Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,135

he brought it to his shoulder, his eye finding the scope as Raife Hastings descended from above in a controlled fall.

* * *

Raife flew down the rock face, his feet finding just enough purchase to direct his movement as he hurled himself toward his sister’s killer.

He felt the arrow take him in the right shoulder. Its broad head pierced tissue and penetrated bone, his right arm immediately incapacitated. His target struggled to get to his feet, fumbling with a second bolt from his quiver. Raife’s left foot found a solid stone, planted firmly, and launched him into his antagonist, sending both of them over the edge of the precipice.

CHAPTER 83

FIFTEEN FEET TO THE right and they would have both been killed on the jagged rocks. Instead, they went over the edge onto a scree slope just shy of vertical. Raife felt Aleksandr take the brunt of the first hit as his body connected with a protruding rock, sending them careening toward the sea. Raife’s face made contact with the earth and he momentarily lost consciousness, his frame briefly becoming a rag doll. He came to as his already-disabled arm shattered against a rock just before he splashed into the knee-deep surf, his leg twisting into an unnatural position with an audible snap.

Before the frigid water could completely take his breath away, Raife pushed himself to a sitting position. Gasping for air and attempting to take stock of his injuries, he wondered what happened to Aleksandr.

* * *

“Looks like a compound fracture,” a voice in heavily accented Russian said above the cacophony of the surf. “You of all people know that injuries like that almost certainly lead to death in this country. Look around you. No hospital for thousands of miles.”

The waves surged in across the rocky beach, and Raife used the one arm that worked to keep his head above the icy froth.

“You were indeed a worthy adversary. Very similar to your sister. She died right here, just up the beach on those rocks. The stupid whore jumped to her death. Killed one of my dogs, with a bone of all things, and then took the other one with her. I never even got a shot off. The pursuit was thrilling, though. So much better than the savages we import for sport. With you, S. Rainsford, I did get a shot off. How’s the shoulder? I’m about to get another shot off and add you to my collection.”

As he spoke, he used the crossbow’s versa-draw system to retract the string and cock the weapon. He then loaded a short arrow from the quiver into the rail and clicked it into position on the bowstring.

“I have bested the great SEAL and tracker, S. Rainsford. I am the supreme hunter!”

“You’re no hunter. You’re nothing but a killer, a sick, demented killer,” Raife spat.

Anger flashed in Zharkov’s eyes.

“Your friends are all dead by now. No one is coming. Sit up, so I can kill you like a man.”

Raife struggled to bring his broken leg under him and get in a sitting position. He was going to face his death head-on. He admired the beauty of the coastline, the rocks and gravel beneath him, the arctic water rushing past. The sounds, the birds, the cliff, reminded him of Kodiak, and he remembered that this was exactly the reason the SEAL training facility had been built there; to mimic these conditions.

“Just remember to watch your back.”

“What?”

“Someone is coming for you. Someone who will not stop until he pulls your beating heart from your chest and shows it to you. You are about to find out what it’s like to be hunted.”

Aleksandr put the crossbow to his shoulder and took aim. In all likelihood the bolt would go right through Raife at this distance, taking out both lungs and the heart; he wanted to preserve the head for his collection. The imperialist Navy SEAL and world-renowned hunter would be his most prized trophy.

“You’ll be with your sister in a few seconds. Be sure and tell that bitch I said ‘fuck you’ for killing my dogs. Her head does make an attractive trophy, though.”

What was wrong? Aleksandr willed his finger to pull the trigger, but nothing was happening. He tried again, confused. His breathing was heavy, and his head felt like someone was slowing turning down the dimming switch of a lightbulb. He sank to his knees on the gravel beach in front of his quarry, his crossbow falling from his grasp. He looked down to see