The Midnight Foxxx

Chapter 10

VIXEN

Blood rushes through my ears as my heart races, beating a mile a minute. The severed hand sitting in my lap is oozing red liquid, soaking my pants with the uncomfortable lingering warmth. The daze I'm in finally breaks and slap a hand over my mouth to stop a scream. I toss the severed appendage off my lap, and it lands on the soft earth with an unpleasant thud.

Shit. What the f**k did I do?

There's no time to analyze though; the smell of wolves is getting stronger. After mapping out Bishop's patrol route, this seems to be the northern most section of their territory. If I keep heading north, I could camp out just outside the boundary. Before taking off, I look over at the severed hand, contemplating taking or leaving it. Images flash through my mind.

A dark room. Quiet whimpers. Slurred pleas to stop. Soft whispers telling me to hush and relax. A hand roughly covering my mouth. A slap. A punch. Pain.

Anger flares inside me. I grab the asshole's hand and hold it up to a tree. With a snarl, a knife pierces through the palm, nailing to the thick trunk.

"Disgusting piece of s**t," I growl lowly before turning away and start towards the boundary. Being on the ground feels risky, but I don't dare use teleport and expend more magic than necessary. Keeping up the concealment charm is a top priority. The last thing I need is to be found. I've already f****d up and alerted every damn shifter in the pack.

Seeing Wilder Bishop's face triggered a flood of hazy memories to resurface and something snapped. Stealth was abandoned in favor of an all-out barrage, throwing everything I had at him. Knives and axes cut and sliced deep into his skin. When the blades ran out, I switched to brass knuckles and beat him mercilessly. The only reason I stopped was the fast approach of his pack mates. Not enough damage was dealt to kill him and I didn't want him to be able to hurt anyone else the way he hurt me, so I cut off his hand.

Pulling back the sleeve of my jacket revels a bruised wrist. Before tonight, I hadn't thought much of them. It's not unusual for customers to get a little rough, though the bruise on my cheek was out of the ordinary. Now I know where it came from and why Brax looked like he wanted to kill the asshole himself. The asshole wasn't just rough, but actually beat me. I shudder at the vague memory.

A sharp pungent scent assaults my nose, knocking me out of my thoughts. It smells like cedar and tonka, with an undertone of musk. It's intoxicating and have to stop myself from inhaling it like a damn drug. It's getting stronger by the second, which means whoever's behind it is getting closer, and fast. I pull my hood up over my head and duck behind some bushes. The forest is unsettlingly quiet. There were no owls or frogs, just silence and a delicious scent.

I sit and wait until the sound of heavy foot falls can be heard. My heart starts to beat faster and try to keep my breathing low and even. As the footsteps get closer, it becomes clear whoever it is isn't on two feet, but four. Suddenly, a massive flash of fur runs past me, and just barely catch a glimpse of the largest wolf I have ever seen. It's fur, a rich deep black in the undercoat that gradients into varying shades of brown on the out layers. Black highlights the muzzle, feet and tail, which contrasts with the light streak of cream on the belly. It's the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, despite its sheer size, freezing me in place out of fear.

The wolf abruptly stops a short distance away from me and my breath hitches. A deep guttural growl rattles my ribcage and I begin to panic. He must have seen me. Taking a deep breath, I chance a peek through the leaves and bramble and am relieved to see his back to me, only to immediately pale when I see what it's looking at. The severed hand.

Well s**t. They weren't supposed to find that so soon.

The massive wolf throws its head back into an ear-splitting howl. My hands fly up to my ears to shield them, but the sound still breaks through, piercing my eardrums. Shrill ringing fills my ears, drowning out all other noise. I clench my jaw and resist the urge to scream. When the ringing finally stops, I open my eyes and my stomach drops. Five wolves are standing less than fifty feet away from me. My heart is beating so fast and loud I'm scared they'll be able to hear it. I don't dare move or even breathe.

The massive wolf, who I can only assume must be the alpha, shifts into his human form, which is just as astonishingly big. His broad back ripples with muscle and tapers nicely into a slim waist. Powerful biceps are decorated in tribal half sleeves that bulge with every flex and movement. The alpha approaches the large tree and removes the severed appendage. He studies the knife that had been pinning the hand to the rough bark, turning it over in his hand as if looking for answers.

“Find whoever the f**k did this,” The alpha’s voice is a deep baritone and has an underlying growl. The force of the authority hits me like a truck and have to resist the instinctual urge to submit to the dominant aura. The other wolves whine in response before taking off in different directions. He stands there for a long time, unmoving, fraying my nerves by the second. When he finally turns around, I’m met with a ruggedly handsome face; sharp green eyes, a strong jawline accentuated by a well-groomed beard and prominent cheekbones. His massive chest is corded with muscle and heaves as he breathes heavily in what I can only assume is anger.

His body ripples as he shifts into wolf form. The hand is picked up in large jaws with surprising gentleness before continuing on in his original direction. With the area now vacated of all threats, I start looking for a safer hiding spot. Unsure where all the shifters currently are or when they may come back, I don't want to move around too much and risk being caught. After a quick survey of the area, I notice a large tree a few meters away that looks to have decent cover in its canopy and sturdy enough branches to hold my weight.

It takes a lot of effort, but I eventually pull myself high enough into the foliage that it should shield me from being seen. My arms and legs ache from the climb and the rough bark scrapes against my skin uncomfortably. I remove my belt and strap it around my torso and the branch I’m settled on, tightening it, so I won’t easily fall in my sleep. Not that I plan on getting much sleep, but still try to get comfortable and hunker down for the night. My stomach starts to growl as hunger pains set in. I pull out the single protein bar Brax was able to sneak to me before I left and take a single bite. It gets slipped back into my pocket and I chew slowly, trying to make it last.

The familiar smell of cedar and tonka wakes me from my light sleep. Peering down to the forest floor, I see the alpha wolf carrying Wilder Bishop on its back. A growl is swallowed back and glare at the injured red head. His body lay limp, swaying with the alpha’s every step. His stump is wrapped in cloth and gauze that has already been soaked through with blood.

His eyes open abruptly, and suddenly I’m looking into hazel eyes. They’re glassy and dazed, and I am certain he can’t actually see me until he smiles.

“So pretty,” he rasps. I shiver at his words, the same words he had whispered into my ear while he violated me after beating me until I bruised. My stomach churns at the unpleasant memory and swallow back the urge to throw up. His smile grows cruel before closing his eyes again.