Chapter 63

Hadrian dragged me out of the trunk, my legs buckling the moment they touched the ground. My body gave out, and I collapsed into his arms.

"Careful." His low chuckle rippled through the cold air as he steadied me, guiding me to lean against the car.

"H-how?" I stammered, my teeth chattering from the biting chill.

His eyes swept over me, assessing. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was heavy and warm, but its weight didn’t erase the sight of the dark stains—blood.

“We need to move,” he said, gripping my hand and pulling me forward. “This is the pack’s territory. It won’t take long before more wolves show up.”

The coat's warmth did little to chase away the chill creeping over me, a chill born not of the cold but of the scene around us. As we trudged along the forest road, the carnage became glaringly clear. The ground beneath us was smeared with blood, wolf blood. Mangled bodies were strewn amidst four cars, their twisted metal frames smashed together in a grisly tableau of destruction. It was a slaughter, pure and unrelenting, and all of it—every ounce of blood spilled—was Hadrian's doing.

The horrifying scene echoed a memory, one I could never forget. Malcolm and his team, standing in the castle, their fate sealed before they even realized it. That was Hadrian’s way: relentless, merciless. And now, here we were, deep in enemy territory. The longer we stayed, the closer we drew to the wrath of an entire pack.

I didn’t ask where we were going. It didn’t matter. As long as I could feel the solid grip of his hand in mine, I didn’t care. My bare feet, soaked in mud and wolf blood, stumbled over the scattered remains, but I kept moving.

Hadrian’s sleek black Bentley came into view, parked deliberately across the road to block any escape. Not a single scratch marred its pristine exterior, a sharp contrast to the chaos around it. My gaze drifted to the first crushed car in the wreckage. Its hood bore two distinct impressions—handprints.

I swallowed hard. “The cars…” My voice wavered. “Did you stop them… with your hands?”

A sly smile curved his lips, his piercing gaze locking onto mine.

“Get in the car,” he commanded, his voice cutting through my unease like a blade.

The weight of his tone sent a thrill of adrenaline coursing through me. I nodded, nerves twisting in my stomach as I reached for the door. Before I could climb in, a faint sound from the forest froze me.

Hadrian tensed. His sharp senses caught what mine couldn’t. With a swift push, he shoved me into the car and stalked toward the trees, his every step radiating deadly intent. The wolves were here.

The silence shattered as gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks echoing through the woods. My heart seized. “No…” The word slipped out, barely audible as fear rooted me in place.

Each shot tore through the night, mingling with the sounds of a savage fight. I couldn’t just sit there, playing the helpless damsel. Before I could think twice, I slipped out of the car and took a defensive stance, my body trembling but ready.

The air was thick with the wolves’ scent, a stark reminder of where we were. I scanned the shadows, desperate for any sign of Hadrian. Fear clawed at my chest, not for myself but for him. If they were using silver bullets, even Hadrian’s strength might not be enough.

Then, the underbrush rustled, and a man emerged from the trees. Towering and powerfully built, his brown skin glistened in the dim light. Curly black hair framed a face twisted with menace, his glowing red eyes locking onto me.

“Well, hello there, slave.” His deep voice was laced with amusement as he advanced.

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to call out for Hadrian. I couldn’t risk drawing more wolves here. Instead, I squared my shoulders and dropped the coat shielding me, revealing my trembling frame clad in nothing but a light-pink silk dress.

His laughter was sharp and mocking. “You’re going to fight me, little slave?” He leered, his gaze crawling over me like a predator sizing up easy prey.

“I’m not a slave,” I growled, my voice steady despite the fear curling in my stomach.

He took another step, smirking. His overconfidence was his first mistake.

Without warning, I struck, my fist driving into his gut. He doubled over, a guttural growl tearing from his throat. I didn’t let up. My next blow landed squarely on his chin, sending him sprawling.

He roared, enraged, but I didn’t stop. Kick after kick, I poured every ounce of my fury into him, refusing to let him regain his footing. When he finally lay still, unconscious, I panted heavily, my strength nearly spent.

“Bravo.” The slow clap sent a chill down my spine.

I turned to see four more wolves stepping out of the shadows, their laughter echoing mockingly. My heart raced as they closed in, their muscular frames radiating confidence.

“Funny, human?” one sneered, his tone dripping with disdain.

But the laughter died abruptly. The forest fell silent, the oppressive hush broken only by the whisper of the wind.

And then I saw him.

Hadrian emerged from the shadows, his presence as commanding as ever. In one swift motion, he silenced the taunting shifter, his head severed cleanly from his body.

The others didn’t have time to react. In a blur of motion, Hadrian tore through them, his claws slicing through flesh and bone. The forest floor was soon littered with their remains.

I stood frozen, breathless, as the silence returned.

Hadrian was merciless. He flicked his hands clean, droplets of blood scattering from those who had foolishly dared to oppose him.

"Why is my coat on the ground?" he asked, his voice coldly casual as he raised an eyebrow.

"I... I... It was his fault!" I stammered, my trembling hand pointing at the unconscious wolf I had knocked down earlier.

His gaze followed my gesture, landing on the lifeless figure sprawled across the dirt. A smirk curved his lips as he leaned over and, without hesitation, slit the man's throat.

"W-why?" The word tumbled from me, breathless and horrified.

"I can't leave witnesses. No one can know I was here tonight," he replied, his tone as detached as if he were discussing the weather. He picked his coat off the ground and draped it over my shoulders once more, the gesture oddly protective in its stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded.

We got into Hadrian's car in silence. The engine roared to life, and the vehicle sped down the narrow road. I sat in the passenger seat, my thoughts a swirling storm of gratitude, relief, and an inexplicable unease. I wanted to speak—to ask if he was all right, to pour out my thanks, to demand answers about Icarus—but my words felt trapped beneath the weight of everything I had just witnessed.

Finally, I managed to open my mouth. "H-how did you know where I was?" The question escaped before I realized I’d spoken aloud.

"We tracked the traffic cameras," he replied tersely, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "Those wolves weren’t exactly concerned about keeping a low profile."

"But... how did you even know I was kidnapped?" I pressed, my voice betraying my desperation.

Hadrian shot me a sharp glance, his disbelief palpable. Then, with an exasperated sigh, he said, "Your bodyguard works for me. It’s his job to report to Gareth wherever you go."

The mention of my bodyguard ignited a fresh wave of panic. "H-how is Icarus? Is he alive?" I blurted out, unable to contain myself.

Hadrian’s glare darkened. "He’ll live," he hissed through gritted teeth.

I swallowed hard and offered a sheepish smile, though I knew my questions had tested his patience. My thoughts were chaotic, my nerves frayed, and the endless stretch of forest outside the window only heightened my tension.

"Um... thank you," I mumbled, lowering my gaze.

From the corner of my eye, I caught the faint twitch of his lips—a flicker of amusement that softened the harsh lines of his face. His anger seemed to ebb, if only slightly.

"The pack’s territory ends here," he announced as the car finally merged onto the state road.

Relief washed over me like a wave, and I exhaled shakily, offering him a tentative smile. It was then that I noticed his complexion—paler than usual, the edges of his face taut with strain. A chill crept over me as realization struck.

"Are you all right?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with fear.

"I will be... if we make it back to the castle within the hour," he muttered, his teeth clenched as he pressed harder on the accelerator.

Panic surged within me as my gaze fell on his neck. Thin, faint blue lines traced the contours of his veins—a telltale sign I had seen before. My chest tightened as the memory of his last encounter with silver bullets resurfaced.

"The silver... Did you get shot?!" My voice rose, frantic, as I searched him for signs of injury, cursing myself for not noticing sooner.

"It grazed my shoulder," he admitted, his tone tinged with bitterness. "I managed to remove the bullet, but the silver..." He trailed off, his expression darkening. "It’s already in my bloodstream."