Page 56 of Property of Prophet

The trees part, and the enormous black hellhound walks into the clearing with the kind of confidence only Fury possesses. Heat rolls off him in visible waves, distorting the air around his body until he looks almost unreal, and every pawprint he leaves behind fills instantly with water before freezing into solid ice.

His head is low. He sweeps the clearing once, twice, sees Ranger, sees the tracks leading to the cabin, then sees me.

Fury stops. His ears flatten so suddenly they disappear into the thick black fur around his head, and a sound escapes him that I’ve never heard before. It’s somewhere between a growl and a whine.

“Jesus,” Lily whispers.

“That’s Fury.”

“The Hellhound?”

“Yeah.”

“The name suits him.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

Fury’s head snaps toward the window. He stops. I’ve watched the bastard run straight at things with enough teeth to swallow a man whole. I’ve seen him burn armies out of holes in the earth. Fury does not hesitate. “I’ve never seen him do that,” I murmur.

“Do what?”

“Hesitate.”

Fury takes on step toward the cabin and stops again. His ears flatten, and the sound that comes out of him isn’t a growl.

It fucking breaks me.

I’ve hear Fury furious. I’ve heard him tear into things that should have terrified him. I’ve heard the hellhound in him promise death in a dozen different ways.

But I’ve never heard him make that sound.

Then his gaze travels over me. The silver hair, the weight I’ve lost. The body that no longer carries a trace of Heaven. Whatever he sees finishes the job.

His head snaps back and the roar that rips out of him rattles every window in the cabin.

My vision blurs, and for a moment I can’t breathe.

Lily glances back at me, concern written plainly across her face. “They love you.”

I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Yeah.”

“They’re devastated.”

“So am I.”

She doesn’t tell me everything will be fine. One of the thousand reasons I’m falling for her.

Before either of us can say another word, a massive shadow moves through the eastern tree line.

Unlike Fury, the Kodiak doesn’t announce himself. He doesn’t need to. Blade has never confused volume with authority.

The enormous bear walks into the clearing with the same quiet confidence I’ve watched him carry into every battle we’ve ever fought, his broad shoulders swaying beneath the weight of the pack strapped across his back. He doesn’t hurry or stop to assess the situation. He simply takes everything in.

Ranger waiting.

Fury standing motionless in the melting snow.

The cabin.