“We didn’t have any on hand to dose you before the fight,” he sneers. “So this will have to do.”
I don’t understand. “Dose me?”
He nods towards the cut on my arm. “In case you think about escaping. That’ll need an antidote in about an hour. We usually inject it.” His eyes gleam as he watches the blood drip from my arm to the ground. “Think I like this way more.”
The crowd’s getting restless.
I’m trying to block them out, but my focus is wavering. They’re not happy with the lack of fighting, and there’s even a few boos laced in amongst the quiet chatter.
Fox raises an eyebrow. “Better give them what they want, unless you want to end up like your friend.” He draws a finger across his throat.
I lunge for him, a red haze colouring my vision. That same tug pulls at me from deep inside and I fucking know what it is, but it’s like I can’t take that final step andshift.
Fox laughs as he dances back out of the way. Cheers ring out around us as he slices me with that fucking blade again. I snarl, shocked when there’s a wild, feral edge to it.
“Shift,” he hisses. “The collar’s designed to accommodate your other form.” He gestures to the crowd and grins. “They want to see it.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about them.” I lunge for him again, but he’s too quick on his feet. Too used to fighting like this, while I’m fucking clueless. I’ve never been in a fight, like, ever. I don’t even know how to throw a punch.
“Shift,” he says again, darting forwards, and I’m too slow to get out of the way. He cuts my T-shirt open, the edge of the blade leaving a shallow wound from my chest to my stomach.
Jesus fuck, it’s like acid being poured into my skin.
I stumble backwards, wiping at the blood and desperately trying to get the aconite out of me, but it doesn’t help.
And it hurts so bad.
My body’s on fire everywhere Fox cut me. My jaw throbs, and I try... I fuckingtryto pull on that thread, to yank my wolf to the surface, but nothing fucking happens. It’s like I’m missing the last part of the puzzle, and I don’t fucking know what it is.
I want Lynx.
I want him to hold me in his arms and tell me what the fuck I’m doing wrong.
I want him so much, the ache in my chest expands, barrelling outwards, consuming everything in its wake until it’s all I can fucking feel.
Lynx, help me.
I throw my head back androar.
LYNX
The sound of a wolf in need echoes around the forest, pulling us up short.
Morgan.
I know it’s him. Every fibre of my being sings with the knowledge, but the raw desperation takes me out at the knees.
Grey catches me, grunting under the weight of a six-foot-four shifter. Flint hurries to help him before we both end up on the ground, and between them, they hold me upright long enough for me to pull myself together.
“It’s him,” I state, like they need an explanation, but maybe I need to say it out loud. To convince myself that he’s alive.
For now.
I shrug them off, but Flint catches my arm before I can move.
“We can’t just run in there.”
“He needs me,” I growl, wrenching my arm free.
