Chapter 124
Raven
A twig snapped somewhere to their left.
Both boys froze, turning slowly toward the sound.
The underbrush rustled violently.
"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck—" Leo grabbed Miles's shoulder, using him as a human shield.
Miles's knuckles went white around his branch.
The bushes exploded outward and—
A rabbit burst through, eyes wild with panic, and disappeared into the opposite tree line.
Complete silence.
Then Miles lowered his branch, letting out a shaky laugh. "Just a rabbit. It was just a fucking rabbit."
"Jesus Christ," Leo wheezed, hand over his racing heart. "I think I just aged ten years."
"Master's messing with us. There's no bear. She's probably watching and laughing right now."
They both visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, breathing returning to normal.
That's when I heard it.
The faint creak of wood under massive weight. Coming from directly behind the boys, where an ancient oak's heavy branches stretched over the clearing.
Oh, this is going to be good.
I shifted my grip on the knife, every muscle coiling in preparation.
The bear dropped from the branch like a shadow given form.
I'd expected a standard black bear—maybe four hundred pounds, five feet at the shoulder.
This was not that.
This was a goddamn tank with fur. Seven feet tall. Easily six hundred and fifty pounds of muscle, claw, and rage. Its coat was so dark it seemed to absorb light, and the scars crisscrossing its muzzle told a story of dominance and survival. This wasn't just any bear.
This was a king.
Miles and Leo hadn't even registered its presence yet. They were still laughing about the rabbit, completely oblivious to the apex predator standing five feet behind them.
I moved.
Fast.
"DOWN!" I shouted, already sprinting.
They turned just as the bear reared up with a roar that rattled my bones. Miles stood frozen, directly in the creature's path as it began to charge.
I reached them in three seconds flat, grabbed Miles by his jacket, and yanked him sideways hard enough to send him sprawling. The bear's momentum carried it through the space where Miles had been standing a heartbeat earlier.
I stepped into its path.
Six hundred and fifty pounds of enraged predator charging at full speed, and I waited until the last possible second—until I could smell its breath, see the individual strands of saliva flying from its jaws—then pivoted.
Matador style.
The bear thundered past, so close its fur brushed my jacket.
Too slow. Center of gravity too high, recovery time too long. If this were a human opponent, it would be dead already.
I spun to face it as the beast skidded to a halt, claws gouging furrows in the earth. It turned, smaller eyes finding me, and for a moment we just stared at each other.
"Is that your best?" I called out, letting amusement color my voice. "That's what you call hunting?"
It roared, spraying saliva, then charged again.
Here we go.
I'd fought men twice my size. Trained killers hopped up on combat drugs who could punch through drywall. Ex-special forces operators who'd killed more people than this bear had ever seen.
But there was something primal about facing down a wild animal. Something pure.
The bear came at me with everything—claws extended, jaws wide, a living avalanche of fur and murder. I waited until it committed, then dropped into a slide beneath its swipe. My knife flashed up, aiming for the exposed underbelly—
—and found nothing but air.
The bear twisted mid-attack with impossible agility for its size, one massive paw coming down where my head had been a fraction of a second earlier. I rolled, came up in a crouch, and re-evaluated.
Okay. Fast for its size. Experienced. This one's actually fought before.
The bear circled, and I matched its movement. We were both predators now, sizing each other up. Looking for openings.
It lunged again, and this time I went for the throat. My blade connected—I felt it pierce hide and muscle—but this body I was inhabiting, this teenage girl's frame, simply didn't have enough strength behind it.
The knife stuck in the bear's shoulder instead of its neck, lodged between bone and sinew.
"Fuck," I breathed.