by T. A. Grey
* * * * *
Her throat burned as if she’d been puffing away at a cigarette. Hanna had never smoked. Breaths tore out from her lungs, burning away a layer of skin from her tongue with each breath. This is how she imagined it felt pulling that acrid smoke deep into your lungs. It burned like hell.
Hanna was in deep trouble.
No time to think. No time to consider her options. She was frantic, panicked, utterly scared. And because of that, she was erratic.
They were deep in the woods. Too far.
Remi chased after her, closing in behind her. Her skin twitched, the fine hairs along the back of her neck standing on end like sharp blades of grass. The way his eyes had glazed over... she shivered at the thought. She needed to get out of here.
And there she was stampeding through the forest in platforms and a white floral-patterned dress and her date was chasing her will ill intent.
She headed east, which had seemed like the route to lead her back to a road, a highway, anything. But unlike the MacKellen pack, the Gerioux land had acres of space with nothing built for great distances. Nothing but the savage wilderness of natural life. It was so dark. The canopy of trees blocking out what little moonlight there was.
All she heard was the quick sounds of her feet, the raging sound of her heart. The offensive scent of her own fear enveloped her.
A roar of sound before her startled her and she tripped. Face smashing into muddy earth smearing across her cheek and mouth.
“HANNA!” Remi roared, wild and dangerous.
Don’t think about him.
He sounded so close. As if he was mere inches behind her, she could hear him coming after her. God, he was fast. She kept going.
Hanna flew over foliage, stomping it into the earth. Her hair whipped past her in flight. She just needed to get away. She could do it.
She could do it.
She could...
Her mantra died as something sharp snapped against her skull with a wet whack. Hanna cried out moments before he slammed into her. A solid body taking her to the ground. The wind knocked out of her lungs in a harsh swoop.
“Hnnng.” She struggled to breathe. All that came was a wheezing gasp of air. Hardly enough to sustain her chaotic breaths.
She tried again. Meanwhile, Remi panted above her.
“Stupid fucking bitch. God dammit! Why’d you make me run like that?” He was angry, viscously tugging her wrists together. He tried tying rope around them. Hanna’s eyes shot wide with fear as a part of her brain seemed to reboot. It remembered exactly where she was, why she was running, and all those moments of training these past few weeks seemed to come into place all at once.
It was almost as if she was having an out of body experience. Hanna shrieked--but this time not out of fear. The sound was that of a battle shout. A war cry meant to instill fear in the hearts of enemies, to produce dread in their guts. The hands on her frozen as she belted out her cry.
Then she spun around knocking him off her. She didn’t waste another moment. She flew on top of him without thought. When her fist connected with his face, not once, but twelve times. A dozen vicious, shouting strikes. She didn’t know where she was anymore. She simply knew she didn’t want to die in this man’s hands.
But then someone was grabbing her from behind.
“No!” She screamed, kicking and lurching against the intruder.
From out of pandemonium, she heard the voice of the person speaking to her. Slowly, bit by bit, she stopped struggling and she listened. And she recognized.
“Shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m here to help, Hanna. I’m here to help you.”
What had begun as a reverse bear hug changed into something else. Hanna turned around and peered up into Alex Thompson’s face. She shook her head in confusion. Surely she must be dead right now and Remi truly had killed her. Because why else would Alex be here? Now?
Tears came to her eyes as she looked into his familiar gaze. He made her feel safe and protected. Like she was back home, safely tucked away in bed. Warm and happy.
“Alex?” Her voice warbled.
“Yeah?” He paused, rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He looked a touch freaked but he was maintain a level of severity she’d never quite seen in him before. “What did he do to you?” he asked slowly.
A fine tremble shook her down to her very bones where she felt icy cold. Unable to get warm.
“H-h-h-he,” her voice wouldn’t stop shaking. Her teeth started to chatter. Her body crashing rapidly from the adrenaline rush. “A-A-Alex?” She was so scared, and here he was. Someone to save her. She’d never been so thankful to see someone in all her life.
He cursed softly, then pulled her into his arms. Who knew his hug could warm the coldness in her bones. She wouldn’t have guessed. She’d never been hugged by Alex. There’d shared that brief, spontaneous kiss before, but they’d never actually done anything intimate together. But this hug felt far more personal that their kiss ever did. Chests pressed together, hearts touching, arms embraced in safety and warmth. She nearly broke down and cried.
Neither of them heard movement. Too wrapped up in the excitement of the moment, neither heard him stand, until a metal snick sounded. A pistol being cocked. Hanna and Alex’s head turned in unison. Her eyes, wide and scared, Alex’s sharp and angry.
Remi stood with his feet planted deep into the ground and his hands pointing that gun clear at her face.
He would blow her face off. Kill her. In a second. Today she’d die. This is it. How she’d go. Her family would mourn her, then move on. Rapidly these thoughts ran through her head.
“Who the fuck are you?” Remi raised the gun to Alex’s face. In a split second, everything changed, and it was Alex’s family mourning his death tonight.
Blood covered Remi’s face in smears from where Hanna had pummeled him in her defensive rage. His nose was swollen and bloody, his lip busted in two parts. When he spoke, you could hear a nasally sound which hadn’t been there previously.
“You have a death wish,” Alex said. His voice was filled with seething anger, barely contained. His shoulders looked massive in the night, his big hands clenched into red fists. With each laboring breath he took, his large chest expanded. Alex said his statement as fact.
Remi snarled and shoved his gun in the air firing off a round. The blast of sound made Hanna jump at the spontaneous explosion. “Bitch! I will fuck you up! You’re on my land now!”
“Fuck this...” Alex’s strange utterance caught Hanna by surprise. Remi too, because he didn’t move fast enough. Although, considering just how quickly Alex struck out, his left jab catching Remi clear in the nose, Remi wouldn’t have been able to get out of the way fast enough. Bone cracked like a clearly stalk snapped in half. The sound crunched with that of mushy flesh as a right-cross came, then another even more powerful blow.
Remi gurgled, his head snapping back with a sickening sound. On the last blow, he flew back, head knocking hard off a sharp boulder.
In seconds, deep, dark color, appearing black in the night, spilt along the rock. Hanna’s stomach dropped deeper than hell.
She knew without touching him.
“He’s dead.”
Alex did not look bothered in the least. Chest high, shoulders back and a snarl on his lips, he looked ready to continue throttling Remi if he so much as twitched. Unfortunately or not, that would not be happening again. He almost appeared smugly happy about it.
Damn. Hanna got her head together, shaking herself brusquely to snap out of the fog clouding her. She knelt down, hand to Remi’s throat desperately pushing through the blood on his neck trying to find that thudding pulse. Only to find nothing.
She looked up at Alex. “He’s dead, I think.”
“He hit his head on that rock.”
“What--- ”
Hanna never got to finish asking her question. Because bright flashing red-and-blue lights suddenly lit up around them. Voices shouting orders, people came charging at t
hem with weapons drawn.
“Down on your knees!” A man shouted. He had a French accent. Much like Remi did. “Get down on your fucking knees!”
Hanna went down, someone shoving her shoulder along the way. Alex too. They quickly took Alex’s gun and all other weapons.
They found Remi and gasps were heard around. “Remi Gerioux is dead!” people whispered.
Hanna’s stomach sank. She gulped and managed to meet Alex’s gaze. He smiled at her, not a big one; more like the sly grin you gave your little sister after doing something mischievous. She wanted to slap the irritating man. They’d just committed murder, now was not exactly the time to be playful.
“Who are you?”
Hanna looked up at the big man with the accent before her. She could feel their hateful eyes boring into her. Somehow she managed to answer her name without stuttering under the amount of guns pointed at her. “Hanna MacKellen.”
The man’s eyebrow rose at her name with recognition. Then he turned a sharp eye to Alex. “And who is this?”
Alex did not answer. The man suddenly let his palm fly, and he slapped Alex clear across the cheek. The sound ringing as some of his men laughed.
“Who are you?” the man asked, grabbing Alex’s chin turning his face up in a brutal grasp.
“Just tell him!” Hanna said. Alex sent her a look. One that said he had no worries. Well, she did. Many of them. And it all began with the dead body behind her.
The man slapped Alex again. Across the other cheek, hard enough to spin Alex’s head to the side. A feral growl emanated from Alex’s throat.
Hanna saw where this was going and blurted out, “Alex Thompson! His name is Alex!” The man stayed his hand, peering over at her once more.
“What happened here? We heard gunfire.”
They were lifting Remi up as gingerly as you might a baby. His head hung listlessly to the side at an unnatural angle. Hanna looked away. Somewhere in the clearing, a person was crying.
Hanna couldn’t believe this. She could not believe any of this. She must be stuck in some nightmare. Some bad dream and she wished she’d wake up from it.
“Never mind,” another guard said. They were from the Gerioux pack patrol. “Take them to the queen.”
A new wave of tension permeated the air at the mention of the queen. Hanna didn’t know much about her. Only that Remi was her precious nephew, having never born children herself. He was her only living relative, and he would have one day been kinged to the throne of Gerioux. If he wasn’t dead.
“Well, the queen isn’t going to like this...”
Hanna tended to agree. She didn’t think any of them were going to like what was about to happen.
Hanna stayed calm as she was handcuffed. She even remained calmed while the guard read her rights. “You have been found in violation of Gerioux Pack Law for the murder and death of Remi Gerioux. You will be taken to the queen and held in a court trial until you are deemed innocent or guilty of murder.”
Hanna locked eyes with Alex while the speech was read. They needn’t mess with the trial. They already knew she and Alex had killed Remi.
They were as good as guilty. And even deader because of it.
Chapter SEVEN
Upon witnessing the queen’s bodyguard Broderick stalking towards them, two guards outside the queen’s apartment bolted to open the heavy wooden doors. Behind Broderick trailed at least a dozen men, two of whom were murders of the royal family. Or so the whispers were saying. Tonight had taken a dark turn.
The throne room was opulent as a sultan’s palace. With rich colorful tapestries adorning the walls, candelabras and grand chandeliers hanging from a painted-domed ceiling. The long lunch tables were made of dark, old wood. Around the room were maiden servants, flouncing by an engineered water fountain in the middle of the room. The queen sat above them all. As she naturally was. By blood, nature, and training.
Beautiful in her splendor, sensual in her form, her bright red hair shone like polished copper in the candle light. Behind those sharp blue eyes were pitch-black pupils where hidden were the true depths of her inner soul.
“What is this?” A hiss of sound. The queen. Eyes narrowed, thin eyebrows dipped low into a snarling vee.
Ah, how Broderick admired her strength. Her loyalty was like no others.
Maidens scurried from the room. A woman screamed in terror at the sound of the queen’s menace. The queen’s eyes finally moved behind Broderick, to the entourage carrying her nephew, Remi. Her very beloved nephew. The queen’s face lost all color. Her jaw dropped in horror. Then she flew through the crowd, past terrified maidens and befuddled guards.
“Remi! Remi!”
There were no sobs, yet you could hear the pain in her voice. He didn’t know if the queen had ever cried a day in her life. She’d been raised by tough parents, even tougher than she was. After her husband Etienne, the former alpha, died, she’d stepped up to challenge the others. She wanted to be leader of this pack. She felt it was her duty since her husband’s death. The first female to ever attempt to fight for alpha in the history of their people. Only one male had challenged her for position of alpha—Xavier Carbon. He seemed to want the crown as badly as she did. A man who’d bartered with her, offered her marriage and lucrative deals if only she’d mate with him so he could be king. In the end though, he’d chosen not to fight her. Perhaps his feelings for her at the time were too strong.
She’d won. So hard did she have to work to sustain her position in this pack as a female alpha. Broderick’s respect for the queen could never be fiercer.
No tears from Queen Lysette Gerioux. Yet her breaths were ragged, cutting through the air in slices.
“Who... who did this?” came the queen’s ragged, growled question.
No one answered, too struck in fear of the queen. For such a slender, beautiful woman, she terrified average folks. One look in her eyes and you saw the chilling toughness residing inside her. This was a woman who could murder, her eyes spoke for her. This was a woman who could not compromise.
So, when the queen growled her question one more time, her voice rising as her slight shoulders heaved in big breaths, the guards backed up a step.
Broderick steppe up, however. It looked like he needed to be the one to explain the situation.
“My Queen—”
Her head snapped towards him like a snake. Eyes flashing wildly, she was seconds away from hurting someone, or doing something crazy. She wasn’t exactly known for her calm tranquility. More like her flaming temper.
“Broderick? What has happened?” A snake’s hiss, words gritted out from between clenched teeth.
Broderick hesitated. “We heard gun fire in the southwest quadrant. I got the call. We formed a team to search the area immediately. We arrived and found Remi as is.” His eyes landed on dead boy. His face bloody and swollen, body motionless with death. “Remi had already gone. These two were at the scene. The woman has blood on her hands and swollen knuckles. Likely from attacking Remi. We found his car nearby. They were on a date together. The man, is unknown, possibly a guard for the MacKellen pack. His name is Alex Thompson.”
The queen swayed on her knees as she listened. Her head gently cocking to the side. She looked almost as if in a trance. Then she stood and walked over to their two captives, who had remained silent during these proceedings.
She ordered the guards to force them to their knees. They went willingly enough. Broderick joined nearby. As the queen’s personal guardsman, he’d earned more than her respect--he’d heartened her trust over the years. Standing near her, she did not mind, whereas with others she might have them killed.
“Who are you that you killed my nephew? My boy?!”
She had indeed been like a mother to her dead sister’s son. Her sister might have been the only person in the world; the queen had cared about, except for perhaps her son, Remi. Although in Broderick’s opinion, the boy had always been a spoilt, devilish little brat.
Neither
one of the captives answered.
The queen leaned in the woman’s face, the sister of alpha Gavin MacKellen. This wasn’t some run of the mill lykaen girl, but a sister to the alpha. They would need to tread carefully here. Which is why he was watching the queen closely.
The queen screamed. A high, ear-piercing shout, the note held like a horrible train’s whistle. Hanna blanched but the guard’s held her in place. The screaming stopped, thankfully. Then a vicious slap across the face, staining Hanna’s face a deep, vibrant red.
“Why did you do it? Why?!”
The queen was losing it. Broderick saw the meltdown happening but still he didn’t react quickly enough.
The queen let loose a brutal backhand across the male’s cheek using her fist. The male grunted, then spat out blood.
“Kill them! KILL THEM BOTH!”
Her shout, a command, instantly heard by the guards, put them in motion.
The queen tore herself away, fists clenched in rage. Two guards unsheathed their silver knives.
Hanna buckled, screaming from the tops of her lungs. “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me please!”
The male fought against his captors violently. It took several more guards to capture him and hold him still, shoving him back down to his knees alongside the woman. Knives were pressed to their straining, sweaty throats.
Broderick moved quickly. A whisper in the queen’s ear to make her see reason.
“Do not kill them yet, Lysette.” She stiffened, fists trembling. “They could be worth much to you. She is Gavin MacKellen’s sister.”
It was like a switch being thrown. The queen calmed. Logic once again filled her mind. The rage drifting like receding tides.
Quickly, Broderick ordered the guards to take the prisoners below. With a nod from the queen, they exited.
Broderick followed the queen into her inner chambers.
“Eliza! Pour me some wine!” the queen said.
A maiden’s servant with flaxen, yellow hair worn in a long braid down her back, hustled into the room. She performed a curtsey, eyes never actually looking up at the queen.