A Cruel Kindness

Chapter 31

Soren

Lucky was whining underneath me, reflecting the torment that was in my own chest. I still thought it was fucking stupid to separate me and Bellamy.

I was alternating between watching out for Lucky’s steps, looking out for people behind trees, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling that fell deeper with each step away from Bellamy.

The further into the forest we went, the darker the cover from light grew and the harder it was for me to see what was in front of me.

“Hold on there,” I said to Lucky, hopping off him to collect a handful of pebbles and rocks off the ground.

When we took off again, I started throwing rocks ahead of us. If there was a landmine buried somewhere, the vibration of the stones hitting the ground would set them off.

Lucky’s usual huffs of exertion were growing more intense. Despite my size, he was able to carry me with ease. The change of his breathing told me that it was something else, something more emotional. “You miss Clover, bud?”

Lucky snorted affirmatively and I had to laugh in return. Three of us—the Bond being the third—were now moody and missing their women.

There was still a laugh in my breathing as I threw the next stone.

Lucky felt it before me, reeling up to try to protect me.

The shock wave hit us first, flattening the trees around us and sending Lucky stumbling back.

I pulled his reins, forcing him to the side behind the cover of a large tree as the blast followed, sending scorching hot air by us.

I watched as the leaves wilted, burned by the explosion. They were thin enough to be killed by the heat, but for me it felt like stepping too close to a fire.

After a few heaving breaths as Lucky and I realized we hadn’t been turned into Muli barbecue, I led him out behind the tree to see the damage.

Thank God for the strength of my throw. The landmine seemed to have originated thirty or so feet away, scorching everything in a ten foot radius into oblivion. The blast had been directed upwards mostly, destroying the trunks of the trees around it.

Oh fuck no.

Right as an ominous creaking began ringing through the forest, I slowly backed Lucky away, looking for the trees that were about to fall.

A towering one that was likely several hundred years old started to crash down, falling away from us.

A sick feeling twisted in my gut seeing a piece of nature so old and strong crash down from something man made and built for war.

With my next breath in, I felt the brush of the Bond against my mind. I wasn’t going to read into any sign from God or Goddess. That I’d watched a tree fall when my bond with my paranima , marked on my back by a similar tree, was crashing down in an equally spectacular flourish.

Fuck this.

Bellamy and I could cover ground together, even if it took double the time.

Lucky flipped us around, immediately breaking into a gallop.

For a second I thought he’d preempted my thoughts, taking the first opportunity to run towards his mate. I’d seen him run towards Clover. He’d excitedly gallop towards her, moving forward quickly but still taking some time to sit in the anticipation.

This wasn’t an excited gallop. This was a sprint.

Relief tried to attack the anguish in my chest, but failed. I didn’t feel any better, even with the promise of seeing Bellamy in a few seconds.

Lucky barreled towards the tree line, his instincts taking over and allowing him to sprint through uneven ground with ease. We broke through the trees seconds later, and what we saw made me almost fall off him.

Clover was galloping across the field towards us, without Bellamy on her back.

My whole world crashed down around me, channeling my vision into the empty space over Clover’s back.

Where. Is. She. The Bond snarled.

“Faster,” I commanded, sending Lucky running even harder. My heart was about to beat out of my chest as the seconds slipped by far too slow. No amount of time would feel short enough to reach Clover.

When we finally did, Lucky went immediately for her side, licking a path up the gash on her flank.

My heart plummeted into my stomach.

No. No, that wasn’t possible.

“Where is she?” I growled out, panic seizing my throat. Clover and Lucky took over where I couldn’t, taking off the way Clover came. All I could do was hold onto Lucky’s reins and pray to God that Bellamy was okay. As we ran along, my legs burning from the breakneck pace, I searched my body and my mind for signs of sickness, a hint that my life was about to end just as Bellamy’s had.

The problem was, that seemed like a fine way to go. There was nothing for me if she wasn’t living, wasn’t smiling at me like she was annoyed I’d been able to get to her in the first place.

Fuck.

I’d fucked up.

That was my most prominent thought as we ran and ran and ran in search of her. That I should have fought harder. At the beginning, we’d spent far too much time resisting everything.

I’d stood by as she suffered her fate. I should have taken the beating for the both of us, playing the possessive Soul Mate that refused to let her marry someone else until someone came up with a better plan. One that didn’t hurt her.

Responsibility and duty felt like weak excuses now.

In the end, that was nothing in the face of how much I loved her. There was nothing that could be more important than holding her one last time.

We crested a small hill, leading to an expansive field, and my eyes searched the ground for any sign of her, hoping she’d just sent Clover to find me but she was still well enough to jump up and call me to her.

I found nothing, which only sent me further into insanity. I could barely breathe as Clover ran towards a bed of wildflowers backing up to the forest.

The closer we got, and the more time that went by that I didn’t see Bellamy, the more I was convinced that I would surely die before we even got there.

Clover’s pained sounds cut through the wind whipping through my ears, and while I couldn’t bear the thought of her being injured, I could only hope it was because of the wound on her side.

After a few moments, Clover started to slow down.

I saw it then, a wash of flowing black hair cutting through the bright flowers.

Bellamy.

“Bell!” I shouted, praying that she’d simply pop up from a rest in the flowers and make my heart start beating again.

She didn’t move.

Clover ran straight for her, crying as she tried to nudge her with her snout and get her to start moving.

Lucky’s own distress was palpable, though I couldn’t tell if it was for my own pain or Clover’s. Probably both.

I jumped off his back, not even bothering to keep with proper form. I ran towards Bellamy, dropping to my knees next to her. The ground underneath me squished, and I realized it was because it was wet with her blood.

I was so focused on her face, as restful as if she’d just been sleeping, that I didn’t even realize what her wounds were until I saw the bloody fabric wrapped around her leg. Her shirt was off, half of it discarded to the side and looked like it was soaked through with her blood.

The other half was tied around her upper thigh, cutting off circulation to her leg.

Someone fucking shot her.

God, the bullet was probably embedded into Clover’s side.

My hands shook as I brought them to Bellamy’s face, lightly tapping her cheek.

“Come on, baby, please.” I could feel tears slipping down my face. “Please wake up.”

I shook her a little harder, praying that she jolted awake with a quip about leaving her alone.

She didn’t, just flopped into my hold even as I stroked and patted her skin. My head fell to her chest, listening for her heartbeat as my fingers cradled her neck to feel for her pulse.

It took several, agonizing seconds for her heart to make a weak, hollow pump in her chest.

My breath fell out of me so heavily, I was sure my lungs collapsed.

But once I—and the Bond—realized she was alive, I switched from soul-crushing grief to panic in a second.

“I’ve got you, Bell. I’ve got you,” I said as I lifted her over my shoulder with as much care as I could manage and whistled for Lucky to come over and stop licking Clover’s side. I knew he was as worried as I was.

Clover seemed to have stopped bleeding, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t in pain.

I wasn’t even sure how I managed to haul Bellamy up on Lucky with me, arranging her around my lap so her injured leg wasn’t bumping against the saddle, but I did.

The second my boots hooked into the stirrups, Lucky took over, running even faster than he had to get here. Daylight had started to fade by now, forcing me to trust Lucky’s instincts to get us back to camp.

I knew my way around, even in the darkening light, but there was no focusing on anything else but Bellamy’s slow heartbeat.

The Bond was freaking out, thrashing like a caged animal and snarling for vengeance.

We would get it. Once I found out who fucking did this to her, I would find great joy in meticulously removing their skin from their person, just slow enough that they would remember every horrible second.

I was blind with rage, with grief, with fear. As we rode along, I didn’t care how bad my legs hurt, or how strained my arms were from holding Bellamy’s limp body up and away from the rock of the saddle.

All I cared about was getting her to safety, even if I had to get trampled over to do it.

I couldn’t tell how long it had been before the lights of the camp started dotting the horizon. Lucky grumbled something at Clover, some language only they could understand, that had her sprinting even harder towards camp.

She could move faster without two bodies on her back. I knew Lucky was tired and that he was annoyed he couldn’t tend to Clover. I could feel it in every fabric of our bond.

But he put me first. Put Bellamy first. I could never thank him enough.

Minutes—though an obscure number of them—later, the camp started to gain an outline, and then I heard it.

The sound of hooves slamming against the ground in panic, the raised voices of people shouting commands at each other.

“Soren!” someone called, but I couldn’t tell who over the rushing of blood in my ears.

Lucky and I made it to the small creek that signaled the start of camp when I realized that it was Peter, Ella, Ford, and Esme who had followed Clover towards us.

“Bellamy,” Esme gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth.

“Is she—”

“Alive,” I snapped to cut Peter off. I refused to let anyone entertain a reality, whether past or present, where we discussed Bellamy’s death.

Esme fell over Sky’s mane with relief, and while Ford was staring at us with a hard jaw, Shadow turned to press her snout to Esme’s leg in comfort.

My arms gave out on their own, the muscles giving out from overexertion. Bellamy dropped into the saddle, but the movement didn’t wake her.

Peter moved his horse towards us and reached out towards Bellamy. “Here, let me—”

“No,” I snarled, bringing her closer to my chest. “No one touches her.”

Peter frowned in protest. “Soren, you aren’t—”

“I’m carrying her.” My words were final. I didn’t feel much like a person, more like an animal defending against a predator, snapping their jaws at any incoming threat.

Peter’s head turned in a show of hesitation, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere with me. He’d seen this before, seen what would happen if a paranima was around their injured Match and someone tried to get in the middle of it.

I made a point not to look to the light gray horse next to me, nor its rider, who’s eyes were surely cast down.

I lifted Bellamy again, even though my muscles were screaming at me that they couldn’t handle much more. I didn’t give a shit what my body could handle. Bellamy would not experience any more pain for as long as I could help it.

Tightening my legs around Lucky’s saddle, he took off towards the camp and the infirmary at a full sprint.

The trip was short, if not from the fact that my vision was going black with pain. Despite it, Bellamy’s body never touched the saddle.

Lucky all but bucked us off of him when we reached the infirmary, bending down to help me get off of him as quickly as possible. When my boots hit the ground, he took off after Clover, who was hovering by the stables and drinking water.

“She’s shot. Someone make sure she’s okay,” I commanded, not speaking to anyone in particular but knowing that someone would listen.

I walked into the infirmary without another word. I had to make sure my girl was okay.

“What the hell?” Freya shouted when she saw me carrying Bellamy’s limp form. A distant, sane part of me knew that Bellamy would appreciate how much Esme and Freya cared about her.

The part of me that was controlled by the Bond only saw Freya as an impediment to getting Bellamy help. I shoved past her to an open bed in the back corner, barking a command at a doctor I saw entering to get the fuck over here.

I laid Bellamy down as carefully as I could. When her midnight black hair spilled over the crisp white of the hospital bed, I finally broke.

I fell to my knees next to her bed, holding her hand in mine and resting my forehead on her wrist. Her weak pulse pattered against my forehead like a bird’s fluttering wings.

I could hear people moving around me, orders being barked and equipment being shoved around, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed in fear.

My hearing was just fine though. With my head down and my eyes closed, I could just make out the sounds of scissors cutting through her pant leg and of metal clanking around.

Nausea rolled through my stomach. They were about to cut into her perfect, soft skin. I didn’t give a shit about scars, but you only gained them through some sort of pain.

I squeezed Bellamy’s hand even harder, muttering pleas to God and the Goddess under my breath. At some point, someone’s hand came down on my shoulder.

When the hand passed over my shirt in comforting, if not a little awkward, strokes, I knew it was Esme. She was probably the one person I was okay with seeing me like this. The only person who knew what—

“She’s going to be okay.”

My head snapped up, needing to see the face of whoever said that. Needed to see with my own eyes that they were telling the truth.

The doctor—Jansen, if I recalled—was peering into the open gash in Bellamy’s leg. Seeing any part of her in such a mutilated state was enough to send rage pumping through my veins so quick, the only thing that stopped me from rising was the pressure of Esme’s hand on my shoulder.

“She was shot,” I said, if not to remind myself that this was my reality.

Jansen nodded her head. “Arrow, from the looks of it. Not the smartest of you to remove it, but she’ll be fine.”

I shook my head, trying to remember if I’d seen one near her. Maybe she’d ripped it out herself in a panic. “There wasn’t an arrow,” I said, my voice barely able to say the words it was so hoarse.

Jansen’s eyebrows pinched together. “It wasn’t near her?”

I could have missed it. My focus was so singular, making sure Bellamy was okay, that maybe there was one in the grass somewhere.

But I trusted her. I knew she was well-trained. She would have known not to remove it, even through panic. “No.”

Jansen hummed under her breath, all curiosity. The Bond was still thrashing, making me want to snap at the doctor that there was nothing curious about my Soul Mate being hurt, but I held my tongue.

I forced myself to watch as Jansen inspected Bellamy’s leg, even as she tucked her fingers inside the cuts to feel around. Nausea rolled and panic rose, but after a moment, Jansen leaned back, looking relieved.

“I need a scan to confirm, but…” Her eyebrows rose as she shook her head in disbelief. “She got really lucky. Whoever shot her managed to completely miss the bone and bypass her femoral artery. She’s lost a lot of blood, but even if she was out there all night, she would have survived.”

“Why isn’t she awake yet?” It must have been close to two hours. Too soon, probably, but the Bond was impatient. I was too.

Jansen pointed to the purple veins crackling up and down Bellamy’s leg. “Arrow was probably laced in poison. Common practice for a lot of Muli hunters. It speeds up the death so animals they hunt don’t have to go painfully.”

I opened my mouth to ask why the hell we were sitting here talking when Bellamy had been poisoned , but Jansen raised a hand to cut me off. “If she’s still breathing she’s fine. They probably used a lower dose.”

“Someone planned this,” Esme said, her voice soft. When I turned to her, she was looking at Bellamy with pinched brows.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. This tourniquet is tied very tightly. Tighter than Bellamy should have been able to manage in her state,” Jansen said as she grabbed a needle from next to her.

The thought of someone walking up to Bellamy’s unconscious form and putting their hands on her body made me absolutely feral with rage. The only thing stronger than it was my desire to stay right where I fucking was until she woke up. Then I’d find the fucker who did this and kill them.

I was about seventy percent sure I knew who it was anyway.

“It looks like she has some bruises forming. Do you know if Clover fell on her?” Jansen asked.

I shook my head, but said, “Maybe. Clover was injured. The arrow probably pierced her a little too.” Wait, the poison .

Esme was ten steps ahead of me. “I’ll go check on her.” She looked at Jansen. “They’d have the antidote in the stables?”

Jansen nodded, focusing back on Bellamy’s stitches.

“How bad is she going to scar?” I grumbled. Again, didn’t give a shit about it, save the fact that it would be a constant reminder of the pain Bellamy endured.

“I worked in cosmetic surgery before I was drafted.”

Well, that was that then.

My mind seemed to accept her statement as closure, as a final confirmation that I wasn’t about to watch Bellamy die right in front of me. My chest was still tight, wanting to focus on things like infection and blood loss and whether she might still not wake up.

My body, though, had finally had enough. The Bond’s strength fled my system, somewhat satiated, and allowed what it had been hiding to come back through.

I collapsed against the side of the bed in a heap of useless limbs and agonizing pain, now fully realizing what I’d done to myself.

It was Freya who came to help. “Done this before, big guy,” she said, dragging me with a huff away from the bed.

My hand wrapped around the wooden frame, refusing to go anywhere.

“So dramatic,” Freya chuckled under her breath. “I’m just moving you enough to put a pallet down.”

“M’kay,” I mumbled through the pain, my vision going white and spotty from it. I must have done a real number on my system. My arms felt like they were on fire and my chest felt like each rib had separated from the muscles covering it.

Freya grumbled and commanded me to move as she arranged a pallet down on the ground, then arranged my limbs on it like a child.

In any other state, I would have been disgruntled by that fact, but I could barely see straight.

When Freya forced me to fully lay down, arranging a cushion under my head, all my senses flooded into darkness and I passed out, right as she stuck a needle into my forearm.