Hunt Me! (I Crave The Chase) - Page 193

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

Something broke inside me then.

My skin burned, claws severing flesh as I jerked against the bars and roared. Spittle fell onto the concrete, my form tearing liquid hot as acid burned through my veins.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

The threads I’d formed that had twined around Jeffrey from the day we’d met snapped, and what little bond I’d managed to form disappeared entirely. All that was left was black, black, black. The ache. The hunger. The bars bit into my shoulder as I slammed against them—taller now—on two legs. Over and over, I slammed against them, metal screeching as I tore at it.

“Mutt—Mutt—” Harry’s voice was faint. “Mutt?—”

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

Claws tore at the metal, blood smearing along their surface as I slammed into them over and over and over and over and over.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

“Mutt—” Jules’s voice now. “Mutt!”

“Fuck.” Harry’s voice was hollow. “Fuck. Fuck. He’s feral. He’s fucking?—”

The large vehicle peeled out of the garage, the door rising and staying open, the woods outside calling my name as the prey disappeared in a cloud of crunching gravel. Hungry, hungry—so hungry.

It hurt hurt hurt.

My mate?—

My mate?—

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead. He’s already dead.

“Mutt—Matthew—” Harry tried again.

This time I turned my ire on him, swiveling around, my hackles raised, a low rumbling snarl bubbling up inside my throat. I hit the other side of the cage, hairy arms pushing through the gaps, blood soaked claws jerking toward the two wolves chained to the wall.

I wasn’t close enough.

Wasn’t close enough?—