KING : Children of Wolves Book 1 - MC Romance Series | Dark Romance

Chapter Ten - Serafina

My cell phone is still at the Black Garter, the nightclub my dad owns. I don't have Papa's number memorized anymore, but I do know the number to the club. If I can flag down a car, maybe I can call and get the message to him. I don't see any houses around and I don't think my ankle will support me walking that far. I can't even move it.

Taking a moment to absorb the pain that's washing over me, I squeeze my eyes shut. My breaths are ragged and I realize that I'm making so much noise. Fuck. My ankles are ruined.

Something brushes over my leg... no, crawls over my leg and my body jolts. What the fuck was that? Tiny legs hit the top of my thigh and I kick wildly on impulse.

My hands shake, quickly brushing whatever is on me away. An owl hoots in the distance and I hear a twig snap. The high of my escape has quickly worn off and that feeling has been replaced by molten fear. Wild animals are out here. I can hear them. Bugs are crawling on me. I can feel them.

Whimpering, I try to get them off, but I can't tell what's real and what's my imagination. Another twig snaps and I remember that there are big cats that live in the wild. That thing I said earlier, about dying in the Florida wilderness? It doesn't seem so glamorous now. In fact, it sounds terrifying.

Tears start streaming down my cheeks when I picture myself dying among these trees. Mama once told me that all of your problems seem worse at night and sitting here in the dark, every problem I could have flows through my mind. Scenarios escalate quickly, my nightmares climbing on the backs of each other until they're front and center in my brain.

My mind flashes to Papa. If I die out here, he may never know what happened to me. He's stoic. He didn't cry when Mama went missing; I shed enough secret tears for both of us, though. But would he cry for me if I was gone? Would he cry if all they found in these woods was my skull?

"Fuck," I whimper and try to stand. I hiss in a breath and I'm practically a flamingo because I've only got one decent leg.

There's a piercing scream and I feel claws digging into me. The scream sounds foreign, but quickly I realize I'm the one who made that sound. And the claws that dig into my arms aren't from a jaguar, they're the fingers of the man I'm fleeing from. The man who smells like hemp and hatred. The man who, for a split second, I'm happy to see because maybe I won't actually be dying in these woods alone tonight.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he snarls, snapping my body to his. My leg comes down on instinct, and suddenly I'm clutching his shirt and trying to balance myself.

Writhing in pain, my body molds against his and hot tears instantly spring to my eyes. "My ankle," I whimper, twisting in his arms.

I can't see him. It's too dark and because he's a villain, he's still dressed in all black, making him even harder to see. He puts both hands at the base of my skull and for a moment I expect him to twist. His hands are big, with long, thin fingers that could make quick work of snapping my neck.

That wouldn't have surprised me. But what he does instead does. With one hand gripping the back of my neck, in a swift motion he bends to lace his other arm behind my knees. Sweeping me up, he carries me, bringing us out of the woods.

I bury my head in his chest. Neither of us says a word, and he walks us all the way back to the house.