Page 41 of Ruthless Moon
Every jolt of the truck, every rut in the road, sends a fresh wave of terror through me. My heart throbs wildly, hammering in time with the lurches of the vehicle.
Each pothole, each sudden swerve, reflects in the frantic rhythm of my pulse as we fly down a road away from Ash Hollow and toward O’Connor territory.
When they veer off the familiar path Aiden took me the other day, confusion momentarily drowns my fear. “Where the hell are you going?” The question erupts from me, my voice taut and raspy, barely audible over the wind’s roar and engine’s growl.
There’s a hesitant space of silence before Bast hollers back through the open back cab window, “To the witches.”
The coven.The secret place Meredith has only mentioned in passing. Curiosity and questions buzz around my brain like insects, but I swat them away. Now isn’t the time.
Right now only one thing matters—Liam.
His body is sprawled in the bed of the truck, a haunting display of vulnerability. His skin, usually sun-kissed and warm, is pallid, almost ghostly against the dark bed liner. His chest rises and falls with shallow, ragged breaths. The sound fills me with overwhelming fear.
He’s lost too much blood and it’s still seeping out, covering the tarp and the bed of the truck. At least one bullet found an artery, a river of life now flowing the wrong way. Even with the supernatural healing of his wolf, the battle against time is one he’s losing right in front of me.
Fear and helplessness claw at my insides. I cling tighter to the toolbox handle and press my other hand onto Liam’s shoulder, trying to lend him some of my strength.
But I can only hold on, praying to Fate that we’ll make it to the witches in time.
Liam needs to survive. He has to.
The alternative is too devastating to contemplate.
The truck veers abruptly off the road, plunging straight into a thicket of ash trees. My heart leaps into my throat as I brace for impact, but there is none. The truck barrels through the trees as if they’re mere apparitions, phantoms of the real world.
Once we’re through, there’s nothing. Just a peaceful clearing, a circle of small stones to our right, looking slightly out of place and very man-made. While an eerie calmness blankets the place, my emotions churn wildly beneath the surface.
“What the hell is this?” I blurt out. My pulse roars in my ears, a deafening drumbeat against the silence of the clearing. “Who are you? There’s no door. How do we get inside?”
“We’re his brothers and those rocks are the door,” the younger man responds, his voice laced with an urgency that ripples fear down my spine.
The rocks?
He and Bast jump out of the truck with an agility I can’t match in my current state. They wrench open the tailgate, prying Liam from my grasp with a finality that sends a new wave of terror coursing through me.
No. No. No.
The sudden roar of an engine renews my panic. My heart stammers in my chest as I whip around, my mind conjuring a horde of angry villagers armed with pitchforks.
But it’s Aiden.
Relief and fear intertwine in a twisted dance inside me as he jumps out of his truck, rushing toward us with an alarmed expression. “What happened?”
“Fire at the pavilion, then a shooter with a rifle. Liam took at least two shots saving Gen. She was the target.” Bast’s voice is as tense as a bowstring.
Bast and the younger brother’s arms cradle Liam. Together they march toward the ring of stones, their hurried steps conveying their desperation.
“Open the door. We’re losing him, Aiden,” Bast pleads, the tremor in his voice a harrowing reflection of the terror coiling around my heart.
My chest tightens painfully. The coppery scent of Liam’s blood clings in the air, wrapping around me like a shroud. I swallow hard against the wave of nausea that surges through me. Fear, bitter and icy, lodges itself in my throat.
Powerless, I watch. My hands tremble with the desire to reach out, to feel Liam’s pulse beneath my fingertips, to reassure myself that he’s still alive.
Aiden leaps into action, uttering a phrase in what I’ve been told was old Welsh—the language of magick. But wolves can’tdomagick.
Liam’s two brothers surge forward, urgency palpable in their every move. Then they step across the ring of small white stones and vanish into thin air.
My breath hitches in my throat. Fear and awe thread through my veins.