The Savage Grace: A Dark Divine Novel(39)



Another thunderous crack echoed in my ears—but there’d been no lightning.

A gunshot?!

“No!” I shrieked. Power surged through my muscles like I’d received an injection of pure adrenaline to my heart. I rocketed between trees and over boulders. I couldn’t tell where the echoing gunshot had come from, but I followed my instincts—or whatever it was that pulled me in the direction of the ravine, the last place where I’d encountered the white wolf in these woods.

If someone got to Daniel before I did…

The rain fell heavier now, pounding down almost as hard and as fast as my racing feet. I was almost to the ravine when a second shot was fired. I veered slightly to the right, able to pinpoint the origin of the blast this time. I moved with quick but deliberate steps, careful not to make a sound as I slinked behind an upcropping of bushes.

“You missed again,” I heard a low voice grumble. “You never miss.”

“It’s these damn silver bullets,” a second voice answered, sounding even more annoyed. “They don’t fly right. Start cheating to the left, or you won’t hit a thing.”

I peaked through the bushes and found myself behind two hunters, dressed in camouflage rain gear, with high-tech-looking scopes attached to their large rifles.

One of them bent down, as if checking a print in the mud. He wiped rain from his face and signaled to his friend to be silent. He made a gesture, and the two separated, fanning out as they took off in a quiet jog after their prey. I followed the hunter who supposedly never missed, because he seemed the greater threat, as they headed toward the ravine.

I knew what they’d find there before I even saw him.

The great white wolf stood only a few yards away, at the edge of the ravine. He glared at the expert hunter as he raised his gun. The red dot of the gun’s laser scope marked the hunter’s aim, about six inches left of the wolf’s heart.

The white wolf bared his teeth in a growl. He stepped back, and one of his hind paws slipped a bit on the cliff’s edge.

I could feel the satisfaction radiating off the hunter’s shoulders, and it made my insides roar with power. Just as his fingers went for the trigger, I ran up on a boulder and leaped onto the hunter’s back. I hit him hard from behind with my forearms as I landed. He shouted, and his gun went off, sending a wild bullet flying before I slammed him to the ground. He landed in a motionless heap with me on top of him.

I gasped and rolled him onto his side, noticing a trickle of blood seeping from the gash in his forehead. My heart quickened with panic. I hadn’t actually wanted to hurt him. I was about to feel for his pulse in his neck when he groaned. I pulled my hand back.

“Hey!” the second hunter shouted.

My head snapped up, and I saw him running toward me in the rain with his gun raised.

“What’d you do to him?” He stopped short when he got a better look at me—the teenage girl standing over his unconscious two-hundred-pound friend. “Who are you?”

It was then that I recognized the man. Pete Bradshaw’s only uncle, Jeff Bradshaw. I’d met him once, when my family were guests at Pete’s sister’s wedding two summers ago. He looked a lot like Pete’s dad, only blond, but he was only a few years older than we were. April had practically swooned when Jeff had asked her to dance at the wedding.

What on earth was I supposed to do now? I didn’t have time to think of a proper excuse for what I had done—and he might recognize me, too, if I let him look at me any longer.…

The white wolf let out a sharp growl. Jeff started to swing his gun around, ready to shoot at the crouching animal. Before he could finish the movement, I lunged for him, grabbed the end of his rifle, yanked it from his hands, and then swung it at him like baseball bat. The butt of the gun made a cracking noise as it smacked against the side of his head—almost as if I’d hit a home run. He fell to the ground, unconscious but still breathing, next to his friend.

The rain thickened. My soaked clothes clung to my shivering body. Lightning and thunder crashed as the white wolf arched his head back in a great, earsplitting howl. The first hunter I’d knocked down let out an answering groan. He’d be conscious soon. I had to get Daniel out of here.

“Come,” I said to the white wolf, motioning to him.

He whined, and I was afraid he’d try to run away.

“Come, please.”


He stepped cautiously toward me until his snout was almost touching my chest. I threaded my fingers into the wet fur around his neck. “This isn’t over yet. Not until you’re safe.”

He let out a grunt as if he understood.

“Let’s go, then.”





Chapter Seventeen


NOT OUT OF THE WOODS YET


HEADED HOME

Rain poured down on us as we ran. Like a full-on monsoon had blown into Minnesota. I carried the two rifles I’d taken off the hunters and ran through the forest with the great white wolf at my side. Our feet sank deep into the mud with each step, but I prayed the rain would wash away our trail. What if Pete’s uncle Jeff had recognized me? Would he remember who I am? With that much money on the line—not to mention wanting to get even with someone who’d bashed you in the head with a rifle—I knew those two hunters would probably come looking for us as soon as they regained consciousness. How long that would be, I didn’t know. It’s not like I made a habit of knocking people out.

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