Page 121 of A Cruel Kindness

My breath fell out of me so heavily, I was sure my lungs collapsed.

But once I—and the Bond—realized she was alive, I switched from soul-crushing grief to panic in a second.

“I’ve got you, Bell. I’ve got you,” I said as I lifted her over my shoulder with as much care as I could manage and whistled for Lucky to come over and stop licking Clover’s side. I knew he was as worried as I was.

Clover seemed to have stopped bleeding, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in pain.

I wasn’t even sure how I managed to haul Bellamy up on Lucky with me, arranging her around my lap so her injured leg wasn’t bumping against the saddle, but I did.

The second my boots hooked into the stirrups, Lucky took over, running even faster than he had to get here. Daylight had started to fade by now, forcing me to trust Lucky’s instincts to get us back to camp.

I knew my way around, even in the darkening light, but there was no focusing on anything else but Bellamy’s slow heartbeat.

The Bond was freaking out, thrashing like a caged animal and snarling for vengeance.

We would get it. Once I found out who fucking did this to her, I would find great joy in meticulously removing their skin from their person, just slow enough that they would remember every horrible second.

I was blind with rage, with grief, with fear. As we rode along, I didn’t care how bad my legs hurt, or how strained my arms were from holding Bellamy’s limp body up and away from the rock of the saddle.

All I cared about was getting her to safety, even if I had to get trampled over to do it.

I couldn’t tell how long it had been before the lights of the camp started dotting the horizon. Lucky grumbled something at Clover, some language only they could understand, that had her sprinting even harder towards camp.

She could move faster without two bodies on her back. I knew Lucky was tired and that he was annoyed he couldn’t tend to Clover. I could feel it in every fabric of our bond.

But he put me first. Put Bellamy first. I could never thank him enough.

Minutes—though an obscure number of them—later, the camp started to gain an outline, and then I heard it.

The sound of hooves slamming against the ground in panic, the raised voices of people shouting commands at each other.

“Soren!” someone called, but I couldn’t tell who over the rushing of blood in my ears.

Lucky and I made it to the small creek that signaled the start of camp when I realized that it was Peter, Ella, Ford, and Esme who had followed Clover towards us.

“Bellamy,” Esme gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Is she—”

“Alive,” I snapped to cut Peter off. I refused to let anyone entertain a reality, whether past or present, where we discussed Bellamy’s death.

Esme fell over Sky’s mane with relief, and while Ford was staring at us with a hard jaw, Shadow turned to press her snout to Esme’s leg in comfort.

My arms gave out on their own, the muscles giving out from overexertion. Bellamy dropped into the saddle, but the movement didn’t wake her.

Peter moved his horse towards us and reached out towards Bellamy. “Here, let me—”

“No,” I snarled, bringing her closer to my chest. “No one touches her.”

Peter frowned in protest. “Soren, you aren’t—”

“I’m carrying her.” My words were final. I didn’t feel much like a person, more like an animal defending against a predator, snapping their jaws at any incoming threat.

Peter’s head turned in a show of hesitation, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. He’d seen this before, seen what would happen if a paranima was around their injured Match and someone tried to get in the middle of it.

I made a point not to look to the light gray horse next to me, nor its rider, who’s eyes were surely cast down.

I lifted Bellamy again, even though my muscles were screaming at me that they couldn’t handle much more. I didn’t give a shit what my body could handle. Bellamy would not experience any more pain for as long as I could help it.