Page 43 of Targeted By Fate
He scented the air deeply and then again, stood up, and barked out orders. “Find out what that is, and if someone is the cause, end them. I don’t care if it’s teens thinking they are funny.”
I couldn’t smell it at first. But then—smoke. The unmistakable scent of smoke. Even with my dulled senses, it was overtaking me.
“I should kill you now.” His eyes kept darting back and forth. Then his foot came up and knocked me back, the shock of it stealing my breath.
“Burn, kitty, burn.”
He ran out of the room, leaving me all alone.
I had to get out. I had to leave. I called my cat—he wasn’t there. I called him again. Still not there.
Whatever was on the smelly bag that was over my head when I woke up— had made it impossible for me to shift.
Fuck.
Growls in the distance grew closer. The smoke worsened. There were shots—multiple shots—and I flinched at every one, my head the only thing moving. I had to get out of here. I did. I needed to save my baby.
I started to squirm. Back and forth. Back and forth. Hoping to inch the chair across the floor. Making no progress.
Then—the sound of a door being broken open gave me a surge of hope.
Cassian’s mate would have just opened it. He had the key. This was someone else. Someone here for me.
Maybe it was a firefighter. Maybe it was my mate. It didn’t matter who it was.
I needed out.
“Help!” I called out. My voice came out as barely a whisper, turning into a fitful cough. My eyes were getting heavy.
The last thing I remembered before everything went black, was the entire chair being picked up with me in it.
My mate was here.
I was safe.
And then there was nothing.
I came to in the car. I was in my mate’s lap, and we were going fast.
“Please, please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up,” he said over and over again. I couldn’t crack my eyes open. I tried to move. I must’ve moved enough where he noticed, because he could feel it too.
“I’m here. I’m here. It’s me.” His kiss on the top of my head gave me the strength to open my eyes for the first time.
“Mate,” I croaked. It was crackly and awful.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”
I tried to say something—tried to tell him I was sorry.
Instead, I went out again. My body too weak. My lungs burning. It was too much.
When I woke up the next time, I was in our bed. My mate’s wolf was curled up beside me, protecting me.
I reached over, my arm finally working, and placed my hand on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
He got up, licking my face, then jumped off the bed to shift.
“Maybe we could go back to AirTags.”
