7
600 Words
Raven’s POV
The smell hits me before the sight does. Smoke. Old and bitter and wrong. It crawls into my lungs and wakes up every dead thing inside me. My steps slow even though my mind is screaming at me to run. I already know what I will find. My body just isn’t ready to accept it yet.
It’s gone.
Not broken. Not damaged. Gone.
The place where I hid. The place where I pretended I was still alive. All of it wiped clean like I never mattered. My chest tightens and for a second I can’t breathe. I bend forward and clutch my stomach like that will keep everything from spilling out.
This is my fault.
I brought the war to my own door.
My knees hit the ground before I realize I am falling. Ash smears my palms. The smell grows stronger and suddenly I am not here anymore.
I am back on the mountain.
Fire everywhere. Scent of blood. My brother’s scream was cut short. My mother’s eyes are wide as the world ends around her. The Ironfang mark burned into metal and skin and memory. My hands were shaking as I hid under bodies that were still warm. I remember the weight of death on my chest. I remember promising I would make them all pay.
I press my forehead to the ground and gasp. “Not again,” I whisper. “Not again.”
My wolf curls into herself inside me. She is whimpering now. Not angry. Not hungry. Just hurt.
They took everything I rebuilt.
Good.
It means the war is real now.
I stand on shaking legs and wipe my hands on my jeans even though it does nothing. My chest aches but it is a dull ache now, heavy and steady. Grief is turning into something familiar. Something sharp.
Vengeance.
I will not hide again. I will not rebuild again. I am done running in circles through ash and bones.
They want me exposed. They’ve got it.
Behind my anger is a quiet awareness that makes my skin crawl. I am not alone. I don’t turn. I don’t need to. The bond hums low. Watching. Waiting.
He is here.
Not close enough to touch. Close enough to feel.
Part of me wants to spit his name. Part of me wants to collapse into the safety my body is convinced he is. I hate both parts equally.
You did this, I think at him though I know he can’t hear my thoughts. You brought the storm to me.
But the bond answers back with something softer. Something that feels like guilt. Like worry. Like him standing there not knowing if he is allowed to come closer.
Good. Let him feel it.
I straighten my shoulders and take my phone from my pocket with hands that no longer shake. I make the calls I swore I wouldn’t make again. Old contacts. Dangerous ones. People who still owe me blood and favors.
The Ironfangs are moving a shipment and I will be there.
I will break it. I will turn them on their own. I will carve Cole’s name into their mouths if that’s what it takes to make them tear him apart.
The bond pulses in protest at the thought. I shove it down. Hard.
I don’t look back when I walk away from the ruins.
I don’t need to see him watching to know he is.
Let him watch.
Let him feel every step I take toward his destruction.
Because if he wants to walk with me, he will walk straight into hell.
- Writer
