Huntress

Chapter 46

I watched the creature below move through the forest like black silk. It was clear that this creature was a favorite of the gods, quiet among the slush and fallen leaves. But the silent, graceful movement only made it more of a predator, one capable of destroying humanity itself. And it had started with my parents.

Filled with hate and other sticky, black emotions, I drew my bow. It was the beautiful recurve bow that I knew as well as I knew myself, as gorgeous to me as a piece of art, as reliable as a childhood best friend. I released the arrow without a fraction of hesitation. There was not even a whimper from the beast as the arrow imbedded itself in the side, under the thick black coat and into the lungs and heart. The silver would do any of the work that I hadn't.

I swung down from the tree with confidence, my backpack hoisted over my shoulder already. I didn't worry as I turned my back on the abomination. I had a silver knife in my pocket. And really, if the werewolf was alive, I wanted it to see me walk away, wanted to know that I had killed it and that I didn't care.

"Georgia," Ryder croaked.

And when I spun around, he was there, lying on the forest floor. With an arrow in his side. With blood dripping on his lips.

I screamed and ran to him.

"Georgia," he rasped again.

I was running, sprinting, pushing my body as hard as I could manage. The trees around me were nothing more than a blur. He always stayed the same distance away. I wailed his name. Tear poured down my cheeks. He was growing paler by the second, more blood on his lips, more seeping out of his side. He kept his gaze on me though, watching as I struggled to get to him. He repeated my name over and over again, getting weaker each time.

Then, he stilled. With my arrow in his body.

I jerked upright in my bed.

A dream. A nightmare. That's all it was. That's all it would ever be. But I couldn't stop myself from putting out a hand and placing it ever so softly on Ryder's bare chest. His snoring should have been enough of an indication that he was very much alive. But I only released a tense breath when I felt the steady thumping of his heart beneath my palm.

Then, I was clawing my way out of my bed, out of the hundreds of layers of blankets and pillows as if they were trying to suffocate me. my breaths did not come any easier when I was free though. Nor did they when I stumbling into the hallway, blindly fumbling for a light switch, or when I fell onto my ragged couch in the living room, staring at a distant street light through the window.

It was a dream. A wretched horror that my own mind had concocted.

But the tears rolling down my cheeks were very real. I pressed teeth down on my clenched fist to keep the chest-shaking sobs quiet. Because it could have been real. Maybe the mate bond would have been strong enough to stop me from releasing the arrow. Maybe it wouldn't have been. It could have been Milo assigned to the pack Ryder was stationed at. He wouldn't even have known that he killed the man I was supposed to be with.

I thought of how my mother would fall to her knees and shriek if anything happened to my father. I thought of what it would have been like to open the door and see a somber neighbor, a trusted friend, telling me that my mother was not coming home because someone had killed her. I felt ill when I considered having to move on without a brother in my life. Distant was one thing. Dead was another.

That was the reality that I had created for these wolves. That was the reality that I had been proud of, the one that the other hunters had celebrated with me. Huntress, the killer of werewolves.

If they hurt me, was I wrong to hurt them back?

It certainly felt wrong now with the sickness churning in my gut. How had it come to this? Just a few years ago, I felt this way about my parents. Lost and confused and wanting someone to hurt, wanting to fix all that had ever been wronged.

"Georgia?" Ryder murmured into the dark.

I sniffed hard then, dragging my fist from my mouth to wipe my tears furiously. "Yes?"

Obviously, it wasn't fast enough. Ryder gave out a little sigh before coming to sit beside me on the couch. I fell into his open arms immediately, still needing the comfort of his warm skin under my palm and his steady heartbeat beneath my ear. Alive. He was alive.

"What's going on?" he whispered into my hair.

"Nothing. Sometimes I just need a good cry at five in the morning," I lied.

"George," he pressed. "Tell me what's going on."

As he placed his hand on my cheek, I caught a glimpse of a fine, pink scar that wound his wrist. It was the scar he had gotten from fighting Ajax when Hades had come to deliver his verdict. All of the tears resurfaced immediately.

In a very small voice, I said, "I don't know if I have done the right thing."

A kind person might have told me that everything would be alright in the end, because everything was always alright.

Ryder just squeezed my waist. "If this wolf drain is real, I don't know if there will be any right or wrong."

He held me in silence until the sun began to shine over the horizon. Sometimes, he would smooth a hand down my back when a shuddering breath ripped through me. Sometimes I would stroke his hair or press into his warmth just to remind myself that he was indeed still here with me. Despite the fear and uncertainty rattling me, this was a quiet bubble of calm. I was safe here.

Until Ryder said, "We need to go meet Milo soon."

And just like that, the lines had been drawn between us once more.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What would your dream road trip be like?

I would love to go on a long trip driving through the states to find mountain bikes and theme parks. I have lived out of my minivan for a few week vacations and I think I could do it again.