Fated Magic (Claimed by Wolves #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,68
wildly, yanking my wrists out of his hand. He reaches for me again, brandishing the knife, but I lean into his legs and nail him in the junk with an elbow.
Clint yowls, falling sideways and dropping the knife in the process. As he hits the concrete, I roll over onto my knees and start crawling away, moving at a snail’s pace thanks to my duct taped hands.
He recuperates too fast. One meaty fist reaches into my hair and drags me back toward him.
But I won’t go down without a fight. I will shred him to pieces with every last breath in my body, even if I still die in the end.
I refuse to cower in fear anymore.
Suddenly, a chorus of howls reach my ears. My stomach flips over at the haunting noise, and relief surges through me in a rush. There’s no other sound in the world right now that could bring me so much joy.
“What the fuck…”
Clint mutters a curse under his breath. He still has me by the hair, and I’m on my knees clutching the hem of his shirt to try to take some of the pressure off my scalp. I can’t see his face from my vantage point, but I wish I could.
I wish I could see his expression when four massive wolves burst into his basement.
My shifter companions are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen as they hurtle down the stairs and across the cement floor. They look magnificent and predatory, their teeth bared and their sights set on my uncle.
Clint lets go of my hair with an almost feminine shriek, and I collapse onto the concrete. I take the full force of my weight with my shoulder, grunting from the pain. My scalp is on fire from the way he slung me around, which probably means I lost a good chunk of hair. But I’ll take a few bald spots if it means I walk out of this alive.
Before Clint can reach for me again, I barrel roll away from him. The wolves are charging toward him with jaws snapping, and I don’t want to get in their way as they leap for him. My legs flail and my arms gain some new bruises as I roll across the floor, everything spinning in my vision.
A gunshot ricochets through the basement, and my heart crashes against my ribs as I come to a stop against the workbench.
Fuck. He’s shooting at them.
The shifters are powerful, but they’re not invincible. He could kill them if he gets in a good shot.
Scrambling to my knees, I watch as Ridge’s light brown wolf latches onto Clint’s arm. Clint cries out, his fingers jolting from the pain, and the gun slips from his grasp. Archer darts in to bat it away, while Dare and Trystan lunge to take the old man down.
Clint is undeterred. He tears away from Ridge’s teeth, taking a hunk of skin out of his arm in the process, and then stumbles away. Black-furred Dare manages to grab Clint’s blue jeans and take him to the floor, but Clint draws his knife and swipes out, making all four wolves dart away.
He gets back to his feet and kicks out wildly, catching Ridge in the face. He shoves at the growling, snapping wolves one more time before rushing across the basement toward the empty room where he used to keep me for “time out.” He manages to slide into the small, narrow stone room and jam the door shut.
My wolf companions throw themselves at the door. They’re monstrous, nothing but strength and muscle, and I think if given the time, they’d crack the heavy door down like it was made of plaster.
But they aren’t given a chance.
A moment after Clint walls up inside, a siren wails in the distance, and even I can tell it’s steadily drawing closer.
“The cops are coming!” I shout, struggling against the duct tape on my wrists. “We have to get out of here. They’re all dirty and friends with Clint.”
Not to mention, any cop—dirty or not—would be likely to shoot what they’d see as feral wolves.
Archer’s golden wolf falls away from the door and lopes to my side. Magic shimmers over him until he’s human again, and he quickly rips through the duct tape to free my hands. His handsome, boy-next-door face is pained as he helps me to my feet.
“Did he hurt you?” He cups my cheeks, green eyes searching my face.