Freed Wolf

47 Princess

A deafening chorus of howls sound all around us as panic blooms in me. Even Peter’s stony facade is marred by fear as we stand frozen outside of Dave's camp in the budding chaos. Without warning, he grabs my hand and bolts for the pack house, cutting down anyone in our way.

My heart hammers as I struggle to keep my feet moving and under me. I lose sight of our escort and cringe as I realize just how far we are from the packhouse; there is literally an army between us and our goal. Men surge around us, breaking his grip as I'm swallowed up by the chaos. 

"Not even my collar can save you out there without an escort."

Dimitri’s words echo in my mind as my heart races. I scan the crowd, desperately trying to find Peter but I can't see anything in the surging sea of men. My chest tightens painfully as panic threatens to take over.

"Look who it is," the rogue from earlier sneers as he grabs me roughly by the arm. I try to twist and break his grip but he's too strong and snaps me towards him. As a last ditch effort I try and catch him with an elbow but another man grabs and twists my free hand behind my back. Their dark grins make me shudder as my mind reels, trying to come up with a new plan.

In a blur the rogue’s throat is opened as his stunned eyes lock on mine. He lets go, desperately trying to staunch the free flowing blood, but he's too late and falls a moment later. Relief floods me as my pinned arm is released. I spin and come face to face with Flick, a bloody blade in his hand. My heart hammers as I take a cautious step back.

"Really?" Flick asks, raising a brow. "If I was going to kill you, I could have just left you with them. Move your ass, Highness!"

On a leap of faith, I take off after him as he cuts his way through the crowd. I struggle to keep up, twisting and ducking as fingers claw at me. With a missed step, I stumble and am checked down. I'm back on my feet in an instant, desperately scanning for Flick and Peter. All I can see is a deranged man in front of me. 

A flash of metal catches my attention from a man nearby who is grappling with another. Instinct takes over and I grab the dagger from his belt, spinning back to my attacker in one fluid move and opening his throat. He looks at me with a mix of rage and disgust as he chokes to death on his own blood. 

Once again I look for anyone who might offer me any help. The chaos of the crowds around me is overwhelming and disorienting. Alarms keep sounding, men are running in various directions and random brawls are happening everywhere.

Another man comes at me. He holds his blade like he thinks he can simply jab me or the threat alone will make me comply. He's sadly mistaken as I easily side step his lunge before spinning and driving my blade into the base of his skull. He crumples instantly.

I don't have a chance to think as two more men rush me. I grab the dead man's blade and go into autopilot. A strange sense of calm washes over me as my Guardian training takes over.

Strike, duck, slash, feint, I dance this deadly dance but even in my current state I outclass my adversaries. In no time, the men are dead and I push my way on towards the pack house. I've covered half the distance but that just puts me in the middle of the army.

The sea of men either ignore me or attack me, either way it makes for slow progress. My energy is dropping quickly, not as fast as my attackers, but I won't be able to keep this up for much longer.

I hear Peter bellow up ahead as I near the pack house. My shouts are lost in the roar of the crowd as I struggle to make any forward progress. Barely in time, I catch sight of a blade swiping by my temple and duck as my heart hammers.

The man is easily more skilled than any of my other opponents today, striking and slashing with seasoned precision. All I can do is duck and dodge, praying for an opening. Two more men join in, driving me back at a record pace.