Page 60 of The Wulver's Bond
He felt a pulse.
Hope skyrocketed inside Moss. Arran was alive.
Holding his breath, Moss bid the ivy to crawl into Arran’s palm and clasp it.
There was an answering squeeze.
Moss could have whooped and hollered in celebration. He fought back tears to contain his joy, and pressed his forehead against the cool stone wall to hide whatever his face might be showing.
Logan gargled water behind him and spat onto the flagstones. ‘Right. Let’s get that mutt and cut its pelt off.’
Moss’s stomach churned again. Arran was still lying down. Was he too weak to move? How long would it take to heal from a wound like that?
Logan shouldered the loaded crossbow and headed for the door.
Moss had to buy time.
‘Get the fuck out here, weed.’
Moss jerked forward, into the sunlight.
What would he have done to Elsie, if she hadn’t laid down her ground rules first?
Possibilities opened up to Moss that he had forgotten even existed. He’d been so blinded by the panic that he still mechanically followed the rules Elsie had drilled into him. Half the chains were inside his head.
Logan reached for the tarp. Moss called to the ivy and snapped it around Logan’s mouth.
‘Wha—Mmph!’ Logan thrashed at the vine, clawing at his mouth.
Next, Moss went for his limbs. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said flatly. ‘I can’t possibly hurt you, Logan. Just slow you down a little.’
It was necessary for the roots and ivy to be gentle, or else it wouldn’t work. He had them slither over Logan’s body, trapping his legs first and then going for his arms.
Logan’s eyes landed on him, seething with icy hatred. He twisted one burly arm, snapping the grass roots holding it, and pointed the crossbow at Moss.
Moss didn’t even hear the impact. He simply looked down and registered the bolt sticking out of his chest.
His legs buckled. Moss landed on his knees in front of Logan. Too stunned to think, his roots and ivy all slipped away. A deep heat began to swell inside his ribs.
‘That’ll fuckin’ teach you,’ Logan snarled. He snatched Moss up by the hair and sneered in his face. ‘I’ll skin you, too. But I bet you’d be fuckin’ worthless for selling.’
‘Fuck you,’ Moss choked.
‘Ha.’
Logan let go of his hair and grasped the bolt in Moss’s chest.
Moss’s eyes widened, the blooming pain turning to raw torture as Logan pulled the evil spike out of him. Moss collapsed on the ground, spilling blood into the earth.
Can I die?he wondered vaguely. He’d been starved, and beaten until all his bones were broken, and even drowned once. But being shot in the heart was new to him.
Logan reset the bloodied bolt in the crossbow and pointed it at Moss again. ‘Get up.’
Moss’s body struggled to comply. It was so weak. His vision was blurring.
But there was movement from the truck. Logan was too focused on Moss to notice the shape rising behind him: the wrathful mountain of muscle and fur of the Wulver, and his open maw of fangs that glinted in the sunlight.
Arran lunged, but it was a stumbling dive. His legs seemed to give way and his jaws closed on Logan’s arm on the way down. Logan yelled as he was pulled to the ground with the wolfman on top of him. The crossbow skittered across the dirt where his bitten arm had thrown it.
