Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(54)

She pushed her legs even faster, but she was still trailing three wolves, who were taking their time to attack. It was as if they were playing with her, or letting her tire herself out. The big gray one Gentry had fought first was loping along the road beside her, his eyes a dead and icy blue. His neck was streaming blood, making a trail of red in the snow, but he didn’t seem bothered the injury. Blaire was slipping where the ice was thick, and it was slowing her down. Her leg was throbbing, her heartbeat was pounding against her chest, her lungs hurt from chugging the cold air, and every muscle in her body was twitching with exhaustion. Behind her, there was a resounding boom, and she ducked as heat blasted against her skin. A quick glance behind showed Gentry’s truck in flames, lighting up the night.

When she turned back, the big gray wolf was right there. He snapped his teeth too close to her hand, and she pulled it away just a millisecond before he broke her skin. Blaire locked her legs against the ice and skidded onto her backside because there was a line of wolves blocking the road right in front of her. Her tailbone felt like it had blasted up into her throat, but there was no time for recovery. She scrambled up and away from the gray wolf who was herding her into the center of a loose circle of wolves.

And then Gentry was there, circling her tightly, attention drifting from one wolf to the other. He tossed back his head and let off a loud howl. It was short, but so loud it hurt. Blaire hunched her shoulders and covered her ears as she searched frantically for a hole big enough to escape through. She hadn’t been fast enough, and now she and Gentry were both easy targets.

He went after a black wolf who drifted too close but didn’t engage before he bolted back to her and placed himself between her and Big Gray.

Blaire could clearly see the pack dynamics in play. The others were drawing Gentry away from her one by one, ducking closer and tempting him to lock onto them, while Big Gray paced closer.

A distant howl rose into the air, followed directly by another, and the effect on the pack was instant. All heads lifted and drifted in the direction of the woods where the haunting notes had come from. Ears were all erect, and Big Gray snarled, baring blood-stained teeth. The woods were alive with movement and glowing eyes as two monster wolves, much bigger than the others, sprinted toward them. One was black, but not like the other wolves. He was demon black with white eyes, while the other was gray mottled with brown and white with eyes the color of the sun.

Asher and Roman were here.

Gentry kept his focus on the pack, and when one ducked in with determination, he had no choice but to engage.

Big Gray let off a deep bark, and the pack lunged as one for her and Gentry. Blaire screamed as the two closest wolves’ sharp teeth sank into her jacket and yanked her arm so hard she slammed to the ground. The sound of snarling was so loud now, and all around her was war. The Strikers were ripping into the pack with a vengeance, and the snow was being painted with crimson. But it was the two wolves on her that kept her attention. Both were a mottled gray color. They would’ve been beautiful if not for the horrifying looks of violence on their faces. It didn’t matter that Blaire was fighting and hitting and kicking as hard and as furiously as she could. Their bites pierced through her clothes, and the first puncture of teeth was agony. The second was less, and so were the third and the fourth, and finally the pain ran together until it dulled suddenly. There was no point in screaming now, so she let the scratchy sound die in her throat.

Both wolves were ripped off her by Roman and Asher as Gentry battled Big Gray. The other wolves were scattering into the woods, limping, bleeding, escaping. The Strikers stood like sentries beside her as her mate snarled and bit and tore into the alpha of the Bone-Rippers.

Did he know her life was over yet?

Did Asher understand in this form? Did Roman?

Tears streamed down her cheeks. They were the only warm things about her. Inside her body, her blood had chilled to ice, stretching like clawed, dead fingers from the seeping bite-marks on her arms until it reached her chest, her stomach, her legs.

Gentry had pinned Big Gray, his teeth on his throat, poised to shred his neck and end his life, but Asher bolted forward and blasted into Gentry. Why? Why not let him end this? Why not let him avenge their dad? Avenge her?

Something big passed between Asher and Gentry with a look, and they both allowed Big Gray to drag his broken body toward the woods.

Blaire didn’t feel well. The woods were beginning to spin around her, and she swayed where she sat. A cold sweat broke out all over her body, and she could feel a poisonous fog filling each vein. She looked down at her shredded arms. Red, red, now I’m dead.