Chapter 3 - A Rogue's Mercy
1901 Words
Raven had no idea how long she had been lying in the dirt.
The forest had swallowed the sounds of Roman, Vance and Cameron, leaving only the rustle of leaves overhead and the uneven rasp of her breathing. Her body felt unbearably heavy against the cold ground. Every breath scraped through her bruised throat, while pain radiated from her temple across her cheek and through the places where their fists had struck her.
Trying to move her hand proved almost impossible. Her fingers barely responded before falling limp against the soil.
The poison had taken almost everything she had left.
Blood continued to seep from the wound across her forehead, trailing down her cheek and disappearing into her hair. Her throat burned where Roman's fingers had crushed the air from her lungs, while her ribs protested whenever she attempted a deeper breath.
Raven reached for her wolf.
Please.
She needed her.
The familiar presence that had always answered her, fierce and stubborn beneath her skin, felt impossibly distant. Raven searched for that connection again, desperately trying to find something strong enough to pull her back from the darkness.
A faint stir answered before fading into silence.
Her heart clenched.
She was dying.
There was no escaping the truth anymore. Her heartbeat had become slow and irregular, with each breath requiring more effort than the one before it. Coldness had begun spreading through her hands and feet despite the warmth of the night.
Roman had known exactly what he was doing.
He had poisoned her before bringing her into the woods. He had weakened her wolf, brought three men against her and left her bleeding on the forest floor.
A bitter laugh escaped her.
The laugh turned into a painful cough that tore through her ribs and left her gasping.
“Of course,” she whispered.
Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears.
Raven had always imagined that if death ever found her, she would meet it fighting. In her mind, there had been a blade in her hand or her wolf at her side.
Never had she imagined dying because she trusted her mate.
That thought hurt more than anything Roman had done to her.
Closing her eyes brought memories drifting through her mind, each one sharper than she wanted.
The training grounds where she had spent years becoming stronger.
The packhouse where she had grown up.
The room she had once imagined sharing with Roman.
The future she had built in her head without ever questioning whether he wanted the same things.
Children had filled those imagined days. She had pictured standing beside him when he addressed the pack, raising their family and sharing the responsibilities that came with his position.
She had been ready to spend her life beside him.
He had decided her strength made her disposable.
A tear escaped before she could stop it.
Raven wiped it away with the back of her hand.
She refused to give him another piece of herself.
Then footsteps sounded through the forest.
Her eyes opened.
The noise came from deeper among the trees, slow and deliberate as someone approached through the darkness.
Her heart gave a weak, frightened beat.
Roman.
A bitter smile touched her lips.
“Couldn't stay away?”
Trying to push herself onto one elbow sent pain tearing through her side and forced her back down.
The footsteps continued.
Raven's fingers searched the ground until they found a stone.
It was small enough to fit in her palm, and she knew it would do little against an Alpha.
It was still better than having nothing.
“If you came back to finish me,” she whispered, “you're going to have to get close.”
The footsteps stopped.
A figure emerged between the trees.
Raven's breath caught.
It wasn't Roman.
The stranger stood several yards away, watching her.
Raven knew immediately that he was a rogue.
His scent carried none of the familiar traces of a pack. There was something wild about it, mixed with earth, smoke and pine. His clothes were dark and worn, chosen for surviving the forest rather than impressing anyone. Dark hair fell untidily across his forehead, and his expression held a quiet severity that made him difficult to read.
Then his eyes met hers.
They were an unusual shade of pale blue, almost silver beneath the moonlight.
Raven tightened her grip on the stone.
The stranger's gaze travelled over her.
Her torn clothing.
The bruises covering her body.
The blood running from her forehead.
The wound that had already begun swelling across her cheekbone.
He said nothing.
Raven raised the stone as far as her trembling arm allowed.
“Stay back.”
His gaze dropped to the weapon before returning to her face.
“You're dying.”
The bluntness of his words stirred irritation through her exhaustion.
“I noticed.”
He crouched several feet away.
“You need help.”
“I don't need anything from you.”
The rogue studied her without reacting to the hostility in her voice.
Raven tried to drag herself backward, but her arms gave way beneath her.
Pain shot through her ribs, and a sharp breath escaped.
The stranger's expression changed.
His eyes sharpened as he watched her struggle.
“Who did this?”
Raven looked away.
“Go away.”
“You won't survive the night.”
She hated hearing the words spoken aloud.
“I know.”
The rogue remained silent for several seconds.
“Then why are you still fighting?”
Raven looked back at him.
“Because I don't want to die.”
Her voice cracked.
She swallowed and forced herself to continue.
“I just don't want them to be the last people I see.”
Something shifted in his expression.
He rose and took a step toward her.
Raven raised the stone again.
“Don't come closer.”
He stopped.
Her hand was shaking so badly that she could barely hold the stone.
“If you touch me, I'll use this.”
His gaze settled on her hand.
“You can barely hold it.”
“I can still throw it.”
“You'd miss.”
Anger flashed through her.
“You don't know me.”
“I know you're losing blood.”
His eyes moved toward the wound on her forehead.
“I know the poison has weakened your wolf.”
Raven's stomach tightened.
“You know what the poison is?”
“I know enough to recognize it.”
The answer made her wary.
“How?”
He didn't respond.
Instead, his attention shifted toward her face as her eyelids began to droop.
“Stay awake.”
Raven forced her eyes open.
“I am awake.”
“Barely.”
An argument formed in her mind, but exhaustion swallowed the words before they reached her lips.
Her head dropped against the ground.
The stone slipped from her fingers.
The rogue moved immediately.
Raven heard him approaching, but she could no longer gather enough strength to move away.
He crouched beside her.
His hand moved toward her shoulder.
Raven flinched.
He stopped.
For a moment, they simply looked at each other.
His pale blue eyes held hers.
Raven expected pity.
Instead, she saw something else.
His expression remained controlled, but tension had settled around his jaw and hardened his gaze.
He was angry.
She couldn't tell whether the anger was directed at her attackers or at the situation itself.
“Can you stand?”
Raven almost laughed.
“No.”
“Can you walk?”
“No.”
He nodded once.
“Then I'm carrying you.”
“You're not.”
“You're dying.”
Raven stared at him.
“I know.”
“Then stop wasting your strength arguing with me.”
She wanted to be offended.
Instead, his bluntness made something inside her ease.
He wasn't promising that everything would be fine. He wasn't telling her there was nothing to fear. He had looked at her injuries and understood how close death had come.
The rogue reached toward her again.
Raven flinched.
“I won't hurt you.”
Her eyes hardened.
“I've heard that before.”
Something changed in his face.
He lowered his hand.
“Then you can choose.”
Raven watched him carefully.
“You can stay here and die, or you can let me take you somewhere safe and see whether I can keep you alive.”
The words were simple, but the decision remained hers.
Raven looked around the forest.
Darkness seemed to press closer with every passing second. Her fingers had become numb, and her breathing had grown shallow. She could feel herself slipping away.
She didn't know this man.
She didn't know where he lived or what he wanted.
She only knew that remaining where she was meant death.
“Fine.”
The rogue slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back.
Pain exploded through Raven when he lifted her.
A cry escaped as her body tensed, and her fingers instinctively grabbed the front of his shirt.
He immediately adjusted his hold, careful of her ribs and the injured side of her face.
Raven's head rested against his chest.
His heartbeat sounded beneath her ear.
Steady.
Strong.
The contrast with her own frightened, uneven rhythm made her realize how close she had come to losing consciousness.
For the first time since Roman attacked her, someone was holding her without trying to cause her pain.
The realization brought a wave of emotion she couldn't quite name.
She swallowed.
“What is your name?”
The man glanced down at her.
“Silas.”
Raven repeated it softly.
“Silas.”
His gaze returned to the path ahead.
“And yours?”
She hesitated.
Her eyes were becoming heavy again.
“Raven.”
Silas adjusted his grip and began walking.
Each step sent another pulse of pain through Raven's battered body, but she forced herself to remain conscious. The movement made her ribs ache and her injured face throb, yet the steady warmth of his body gave her something to focus on.
After several moments, her breathing grew shallow.
“Raven.”
His voice pulled her back.
“I heard you.”
“Stay awake.”
The answer caught somewhere in her throat.
Above them, the trees blurred into dark shapes against the night sky. Her body was growing colder, while the darkness pressing against her mind became harder to resist.
Silas quickened his pace.
“Raven.”
His voice sounded closer this time, firm enough to cut through the haze.
She focused on it.
On the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her cheek.
On the strength of his arms keeping her securely against him.
On the fact that someone was carrying her away from the place where Roman had left her to die.
Raven didn't know where Silas was taking her. She didn't know what waited beyond the trees or whether the stranger carrying her would be able to save her.
For all she knew, her eyes might never open again.
Yet Silas had given her a choice.
Stay and die, or fight for another chance.
Raven had chosen to fight.
So, with the last of her strength, she held on to the sound of his voice and the steady beat beneath her ear as the rogue carried her deeper into the forest.
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