Page 82 of Tainted Saints
“And what about Alfonso’s proof?” Lan asks, his brows lowered.
“This is something we can take to him. I doubt we’re the first they’ve hunted. He practically told us they’ve done this before,” Blaine growls out, and I have to agree. There must be a trail Alfonso and his people can follow.
“So we evade them for the next”—Lan checks his watch—“two and three-quarter hours.” My heart thuds painfully. It’s a long fucking time to be running, but you don’t get to be the leaders of a pretty badass gang without learning about hiding from the feds.This can’t be too much harder, can it?
“Nothing that was ever worth it was easy,” I say, and they both nod. “Let’s go earn our girl.”
We break apart, facing the waiting men once more.
“We agree to your terms,” Lan states in a hard voice, and I don’t imagine the glee that lights up more than one face in the dark. They look like fucking ghouls, and shivers run across my skin at the deal we’ve just made with these creatures.
“Excellent,” the Ambassador coos, and I swallow hard. Something still isn’t right here, but I can’t put my finger on it. “Your extra hour starts now.”
A thrill runs down my spine as I unclip Bolt’s lead, knowing that he’ll follow us and it’ll be easier if he’s free to move.
We take off at a sprint into the dark woods that surround us, Lan in the lead as usual, and soon we can no longer hear the horses or dogs, just the silence of nature around us and our own footfalls and heavy breathing.
“It’ll be harder for them to follow us if we stick to the trees,” Blaine huffs, his chest heaving as we slow to a jog, pacing ourselves. Now that we’ve got ahead, we need to keep our energy for the next couple of hours ahead. “The dogs can sniff us out, but the horses won’t be able to get to us as easily.”
I shrug off my light hoodie. “Let’s leave a false trail to confuse the dogs,” I tell them, running in a random direction for a few seconds, throwing my hoodie and then doubling back to meet up with the other two who paused when I took off. We move on, lightly jogging, and then Blaine copies me, Lan doing the same when we’ve gone a bit further. Then we take a new direction, we can always do the same with our shirts if we need to, although it’s fucking freezing out so I’d rather keep something to stave off the cold.
All the hair on my body stands on end when a hunting horn sounds in the distance, our eyes connecting for a second, then we pick up the pace, following a river that we came upon which takes us deeper into the park.
I know that this area is a mix of woods and open grassland, but as Blaine says, it’s better to stick to the woods, although they may be able to see our trail through the broken undergrowth if they’ve got some decent trackers. The odds may be against us, but we have a determination that they lack. We know how to survive when it seems like that is impossible.
I jump when the sound of a shot rings out in the night.
“They’ve got fucking guns,” Lan pants, his jaw clenching as we pick up speed again. “We have one knife between us.”
“Well, luckily we’re good at running, Daddy,” I puff out, my chest starting to burn a little as we keep moving. The discomfort will have to wait, we can’t afford to let our guard down.
Bolt is by my side, though Lan is up ahead, he’s always been closer to me and it warms my soul to have him here, even if this is a fucking dangerous situation. The sounds of dogs barking fills the night air, and it’s way too close for my liking.
“We have to split up,” Blaine states, barely out of breath even though sweat dots his brows. The moon is both a blessing and a curse because it lights our way, but will also make our paths that much more obvious.
“No,” Lan growls, his fists clenched as he jogs.
“It’ll send them in different directions, confuse the dogs more,” Blaine reasons, and although I don’t want to separate from them, it does make the most sense. “We have our phones so we can call each other if need be. Just make sure they’re on vibrate only.”
Reaching into my pocket I do just that, cursing myself for not thinking about it sooner.
“He’s right, Lan,” I huff out, Bolt growling low in his chest but not barking, like he knows that would give us away in an instant. “We need all the advantages we can get.”
“Fuck,” Lan hisses, knowing that we’re right but hating it as much as I do. “Fine, we split up, but I swear to fucking god if they catch either of you I will kill you myself.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” I tell him, veering off down a small deer track, Bolt at my side. I check my watch, we have an hour left. That’s nothing really.
My heart races as I hear the sounds of crashing hooves from somewhere nearby, and I try to keep as quiet as possible while also going as fast as I can. The sound seems like it’s getting closer, but looking around, I can’t see anything so I go down another small pathway, jogging for several heart-stopping moments as it feels like whoever is chasing me is catching up.
A shot rings out, making my ears ring as I jerk and stumble, falling to the ground with a grunt. Rolling onto my back, I look down to see a flower of blood blooming on my pec, my brows dipping as I feel no pain. It takes a moment for the fact that I’ve been shot to register, my body so full of adrenaline that it doesn’t even hurt, but as the flower grows and my head starts to swim, I know it must be a bit serious.
“Fuck,” I say, only it’s a bit garbled, like I’ve been drinking too much of my favourite whiskey. Bolt whines next to me, then growls low, his lips pulled back to expose sharp canines as the sound of hoofbeats slows and then stops.
“Gottcha,” a voice I vaguely recognise says, and blinking, I watch as the figure dismounts, a shotgun slung over his arm, sauntering towards me. It’s not until the moon hits his face that I know where I’ve seen him before. He’s that asshole’s father, Albert Pennington the Second, I assume. Dumbass name. “Time to finish the job.”
I blink, but it feels slow, and although I try to get up, to move away or do fucking something, my limbs are too heavy and just won’t obey. I blink again, the sound of a snarl and then a man’s screams assaulting my ears, and slowly, I try to make sense of the image that is now before me.
The man, Albert, is writhing on the ground, Bolt with his jaws clamped around his neck, the shotgun lying on the ground. The horse is gone, but I know the sounds will draw the other hunters. I try to reach for the gun, but my fucking arms won’t obey, and then a gurgling sound has my eyes darting back to watch as Bolt tears Albert’s throat clean out, lifeless eyes looking at me as he dies.