Page 77 of Mountain Shadow

“Get out, Sarah!” Jens shouted.

He didn’t have the chance to say anything else before the man pounced on him like a linebacker. They rolled on the floor, each one trying to get the upper hand. The man moved like a boxer, his strength surprising. He knew how to use his bulk. Jens caught an elbow to his midriff. He grunted at the sharp pain, but a couple of cracked ribs weren’t going to stop him.

Jens held on tight to a sleeve, cursing when it ripped, leaving him holding on to the piece of fabric. His attacker used the chance to get the upper hand, straddling him. A fist the size of a ham crashed into his face.

Jens heard—and felt—his nose crack. He grunted, absorbing the pain.

Behind him, Sarah screamed. “Get off him!”

What is she still doing here?

Jens sat up, bringing his head tight against his attacker’s chest to remove his range and wrapping his arms around the large man’s torso. His hands moved instinctively up to the man’s shoulders, grabbing on hard as he pushed his feet to the ground. He wrapped his left arm around the attacker’s arm and shifted his hips hard, rolling them both.

His attacker was now on the ground, snarling like a rabid dog.

Time to end this.

Jens grabbed the man’s head and slammed it onto the hard stone floor—once, twice, three times—until the man fell limp beneath him. Then once more for good measure. For the first time in his life, the thought of inflicting pain on an unarmed human being didn’t trouble Jens. Part of him wanted to keep going, wanted to pulverize the man who’d dared hurt Sarah and Kat.

A small whimper behind him stopped him.

Sarah.

His body was a collection of aches and pains, but none of that mattered. Just Sarah. He turned to face her. She shivered, naked, her body swaying with what he hoped was just a combination of fear and exhaustion. He could see two large bruises on her face, but no other obvious injuries.

Jens took a step towards her, then stopped. She’d been through an incredible trauma—he still didn’t know how badly the man had hurt her, but Jens knew he’d rather die than do anything that might scare her.

“Sarah,” he said gently. His voice sounded funny to his own ears, a product of his newly broken nose.

“You came for me,” she cried, flying into his arms. He took her weight easily, even as his ribs complained.

There was so much he wanted to say to her, but for now, Sarah was alive, and that was all that mattered.

She shivered in his arms. Her body was cold to the touch—too cold.

“We need to get some clothes on you,” he said. He took off his jacket and unzipped his sweatshirt, taking it off and quickly bundling her inside it. It reached to her thighs. She moaned in pleasure.

“Better?” he asked, rubbing her back.

She gave him a small smile. “It smells like you.”

“Let’s get you out of here, Sarah,” he said.

“Jens, I—”

A noise behind him had him shifting again. He realized his mistake immediately. He shouldn’t have assumed the man was out for the count.

The man was standing. Blood flowed freely out of his nose and ears, but he was standing.

How is he standing?

The man roared and lunged for him—no, not for him. The man lunged for Sarah.

“You are mine!”

Something small glinted in his outstretched hand.

He’s got another knife.