Two long days and endless nights later and nothing had changed. Time passed and still I lay curled in a corner of the cabin, unwilling to talk to Zachary. This hadn't stopped him from talking to me, or rather at me, it seemed I wasn't a necessary participant. Zachary, I was learning, was not interested in much beyond himself and his life, everyone else were simply a means to an end.
Escape. The single word that ran through my head every hour since Zachary had announced his 'distraction' plan. All I could now think of was that I needed to get out of here and tell the Pack about it, so that they could prevent the impending disaster.
Another rock bit into the sole of my foot, causing me to stumble, but I refused to slow down. Running through the woods in wolf form would have been so much easier, but I wasn't able to shift back again so quickly, it took too much energy. Instead I had to rely on my less than brilliant human senses to help guide me through the wall of trees.
I was back in the woods, a place I'd been hoping to take a break from after my last trip through them. This time though I wasn't running for my life, and I was with a Pack of wolves I'd trust with my life.
He would be fine. He would be absolutely fine.
The sun was sinking beneath the horizon casting a beautiful warm light across the clearing. It was an idyllic scene, one that would inspire poets and painters alike, there was no sign of the violence that was to come. This place of seeming peace and calm had been selected as the location for the fight, soon the serenity would be lost.
Chaos. That was the only word that got even close to describing the scene at the hospital. How many people had the psycho attacked? Worried relatives crowded the waiting room as my guards and I pushed our way through. The weight of panic pressed down on me.
Tension was thick in the air, so heavy I was sure that even the unwitting humans could sense it. We were all in a state if high alert; watching, waiting. Zachary still hovered in the reception area, enjoying the results of his handiwork. Meanwhile I remained out of sight in the waiting room, praying that the others didn't lose track of him.
Zachary was dead and I truthfully had no idea how I felt about that. In accordance with Pack law he had been executed for his crimes, with Max as his executioner. As a victim of his, and man I hated that word, I'd had the right to watch him die. I'd declined. I had no desire to see a man killed, and I really didn't want to see my boyfriend in the role of killer.