Page 8 of Devour
“It doesn’t matter,” Ivar barks out. “We take them first.”
I stand up straighter. “He thinks he can defeat it.” My voice is calm. My mind is sharp. I see my path forward.
His foolish confidence will be his defeat today.
“Without our beasts?” Maddox asks, eyes wide.
Questioning our squad leader is rebellion enough, but then Ronan spits at Ivar’s boots and it sends delirious hope flooding my veins. It’s a drug, and its high is delicious.
A fight within our squad will have catastrophic consequences, even without a monster able to tear us apart on its way.
Catastrophe is exactly what I need.
I could carry the girl with me and reach our drakai in time to protect us.
Or…
I take one final breath of her bright scent, and I release her.
I push her behind me, toward the fluttering of fabric I saw between the leaves, and I retrieve my axe from my belt. I don’t swing, not yet. But my cutting glare at my squad leader is enough to make my point clear.
Ivar roars in rage as the girl scrambles through the brush behind me, but Maddox steps up beside me, followed by Ronan.
The old woman, now released from Ronan’s grip, watches in horror as we challenge our leader.
Ivar swears, eyes stuck to where our captive flees into the brush. He could accept our challenge and obey, or he could doom us all by attempting to solidify his leadership.
His ego could cause our deaths here and now.
The scelp will arrive soon, and if we have not moved out, we will surely perish. We have mere minutes.
Ivar is angry, and we will pay the price in the coming days, but he finally accepts temporary defeat. “To the cave.”
At his command, we release a collective breath and then flee to the shadows to hide from the monster that is set to arrive in moments.
I send a silent goodbye to her, the girl who will continue to haunt my dreams. The girl whose freedom is all the light that is left in this world.
My hope. My disease.
3
Lina
I’m barely able to register anything beyond my fingers digging into the thick mud and the absence of a monster’s arms around me. My panic-filled breaths halt entirely.
Thankfully, my body knows what to do, even while my mind is racing to catch up, and I scramble away from the vile monsters, into the tree line and through the brush. I’m not quiet. I’m not even fast.
I shouldn’t be able to escape them—the death cult warriors with shadows at their command. They captured me; he had his muscular arms gripped tightly over my chest.
It’s everything I’ve feared for the last decade, and somehow, the impossible happened and I’m running free. Terrorized but with wild wind blowing through my hair.
How?
They do not allow their prey to escape.
Sticks and thorns slice into my cheeks and arms as I run, but I don’t feel the sting. I can only focus on escape.
“Down here!” a voice hisses. I’m barely able to hear it over the pulsing of my panicked mind, but I twist and clumsily leap into the pit beneath an overturned tree. The roots, covered in drydirt, scrape into my skin, but then two small arms wrap around me, pulling me down into the leaves.
