Chapter 334 334
Sabine POV
I am pushing my body harder than I ever have in my life.
Not even when the police stormed the farm did it feel like this. That had been fear this is something else entirely. This is the immediate threat of being taken. Or killed.
I don’t feel the stones that strike my shins, don’t register the rocks that nearly send me sprawling. My lungs are on fire, each breath tearing through my chest, but I keep running because stopping isn’t an option.
If they want me, they’re going to have to earn it.
Their pace is fast but not unnaturally so. No supernatural blur. No predatory glide.
Human.
The realisation gives me a sliver of hope. They’re not werewolves. That means I still have a chance.
If I can just find somewhere to hide somewhere with cover they won’t be able to track me by scent. I just need concealment. A place to disappear.
I keep running, shoving my body past limits it was never meant to cross.
Being captured is not an option.
Then, even as my legs continue moving, I realise where I’ve run.
An old quarry.
My heart lurches violently as I register the sheer rock wall rising ahead of me.
A dead end.
I slam to a stop at the base of the wall, breath ragged, chest heaving. There is no climbing out of this not with bare hands, not with seconds to spare.
So this is it.
I’ll have to fight.
My gaze darts around, landing on discarded tools half-buried in the sand-like dirt. My hand closes around a plank of wood rough, heavy, splintered.
That’s it. That’s all I have.
I curse silently as I press my back against the quarry wall, forcing myself into a corner where they can’t circle behind me. At least this way, I’ll see every blow coming.
They slow to a stop several feet away, smug grins spreading across their faces as they catch their breath. Then they begin to prowl toward me, confident now.
My running did tire them.
If I could just break past them, get back to the diner, reach a car
“Hello, beautiful,” one of them drawls, stepping closer and blowing exaggerated kisses.
I swing.
I put everything I have into the strike, aiming for his head but the plank is heavier than I expect. It clips his shoulder instead.
Still, the force is enough to send him crashing to the ground.
Before I can swing again, another man lunges forward, wrenching the plank from my hands.
I barely have time to gasp before fingers clamp around my throat and I’m hurled backward into the quarry wall. Pain explodes at the back of my head as it strikes stone.
“Get me the photo!” the man snarls, glancing toward the one on the ground.
A piece of paper is shoved into his hand from behind.
He unfolds it.
My face stares back at me.
A wanted poster.
Alive.
“It could be her,” one of them mutters.
“Oh, it’s her alright.” The man gripping my throat fists his hand in my hair and yanks.
I scream as he tugs violently, checking for a wig.
“She’s dyed it blonde,” he shouts over his shoulder, triumphant. “But it’s her.”
“Ow!” I growl as he jerks my hair again, then grabs my chin, forcing my face up to the light.
“She’s thinner but we’ve got her,” he says with satisfaction. “Call it in.”
“Get your hands off me, you pig,” I spit, rage burning through the fear. I will not go quietly. If they take me, it’ll be kicking and screaming and something in his expression tells me he’d enjoy that far too much.
“Now, now, sugar…” My stomach churns as his lips brush my ear.
I’m seconds from retching when he suddenly freezes.
A sharp gasp sounds behind him.
He pulls away from me, turning toward the noise.
Everything happens too fast.
My eyes can’t track the movement only the expression on the man’s face as horror floods it. He turns back toward me, mouth opening
Pain flashes across his features.
Then his body is torn apart.
Not knocked aside. Not thrown.
Torn.
And then he simply… stops existing.
His arm remains clamped around my throat—except now it’s no longer attached to anything.
I scream as I stumble forward, the severed limb dropping heavily to the ground.
The air churns violently, thick with sand and dust, swirling like a storm and then it turns red.
Blood mist.
I stagger away from the wall, staring in disbelief at the quarry floor littered with pieces of bodies.
Even the wanted poster lies there still clutched in a severed hand.
My heart pounds as a terrifying thought strikes me.
I’m not alone.
One of them must have turned on the others killed them to keep the reward for himself.
Slowly, trembling, I bend to retrieve the plank of wood again, forcing my body to prepare for another attack.
Then a figure steps through the settling crimson haze.
Black hair.
Eyes burning a hellish red.
“Did they hurt you?” he growls, his gaze sweeping over me, searching for injuries.
Hurt me?
He’s the one drenched in their blood.
Shock crashes over me in waves as reality finally snaps into place.
Gilles.
Gilles has slaughtered them.
I look down at myself at the blood soaking my clothes, the flecks of flesh clinging to my skin
And then my stomach revolts.
I drop the plank and vomit onto the quarry floor.