Chapter Thirty-Three
Chloe
I could hear Brayden breathing as I followed him. I was grateful for those days that Lachlan tracked me. I’d learned a few tricks that were serving me well right now. Only this time I was the hunter rather than the prey.
I stopped moving when Brayden paused and looked behind him. He was panting and I could smell the fear from where I squatted behind underbrush. The idiot was so concerned about looking behind him that he never noticed me to his left, just out of range of his peripheral vision. I’d been hiding the best I could, but the trees weren’t as dense as the forest around Darrell’s cabin. If he turned his head at just the right time, he would spot me.
Brayden started moving again. He was trying to be quiet, but he sucked at it. I shook my head as I took another step, moving behind a tree.
A shotgun blast made us both pause. Brayden looked behind him again, turning his back completely to me. Now was my opportunity.
I crept closer, using the sound of the next shot to cover my movements. I was almost on top of him when the third blast sounded. He must have sensed me because just as I pounced, he turned.
His eyes widened and he lifted the shotgun, but I was too close. I knocked the gun to the side, free of his hands. My ears rang and I smelled the powder when the gun went off so close to my head, but there was no time to worry about it.
He recovered quickly, shoving me back and making a dive for the weapon. But he underestimated the strength of my fury. The strength of me.
I grabbed his shoulders, jerked him back, and kicked the shotgun as hard as I could toward the trees. It disappeared into the underbrush ten feet away.
Brayden whirled on me, his teeth snapping. When my fist crashed into his nose, annihilating the bones and cartilage, I felt fierce satisfaction. I followed that blow with two more, one to his gut and the other to his jaw.
Shaking his head, Brayden stumbled back. He clutched his abdomen where my fist had sunk into his belly. Then he reached for his knife.
I bared my teeth at him. “Coward,” I snarled. “You’re too weak and spineless to fight me claw and tooth the way a true alpha would. How you thought you were strong enough to be my mate, I’ll never know. I would have chewed you up and spit you out the moment you let your guard down.”
He screamed at me, lunging forward. He might have been a coward and an idiot, but it quickly became clear that he knew how to use the knife he wielded. I evaded his slices and thrusts, looking for my opening.
He was a decent fighter, fast and strong, but he lacked the ability to observe his opponent dispassionately. He also wasn’t as fast as me. Though my blood burned with rage and the desire to kill him, I controlled it. Then I watched and took note of his movements as he attacked.
My father had drilled that into me from childhood—always fight with your head first. Emotions could easily blind you and make you sloppy.
Finally, I saw my opening. Brayden lunged again, swinging the knife in an arc. Instead of evading, I stepped into it, my hand lifting to grip his wrist. Then I used his own momentum to throw him to the ground, his wrist still in my grasp.
I heard the bone snap just before he screamed in agony. I smiled as I took the knife from his limp hand and threw it toward a tree. It pierced the bark, the blade sinking into the wood halfway to the hilt.
Brayden scrambled away from me on his back before jumping to his feet.
“There, now we’re evenly matched,” I told him with a triumphant smile.
His face turned red. “You bitch,” he growled, cradling his broken wrist. “I’m going to kill you. You could have been my mate, my everything, but instead you acted like a whore,” he spat. “You fucked Lachlan. You let him mark what is mine!”
An unholy light came into his eyes and I realized that Brayden Kirkpatrick had lost his grip on reality a long time ago. I couldn’t believe that I never noticed.
When he mentioned the mark, I lifted my hand to my now smooth shoulder. His eyes followed the motion, widening in shock. “It’s gone. How?” His red face turned purple as he charged me. “What did you do to my mark, you cunt?”
I planted my feet, letting him run toward me in his rage. Just before he reached me, I stepped to the side and jabbed my hand into his throat. His feet flew up and I slammed him onto the ground, holding onto his neck with rigid fingers.
His eyes rolled when his head hit the hard earth and I heard the air leave his lungs. Winded, he twitched and flailed.
“I got rid of your mark, Brayden,” I murmured, leaning closer. “Because you had no right to claim me. So I’m going to tell you one last time—I’m not your goddamn mate and I never will be.”
I must have missed the knife sticking out of his boot earlier. I gasped when it slipped too easily between my ribs. I knew immediately it hit something vital by the agony and the strange tingling sensation that encased my body.
“If I die, I’m taking you with me,” he sneered. “Either way you’ll be mine, whether it’s in life or in death.”
When he pulled the knife free I felt the rush of blood and cried out, but I didn’t loosen my hold on his neck. He tried to stab me again, but I was ready this time. I grabbed his hand. His eyes flared with victory when I released his throat.
Until the blade sank into the soft flesh beneath his chin. I ignored the fiery pain that speared through me as I shoved with all my might, never taking my eyes from his shocked gaze.
“Then I’ll have an eternity to torture you,” I whispered. “I’m almost looking forward to it.”
He gurgled around the blade, his hands weakly tugging at the hilt. Then I watched the light go out of his eyes.
I didn’t like killing. I never had.
But in this case, I felt none of my usual pity for the wolf that lay before me. He didn’t deserve my pity.
I pressed my hand to the wound on my side, unsurprised by the amount of blood. Still, it gushed far more than I thought it would. Shit, I knew it was bad.
I ripped the bottom of my shirt and packed it against the wound. I reached into my pocket, looking for my phone. Maybe I could call for help.
My hands were sticky from the blood and the touch screen refused to work. I wiped both my hand and the phone on the only clean spot on my jeans and only then would the phone work properly.
I saw that Calder had called. With shaky hands, I tapped the screen with my thumb to automatically call him back.
He answered on the second ring. “Where are you?”
“In the…woods,” I answered, suddenly breathless.
“Where?”
I glanced around. “Southeast of town. I don’t know exactly where.” My voice was soft, weak, and I hated it.
“We’re coming for you. Are you hurt?”
I glanced down at the blood seeping around the edges of the soaked piece of my shirt. “Yeah. I, uh, I don’t know if I’m going to make it until you get here,” I replied.
“Goddammit!” Calder snarled. “I don’t wanna fucking hear you say that again. You hold on. Finn is with me. He can heal you.”
“He can’t heal the dead, Calder,” I muttered, my vision dimming. I blinked, wondering if a cloud had covered the sun, but realized it was my eyes. I was losing too much blood too quickly and the world was going in and out of focus.
“Shut up, Chloe. You hang on.” I heard him say something to Finn, but my ears were buzzing. “Finn is coming for you. Once he’s locked on to your location, he’s going to cast a spell to take him there.”
“Calder,” I whispered. “Tell I-I-Ian that I’m sorry,” I stuttered over Lach’s first name as a shiver wracked my body.
“Tell him yourself,” he replied sharply.
I couldn’t argue with him because I fell into oblivion.