Page 17 of Bleed the Shadows
“Help me with her pants.”
13
BRAM
I feltMaeve’s scream in my bones.
“Where is it coming from?” I asked Poe.
There was no discussion about whether it was Maeve. Remy and Poe felt it in their bones too. I saw it in their eyes.
“This way.” Poe was already running.
I fell in next to him, Remy just behind us. It took me a second to recognize the feeling spreading through my chest, tightening around my heart like a snake.
I was afraid. Afraid something would happen to Maeve.
“Who the fuck…?” Remy said as we ran.
“The Hawks?” Poe suggested.
“The Hawks aren’t stupid enough to fuck with her after I marked her.” Marking Maeve in the holding room had been selfish: I’d wanted to tear the place apart at the thought of anyone else touching her.
But it hadn’t just been selfish.
My mark in the Hunt was ironclad. It meant safety for Maeve in the tunnels.
It meant protection.
Now I would do anything to find her: turn the place upside down, burn it to the ground, bleed the fucking shadows.
“So who?” Remy asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But when I find them, they’re as good as dead.”
14
MAEVE
I screamedlouder than I’d ever screamed in my life. Some of it was nonsensical, but some of it made perfect sense.
“You motherfuckers! The Butchers are going to kill you! They’re going to destroy you and I’m going to help them!”
I was still scared, but my fear was buried under a comforting layer of fury.
Howdarethese assholes? How fuckingdarethey?!
By the time they got my pants and underwear off, my voice was raw, my body weak from fighting them with the chains around my wrists.
And that was when the gravity of the situation set in: I was naked except for my leather jacket, my arms stretched above my head by the heavy cuffs embedded in the stone wall.
Defenseless. My worst fear.
They’d even pulled off my boots, rendering what little fight I had left in my legs completely futile.
There were three of them: the beefy meathead who’d caught me, the scrawny guy who’d helped him take off my boots and pants, and the guy who stood back, mostly observing, except for the moment when he’d leaned in to speak to me.
Who said we’re marking you?
