Chapter 35: Keep Up

FREYA

“We’re leaving now,” Ivar snarled as he jerked her head again to make her move. “I need to plan before I face them again.” He swiveled his head around, lifting his nose into the air to sniff.

Ivar began to stalk through the woods pulling Freya with him. Her dress was now soaked full of rainwater and torn from her run through the underbrush of the forest. As Ivar tugged her along by the back of her neck with clawed hands digging into her scalp, Freya could feel blood begin to drip from where his nails pierced her flesh.

She stumbled as Freya tried to keep pace with Ivar’s long strides. At some point, her shoes got stuck in the mud and slipped from her feet. Her bare feet slipped in the sludge of the forest floor and were scraped by rocks and broken limbs.

Ivar didn’t even look at Freya as he tugged her along. The brute was confident his captive could not get away.

But she was resolved to fight him, even if it meant she’d die.

It felt like so much time had passed as Freya was hauled through the trees. Rain pelted them through the branches above. The light of the blue moon cast an eerie glow through the black storm clouds.

Fog was seeping up from the dark edges of the woods. Their path was obscured with the curtain of rain pouring down through the treetops. Even Freya’s advanced vision was unclear. She didn’t know how Ivar was able to find his way. She knew his sense of smell would be hindered by the rain. That must be why the pack hadn’t been able to catch up to them yet.

Freya hoped with an ache deep in her chest that Cain would be able to catch her scent even with the rain washing it away. She wanted him to come save her from the monster who was taking her away to kill her.

Her feet were aching, and her body sagged with the exhaustion of running in the freezing rain. She focused on staying alive.

Ivar pulled Freya until they broke out of the forest and onto a ledge overlooking the wide canyon separating the lands of their races. The rain now pummeled them harder without the protection from the trees, and Freya felt weighed down. Exhaustion was attempting to pull her to the ground the moment Ivar brought their running to a halt.

The sound of the pack was so far away.

“Here. We go down,” Ivar growled and tilted his head down toward the canyon below. In the black of the night they couldn’t even see the bottom. But that was where he intended to take her.

~Would she die at the bottom of the canyon tonight?~

Even in the dark of the night with torrential rain pouring down at their backs, Ivar was able to traverse a slim path through the rocky crags down into the rift. He was dragging Freya along as if she was no more than a disobedient animal. Each time her foot slipped, the beast would grab her by the hair and yank her upright.

With the freezing cold and rain, Freya was starting to turn a frightening shade of blue. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she was dragged along the steep edges. The only thing keeping her upright in her exhausted state was her proficiency with climbing over the years. If she hadn’t learned to take advantage of ascending the heights, she was sure that Ivar would already be dragging a corpse.

Although she was skilled in climbing, Freya hadn’t really practiced this talent in the rain, or such devastating weather. She knew well enough that it would be dangerous. One wrong step and she’d be gone.

There was no telling what time of night it was anymore. The sky was black as ink. It seemed like so long ago that she had safely been in Cain’s arms enjoying the start of their new lives together. They had been the newly anointed couple that was the symbol of their two races putting generations of war behind them.

The thought occurred to Freya that Ivar could surely hear her frequent, broken sobs as they maneuvered his path. She knew he didn’t care. He was going to kill her. Once she was dead, the Adaryn would retaliate. He would get the war he so desperately craved.

It didn’t matter that she was their easy sacrifice. She was still Adaryn. They would avenge her death out of principle. Decades of war and hatred didn’t dissipate with one quick union, no matter if the new couple was actually in love or not. Loathing was built into their bones.

“Here,” Ivar growled as he tossed Freya into the freezing muck at the bottom of the canyon. Cold mud stuck to her dress and covered her hair weighing her down as she attempted to push herself up. She needed to stay aware of her surroundings.

Freya managed to lift herself upright onto her knees where she turned her head to look up the tall craggy walls of the canyon she was now at the bottom of. Would Cain be able to find her in time?

She didn’t know where he was. If only she could find a weapon.

There was howling high above them. Wolves were hunting at the top of the canyon. Freya knew there might be a chance they could hear her. If only she could get a sound through her dry throat. The cold and her gasping for breath left her throat parched and pained when she tried to make a sound now. Her body shook as she let out an inaudible whimper.

Even with her superior sight, she couldn’t see movement at the top of the gorge. She hoped they had followed her scent and would know she had been taken down here. But there was too much wind and rain and mud. The chances of them being able to pick up her scent in these conditions were so low.

She was terrified.

The howling was still too close for Ivar. He was scanning the tree line far above.

“At least down here, I will be able to enjoy your death. We won’t have to rush.”

Freya’s lower lip trembled. She scanned the ground for something she could use as a weapon.

He swung his arms around and began stretching his shoulders, then rolled his neck around. It seemed he was preparing himself to shift again. “I am definitely going to enjoy this. My shit-eating nephew doesn’t deserve the pack after agreeing to take you, and my sister wasn’t worthy for agreeing to this plan. But after we kill your kind, I think the pack will thrive.”

“You’ll never lead them.” Freya’s voice came out barely audible.

But she knew he’d heard her.

Ivar froze and turned to look down at Freya. His mouth was turned down and his brows were scrunched together. He clenched his fists at his sides. When Freya spat on the ground at his feet, Ivar snarled and leapt at her.

A choked gasp left her throat as his heavy body crashed against her. His meaty fist wrapped around her throat. Ivar’s foul breath was against her ear as he growled like the beast he was.

Freya felt sick.

He was too heavy, and he wasn’t holding back as he pressed her into the jagged stony ground at the canyon’s bottom. Clawed nails were digging into her neck. One wrong move, and he would kill her.

Freya’s right arm was trapped between her ribs and Ivar’s chest. She could feel the cool armor inlaid into the fabric as her corset. The sharp end of the material was digging into her forearm.

Then she remembered the knife. Raga had a knife in her armor. Kestrel had made sure to tell her about it.

“You filthy bird. How dare you speak to me like that.”

She could feel him moving against her as Ivar started to let his body shift into the monster hiding under his skin.

“And oh, how I’m going to enjoy tearing out your slender little throat.”

Ivar pulled his head back enough for Freya to see the sharp canines elongating in his mouth and the fur that was starting to emerge from his neck. His eyes were starting to glow like blood under the moonlight.

Freya could feel her heart beating against her chest as though it wanted to escape from her body. Fear coursed through her veins. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but she knew this was it.

She had to fight him and try to run.

She went for Raga’s knife while Ivar started to transform to his beastly nature.

The knife was as cold as ice in her hands. Freya gripped it with such force that she could feel it cut into her palm.

Ivar’s chest was heaving as his chest and sternum cracked and the bones inside were starting to reform. In one moment, he took a deep breath accompanied by a low growl. On the exhale, Freya had just enough room between them to move her arm.

In the blink of an eye, Freya’s wrist drew back. She would only have one shot. She had to strike true.

As the beast let his weight collapse back onto Freya, she thrust upward with her sister’s knife.

A guttural noise escaped Ivar’s throat.

His body froze in its transformation. Neither of them was breathing as rain continued to splatter down on the ground around them.

She stabbed again and again. She went for the heart.

Ivar’s head tilted down to look at Freya lying beneath him. He looked down at his own chest where only a small portion of the knife handle could be seen.

Hot blood began to drip rapidly from the wound and down onto Freya’s midsection. Ivar’s nostrils were flaring, and his dark eyes were knit together. He peeled his lips back from his monstrous teeth and let out a last snarl that turned into a low whine. Blood dripped from his lips and directly onto Freya’s face.

His furred arms that had been holding him up lost their strength and Ivar collapsed fully into Freya. This knocked the breath right out of her. The man on top of her was weighing her down and crushing her chest, leaving no room for her to breathe.

Freya drew on every last bit of strength she had left to push him off of her. After moments of struggle, she was able to shove him enough to slip out from under the body. Ivar’s form rolled over, and Freya looked to see his partially transformed body blankly staring up into the blackened sky.

He was dead.