Page 68 of Fenrir

She swallowed hard and slid down the tree slowly, careful not to bump the dagger stuck in her shoulder. Though the dagger hadn’t killed her like it would have normal shifters, it was weakening her by the minute. She had to remove it. She crouched on the ground and lowered her wrists under her rear. Her arm screamed at her, and her wrists pulled against her restraints. She tried to slide her arms under her hips, but they’d been tied too tight.

A gunshot rang out somewhere in the forest, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

Fenrir!

Grace got back to her feet, trying to think.

Think. Think. Think.

She stopped and looked down, shaking her head. She needed to keep her wits about her if she wanted to get herself and Fenrir out alive.

She pulled on her spirit self and allowed her arms to lengthen. Down and down and down they stretched as white fur rose from her pores. When they reached the optimal length, she crouched again and easily slipped her arms under her bum and down her legs.

She sucked in several deep breaths as her body shook and broke out in a sweat. Too long. The knife had been in too long and too deep. She was a thousand times more exhausted than she had been when being stabbed at Odin’s.

Once her hands were in front of her, Grace yanked the dagger from her shoulder and dropped it to the dirt before kicking it away. Her limbs shook with pain, and she felt like she’d just done ten thousand push-ups.

A scream of terror sounded to her left, and then the ground shook as something big hit a tree nearby.

Fen!

Grace managed to get back to her feet. She pulled at her restraints, but she’d already used up every ounce of strength she had.

She gulped in air, wanting to find him. But she knew her best way of living through the evening was to stay out of his way.

She just prayed that when it was all over, Fenrir wouldn’t hate her for what he’d had to do to save her stupid, naive ass.

A crunch of footsteps sounded next to her, and Grace turned to look around and came face to face with one of her brothers.

He smiled. “Father has been looking for you.”

* * *

Fenrir torethe limbs from a man and tossed his torso into a tree before running to a giant boulder, leaping over it, and pinning another man to the ground before he could fire a shot at Loki. Fenrir snarled at the man, whose eyes widened in terror just before Fenrir ripped his throat out.

He turned his head as Loki slashed through a man’s chest and then beheaded him.

Loki looked over at Fenrir, his breathing heavy. “I haven’t been in a battle in too long. I think I might be getting slow.”

Fenrir snorted in response.

Loki wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, smearing it with blood. “How many of these guys are there? We’ve killed what? Twenty? Twenty-five of them? There can’t be many more.”

Fenrir sniffed the air. “There are four left. And one of them is her father,” he said thickly.

Loki nodded. “Have you caught her scent yet?”

Fenrir shook his head, just a scream rang out.

“Fenrir!”

Grace!

Fenrir roared and took off toward the sound. He’d not gotten far when he caught it, her scent and the scent of her blood.

Again she cried out his name, and he turned left. Loki was at his side, keeping pace. Just as she shouted his name a third time, the sound was cut off, and Fenrir’s whole body shuddered.

No. Please, Odin, no. Don’t let her be gone. Don’t let her die. I’ll do anything. Anything.