His opponent’s eyes widened in disbelief as he realized it was a killing blow.
Drantos felt no sympathy. Any enforcer of Decker’s who would attack other VampLycans to steal a woman deserved death—especially one who had come to kidnap Dusti and Bat.
They knew why their clan leader wanted the women, and the outcome if Aveoth accepted a trade. They’d be helping the war begin. It would mean families fighting members from different clans. Cousins killing cousins. Brothers battling each other, in some cases, if they’d mated women from other clans and joined them to keep her with her family. Decker would probably have killed any of his enforcers who refused his orders but death would be preferable than starting a civil war.
This man under him bought into his clan leader’s craziness.
The male screamed when Drantos dug his claws in deeper, piercing his heart. It was a sickening feeling, finding the beating source of the male under him and tearing into it. He watched the enforcer’s eyes as death took him. It was fast in reality but time seemed to stand still until the tense body under his grew limp. The male exhaled his last breath and his head slightly turned. Sightless eyes peered up at the darkening sky.
Drantos yanked his claws out and slowly pushed himself off the male. Then he turned his head, frantically searching for Dusti in the water. The river turned out of sight a few hundred yards up. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He sniffed the wind but could only pick up the scent of blood from the enforcer he’d just killed. He studied the surrounding area and crept toward the woods. There could be more of them out there, and he’d kill them all to prevent them from following Dusti.
It alarmed him that Kraven hadn’t arrived on the scene. It was possible his brother had already crossed the river with Bat. The wide flow of water might muffle sounds of the attack from the other side.
The other alternative could be that they’d taken his brother by surprise.
Rage surfaced fast but then he calmed. Decker’s enforcer wouldn’t have attacked him if they already had what they wanted. Kraven also wasn’t one to allow anyone to sneak up on him. He was an excellent fighter.
He scanned the area again, still wondering if more enforcers would arrive. Long seconds passed. No one else came at him.
Drantos entered the woods to peer around but didn’t find any immediate threat. He returned to the clearing and stared down at the dead enforcer. He couldn’t leave him there. A hunter could come across the body. Not too many humans lived in the area but there were a few. It was also too close to the river. Some humans traveled along it. They might spot the downed man. It left him feeling torn between desire and duty. He wanted to go after Dusti but law demanded he take care of the evidence. Humans couldn’t learn of their existence.
He used his claws, digging into the earth. He’d bury Decker’s enforcer and send others back later to return the fallen man to his surviving family members. It was the best he could do. Even an enemy deserved a decent burial given by his loved ones, even if he had made a bad decision that had gotten him killed. He was part of the clans.
It took Drantos time but he finally shoved the male inside the shallow grave, covered him up with dirt and heavy rocks so wildlife wouldn’t dig him up to eat.
He walked into the river and submerged his entire body, scrubbing the blood and dirt from his skin. He returned to the embankment and retrieved his clothing. That’s when he realized his jacket had been destroyed. Claws had torn through the material during the fight. And another problem became known—Dusti’s shots hadn’t survived. They had probably rolled over them in battle, breaking the thin syringes. The liquid from them had seeped into the material of his jacket and the ground under it.#p#分页标题#e#
“Fuck.” He blew out a frustrated breath. He’d find her and make sure she was okay, then worry about the rest later.
He bundled his remaining clothing and boots, hooking them onto the highest point of a branch on his makeshift raft. He’d hopefully at least keep his things dry by pushing the damn thing across the river. He just wished Dusti were on it, too, warm, dry, and safe.
A snarl built up inside his throat. He needed to find her, and was outraged that she wasn’t at his side where she belonged. He’d kill Decker Filmore with his bare hands if Dusti died because that jackass wanted to use his own flesh and blood to start a war.
Chapter Seven
“I’m so screwed,” Dusti whispered, staring at pure blackness around her. The sun had gone down while she’d slept. The woods were unusually quiet with the exception of the breeze stirring leaves.