Chapter 259
Chapter 259
16- Greta
This has to be the most ridiculous situation I’ve ever found myself in. Here I am, caught in a damn net, dangling from a tree like some cartoon character in a slapstick show. Seriously, who still sets traps like this? It feels like something out of the Middle Ages.
“Finn! Quit messing around with that idiot and get me down!” I shout, frustration bubbling up as I swing back and forth.
There’s a heavy thud as both guys hit the ground. Finn’s wolf growls low and menacingly in my direction. Even though the light is fading fast, I can still tell the difference between these two wolves-they’re almost evenly matched, but I can sense the subtle edges.
I keep scanning the treeline. There are others waiting their turn, shadows blending into the darkening forest, too many to count. If I don’t get down soon, this is going to be a death sentence for Finn. They’ll wear him down, one battle after another. I glance upward again. There’s no way he can reach me like this. The only option is to climb the net myself, which was clearly designed to trap guys the size of Finn and Ryker. I’m swinging wildly, tilted like a pendulum, and it’s a nightmare trying to keep my balance. Whoever set this trap knows exactly what they’re doing with this medieval contraption.
Finally, I reach the net’s closure. My weight makes it impossible to open, no matter how hard I pull or tug. I look down and see Finn struggling below; I can smell the coppery scent of blood in the air. Damn it! I extend my claws above the net’s closure and swipe furiously.
Suddenly, my wolf shifts as we plummet toward the ground. She thrashes wildly, shredding the ropes with her claws as we fall. The impact hits hard, sending a shockwave up her legs, but we land running. No time to nurse bruises now-some of the stragglers at the treeline have joined the fight, emboldened now that Finn isn’t alone.
My wolf rears up to face a massive opponent. This guy is too big to be normal-his proportions are all wrong. He’s like a werewolf T-Rex, with a barrel chest twice as wide as normal and tiny, stubby legs. Something’s definitely off about him, but there’s no time to analyze. We slash at his eyes, then clamp down on one of his forelegs. He howls in agony before vanishing from sight. My wolf has tufts of his fur stuck between her teeth-gross. She glances over to see Finn piled on top of the burly beast. I’m not sure if he threw himself in or was thrown, but I’m grateful for the backup.
A sudden growl pulls my attention just in time to dodge a swipe of claws that flashes inches from my face. Another giant, another nightmare. What are these guys on? I shoot a quick look at Finn, who’s still locked in combat with the T-Rex beast. This new opponent is huge-tall and broad, probably the type to just crush his enemies by sitting on them. He’s about to get a rude surprise.
We circle each other, biting and clawing, a deadly dance. He’s toying with me, clearly confident because of his size. His arrogance is about to be his downfall.
We duck and slide under as he pulls back for a heavy strike. I aim straight for his vulnerable spots. We roll and scratch along his underbelly, and for good measure, my wolf delivers a brutal bite that neuters him—one less reproducing jerk in the world. He collapses, and we shove him sideways. Let him bleed out.
I take out two more females, using a hip check to slam one into the other and then snapping their necks with ease. Then I glance back at Finn. I still smell his blood from earlier. The rest of their group must have scattered to warn Janelle about what’s happening. Finn took down several of them before I jumped in, and now I’ve added my own tally to the chaos.
The forest around us grows eerily quiet, save for a faint rustle about thirty yards away. That’s Finn. I stumble toward the sound, feeling disoriented—as if drunk. Something is definitely wrong. My wolf refuses to shift; there’s a heavy unease settling over us. I wish she’d give me some kind of clue.
Then it hits me. Oh shit, Finn! Thıs text ıs hosted at.net
He’s covered in blood-mostly his own. He’s back in human form, panting heavily and struggling to move. I can’t tell if he’s trying to stand or just crawl away. A twig snaps under our feet, and his gaze snaps to us. A chill runs through me, sinking deep into my stomach.
Finn is usually a fun-loving, childish joker—a wild card with a grin always ready. But the look in his eyes now is the complete opposite. There’s nothing but pure hatred, rage, and anger. I don’t think he even sees my wolf. He’s seen her before; she’s not new to him, so he should recognize us. But the death glare he’s giving us sends a cold wave through my veins.
My wolf lowers herself, belly flat against the ground, muzzle touching the earth. We never submit to anyone, but she senses his desperate need for safety. He doesn’t know who to trust. He trusts no one. He’s trying to slip away into the forest to heal— or maybe to die alone. Even when surrounded by people, Finn is always alone.
She whimpers softly, pulling my attention back to him. Slowly, she crawls forward on her belly toward Finn. His expression softens just a fraction, a tiny crack in the armor of hostility. I’ll take that as a hopeful sign.