closed around thin air.
Where was Wim?
Red’s eyes darted around their camp, searching desperately for any sign of the wolf. The bedroll beside him was cold and empty. His gaze landed on their gear, relief flooding through him at the sight of Wim’s worn leather pack propped against a tree—if that was still here, then he hadn’t abandoned him after their argument.
“Looking for your pet wolf?” The Shadow’s smile widened, revealing teeth too white, too perfect to be human. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t gone far. But there’s somethingelseyou’ve lost that you should be worried about.”
Red stared at the spirit. What new game was this twisted creature playing? The Shadow’s words scratched at the edges of his mind like thorns seeking purchase.
The golden arrow.
Ice crystallised in his veins as his hand flew to his quiver. His fingers trembled as they brushed past ordinary arrows, searching, desperate. Steel tips, wooden shafts, falcon feather fletching—but no trace of gilt. No magic golden arrow.
“Where is it?” Red’s voice quavered, his fingers clenching around the quiver. “This isn’t funny!”
The Shadow’s form rippled like ink in water, that terrible smile never wavering. “Don’t ask me! You’ll have to ask the wolf. He’s the one who ran off with it.”
“What?Why the fuck would he do that?” Red cried. “He doesn’t even…” The words died in his throat. He wouldn’t give this creature the satisfaction of seeing him unravel, of watching him piece together whatever cruel plot was unfolding.
