The Defiled Saga BUNDLE: Books 1-3 by Hadley S.L

Author:Hadley, S.L. [Hadley, S.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-10-21T07:00:00+00:00

***

"John."

Groaning softly, John opened his eyes. Judging by how exhausted he felt, he'd only been asleep an hour or two since the alpha had woken him. Now, as before, a small pair of amber eyes peered at him through the wooden lattice of his cell door.

"John!" the voice hissed again.

He sat up so quickly that he bashed his head against the branches.

"Friday?" he whispered back, heart hammering.

"John, yes!" Friday murmured. The relief was palpable in her voice. "I here! Fast!"

Friday's eyes vanished from the door and John pressed his face against it, searching urgently. When he couldn't find her, he planted his shoulder and heaved. The wood held, however, and all he managed was a few small scrapes where branches dug into his skin.

A scratching noise caught his attention and he stepped back, leaning against the tree's trunk. Something small and metallic slid through the narrow crack between the door and the dirt. Heart pounding, John crouched and picked it up almost reverently.

His laspistol.

Relief flooded him so strongly that he felt like giggling. He didn't dare risk it, though. If the avians caught Friday, they'd have the one piece of leverage they needed to force his surrender. If she could manage to escape undetected, he'd have everything he needed to make his escape.

Something else slipped under the door and bumped against his foot. Frowning in confusion, he scooped it up as well. As soon as he felt the plastic, he knew exactly what it was.

Friday had brought him food.

For some reason, the small gesture almost reduced him to tears. He breathed deeply, struggling to ignore the burning tightness in his throat. She'd been left behind, a wounded, waterlogged mess, and she'd still thought about his needs.

If he got out of this--when he got out of this--he was going to show her just how much she meant to him.

"John!" Friday hissed, eyes peeking through the door once more. "I go. Tomorrow. Fight safe. I help. Tomorrow!"

"Friday, wait!" John muttered. He leaned forward, snaking his fingers through the makeshift bars of his cell. "Thank you."

Friday flashed him a weary smile and rested the claws of one wing atop his fingers. Then she removed it and nuzzled them with her cheek.

"Tomorrow," she whispered again.

Turning, she leapt away. In a split-second, she'd vanished back amid the darkness and the trees. John stared after her for a long time, until the gurgling of his stomach forced his attention elsewhere. Between the recent violence and his own fatigue, he'd almost forgotten how hungry he was.

Clutching his laspistol tightly, John squatted down and began to prepare the meal with one hand. As he waited for the contents to rehydrate, he stared at the door to his cell, planning and waiting.

Friday had given him his life back. And no one--no one--was ever going to take it from him again.

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