Dead World 3, page 31
“I put up with your appalling behavior when Morgan was gone, but it ends now,” Red said.
Maggie’s eyes turned dark amber as the wolf inside her surfaced. She stood, directly challenging Red.
Red’s claws came out and her vision faded, before snapping into clarity. “I will not accept anything less than your full submission,” she growled. Tufts of hair covered her arms. Bones broke and her teeth ejected. Red screamed, but somehow managed to keep her feet beneath her. “Do you understand?” Her jaw snapped at Maggie, stopping inches in front of her face.
Maggie whimpered. “Yes.” She quickly lowered her gaze to the floor.
“Does anyone else have a problem with me running Nuria with Morgan?” Red asked, her voice nearly unrecognizable.
“No,” a chorus of deputies shouted.
“Good,” she said. “Now get back to work.”
Morgan stepped out of his office and surveyed the scene. Pride colored his features. “You heard her,” he barked.
Everyone jumped and busied themselves, even the ones who had nothing to do.
She’d finally claimed her spot in the pack—in this town. Red looked at Morgan. His eyes glowed softly, letting her know she’d conquered his heart long ago.
There would be no more defiance as long as they led together. They’d proven ten times over that they were meant to be mates. And no one, not Roark, not Nuria, not even death itself, would ever tear them apart again.
Epilogue
Roark Montgomery stood on the front porch of his stone cabin in the Republic of Utarado. He’d found this place tucked inside a dead forest on the side of a mountain range that used to hold twenty feet of snowpack.
He’d killed the recluse who owned it and buried him out back. That had been twenty years ago and no one had been any wiser. He’d been coming here to get away from it all ever since.
There was a nip in the air. He held the cup of synth-coffee to his lips and blew on it before taking a sip. It was bitter, but the warmth cut the chill from his bones.
The woods seemed eerily calm today. No sounds of scurrying creatures, only a slight breeze that caused the branches to creak incessantly.
He raised the cup again and was about to take another drink when a howl pierced the silence. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard the wolves, but they tended to come at night, not during the day.
Roark squinted at the woods, searching for signs of movement in the branches and among the petrified tree trunks. Nothing caught his eye, but he continued to watch as he drank his coffee.
A few minutes passed. Roark was just starting to relax when a second howl came, this time much closer. The hair on his neck rose. The howl was answered by another and another. He put down his coffee cup and reached for his gun.
Where was the sound coming from? It echoed through the mountains, making it hard to pinpoint.
Roark searched the trees, but nothing moved. It didn’t matter. He was being hunted. Of that, there was no doubt. He pressed a button on the side of the weapon and a scope popped up. As he looked through it, Roark saw a flash of fur.
“Got you,” he said.
The gun was ripped from his hands before he could fire and thrown into the woods. Roark turned to face the new threat. A man with obsidian-colored eyes glared at him. Fury radiated from his body.
Roark stumbled back. There was something familiar about the man’s appearance. Had they met? Before he could ask, the man opened his mouth, revealing long, sharp fangs. In that moment, he knew the truth.
“This is for my brother.” The man grabbed Roark by the shirt and yanked him forward, then sank his fangs into his throat.
Roark was so shocked by the pain that he didn’t even fight back. The man took a couple of swallows of blood, then tossed him off the porch. Roark landed hard, knocking the breath out of him. He wheezed as he crawled into the woods to escape.
He didn’t see the second attack coming, but he felt it. Teeth and claws shredded Roark’s body, tearing pieces of his life away. He saw dark fur and flashes of amber eyes.
Familiar eyes…
In that moment he experienced true clarity: Roark was staring into the faces of death.
His death.
There would be no mercy. No reprieve. For he’d shown none.
Iron jaws clamped onto his bones, snapping them in half. Roark screamed until he could scream no more, but there was no one around to hear him as the wolves tore him apart.
The world swirled in pools of crimson, then slowly faded to black, taking his dreams of power with it. He gasped, then gurgled. Then Roark did something he’d never wanted to do. He died…with the sound of wolves howling in his ears.
Thank You!
Thank you for taking the time to read Dead World 3: CRIMSON. If you enjoyed the book, please consider leaving a REVIEW for other readers. I’d be thrilled and grateful. If you’ve already left a good review, drop me an email to let me know so that I can thank you personally. If you want to know more about my other work and future projects, join my newsletter, ENDLESS SUMMERS!
Other Dead World Titles
Dead World 1: RED
Dead World 2: SCARLET
Dead World Prequels: Raphael and Kane
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Jordan Summers, Dead World 3
