Then the stench hit him.
“Killian,” Scout began, his voice sharp. “That smell — blood— “
But Scout didn’t have time to finish. A snarl suddenly ripped the air, tearing through the silence. Scout barely had time to scream before he hit the floor. Something hot and wet wrapped around his neck. Then he felt the fangs — every one of them closed around his throat like a Warren trap.
Scout heard Killian’s voice calling his name, and then his vicious snarl. Scout didn’t know what was happening. The jail cell was dark. Everything was a blur of movement. The scent of blood overwhelmed everything else.
He cried out for Killian. He saw his mate’s eyes glint with horror and rage. He lunged towards Scout.
But it all happened too fast. Killian hadn’t shifted — hadn’t had time. He was still in human form — and in human form, he was too slow to keep up with a wolf.
Scout felt himself be pulled just inches from Killian’s desperate grasp.
The fangs on his suddenly neck let go.
On the ground, too stunned to move, he saw his assailant — the familiar grey fur of the wolf who had attacked him before. The wolf leapt at the still-human Killian in the blink of an eye and landed on his chest. It knocked him off balance and Killian landed on the floor with a thud.
By the time Killian scrambled to his feet, the huge grey wolf had picked Scout back up in its jaws by the scruff of his neck, half-dragging him along the ground - and darted up the stairs, sailed through the courtyard and leapt away from the manor.
The wind rushed through Scout’s hair and whipped his face. He could only watch, completely shell-shocked, as the manor grew smaller and smaller. All he could think of was Killian’s desperate gaze, and the horrified flash in his eyes as his grip just missed.
Just like that, in a single moment, Scout’s perfect life spiralled down.
