like the animal was on top of them.
She froze, looking wildly all around her, expecting to see a lycan bounding out of the trees at them. She saw nothing, but in the distance, she heard a thrashing sound, like something tearing through the brush.
“Run,” she gasped, pulling Aimee along. Just as in her vision, she ran, her feet pumping hard through the snow, the moisture soaking her jeans up to the knees.
Aimee tripped and Darby swung her up into her arms. Heedless of the extra weight, she ran, her legs burning from the strain. Her lungs ached, ready to explode from her chest.
The thrashing sounds intensified, were all around them now. She saw it then, a flash of eyes through the trees along the road. Icy silver and surrounded by the blackest of fur. They trailed her, toying with her.
The howls congested the air now. The forest was alive with the sounds of them—predators. The beating of their feet. The harsh crash of their breaths. Just as in her vision.
She swallowed thickly and stopped, dropping against a tree along the roadside. The snow-covered bark chafed her back. Aimee’s warm breath fanned her throat, a bittersweet reminder of why she had to live. Her survival was for both of them. Aimee didn’t lift her head, didn’t look, didn’t speak. Her thin arms clung so tightly Darby could scarcely draw breath.
She held herself still—quiet—her gaze darting around, plotting her next move, wondering if they should just find a spot and hide until daybreak.
Too late—the lycans emerged from the trees, all five of them. Apparently the two in the house had woken. They were varying shades of brown, gray and black. All bloodstained and grisly. Enormous, with slavering teeth that dripped gore from their recent kill. She wanted to look away but dared not.
They crossed the road in a slow, stalking pace, fanning out in a wide semicircle before her. Their great hulking shapes were covered in matted fur. But even the fur did not hide the sinew rippling beneath.
“Hey, remember me?” Darby fumbled for her necklace, holding it out by the chain, letting the charms dangle. “You wanted to keep me around, remember? I’m useful.”
At the sound of her voice, Aimee started to lift her head to investigate. Darby pushed it back down ungently.
She scanned the five creatures, trying to gauge which one was the alpha, Cyprian—the one she knew to direct her plea to. For some reason, her attention centered on the black-furred one. Not the largest, but the others seemed to walk in his shadow. He led the pack and stopped a few feet in front of Darby.
She dangled the necklace, her voice a terrible quiver and reed thin on the air. “Remember me? You want to keep me around.”
The lycan’s great jaws peeled back to reveal his yellow-stained teeth. Faint rivulets of pink, diluted blood traced his teeth and lined his gums. He released a low growl.
Running would be useless. For one fleeting moment, she considered doing that ultimate thing—the one thing she vowed never to do. Summoning a demon to aid her.
The question she asked herself was what she valued more—her soul or her life? Which was she willing to sacrifice? She knew that answer. She’d always known that answer.
With conviction burning in her heart, she pressed her lips tightly together, silencing herself should she feel tempted to utter the words, to shout out for a demon’s aid in a moment of pain or distress.
The alpha stretched his neck so that his face was close … close enough that she smelled the sourness of his breath, felt the heat of it fanning her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face, waiting, hoping it wouldn’t hurt, hoping he ended it quickly, that there would be no suffering—especially for Aimee.
The pain never came.
A shot exploded on the air. And then another.
Darby’s eyes flung wide open. The black-furred lycan no longer stood before her. He was gone. A blurry ink spot on the white landscape.
She whipped her gaze around and spotted a man holding a weapon. He was armed to the teeth, ammo strapped to his chest, and a gun in each hand. A knife glinted from a sheath at his waist and he wore multiple holsters. He was armed for battle. For lycans.
Her gaze took all this in with a sweep—before actually seeing him. The real him. The face of the man she knew. Niklas. Her heart leapt with instant hope. And something else strange and indefinable.