Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

Through the trees, she saw the soldier still striding through the forest.

But his forward progress didn’t last long.

The attack was so fast, so overpowering, that she gasped. Daniel Joseph somehow stole up behind the uniformed figure and leaped on the other man’s back as if he were spring-loaded. With his body nearly parallel to the ground, his heavy arms shot around and locked into place—then he wrenched his target off the ground, using momentum to his advantage to slam the other man facedown. There wasn’t a second of recovery time. Before the other guy could react, Daniel put his knee at the lower back and his forearm on the nape, and the soldier—or whatever the hell he was—became completely incapacitated.

Daniel leaned down and said something in the man’s ear—

And then he ripped off the hat, grabbed a fistful of hair, and yanked the skull up. Wrapping his free arm around the man’s neck, he gripped his own wrist—and began to pull back. Pull back hard.

So that the crook of Daniel’s elbow locked in like a vise on the soldier’s windpipe.

“What are you doing?” Lydia said as she jumped forward.

Running across to him, she didn’t care who else heard her. “Stop—stop!”

Daniel didn’t look over. Didn’t appear to have even heard her. He stared straight ahead, the veins popping out in his neck, his forehead, no doubt his whole body. He wasn’t even breathing.

Just like his victim.

The soldier underneath him was gaping, his face ruddy as he strained for air, his black-gloved fingers clawing at the iron bar that was crushing his airway.

“Stop it,” Lydia hollered. “You’re going to kill him!”

She grabbed for Daniel’s arm and started yanking. But it was like trying to disengage something that was bolted on. Nothing moved.

Digging her heels in, she leaned back and grunted. “Let him go—”

The clicking noise the other man made was terrible. So was the flapping as he beat with decreasing strength against his killer.

“No, no!”

Lydia’s feet slipped out from under her and she dropped to her knees, even though it gave her less leverage, especially as she slid on the pine needles. As she strained, tears squeezed out onto her cheeks, and she had a detached thought along the lines of how could this be happening? How had she gone from meeting with C.P. Phalen to fighting against Daniel’s superhuman strength as he killed—

All at once it was over, Daniel releasing his hold and slipping his arm free of Lydia’s grip at the same time, the dead man going limp and falling face-first into the ground, Lydia flying backward and landing hard on her ass.

“You killed him!” She scrambled forward and shoved at Daniel. “What did you do!”

“Shh—”

As she hit at him, slapping his head and shoulders, he caught her wrists and held her off. “He’s alive—Jesus, Lydia, will you relax—”

“He’s dead—”

“No, he’s not.” Daniel pushed her back and rolled the man over. “See for yourself. He’s fucking breathing.”

Lydia wiped her forearm across her eyes. The man—soldier, whatever—was … actually, yes, his chest was going up and down. Slowly, but evenly—and his color was still florid from the struggle.

“You tried to kill him,” she moaned.

“No, I wanted to render him unconscious.” Daniel pointed off in the direction of where she’d parked the hatchback. “Go back and get in your car. He knows where you are—he’s after you.”

“What?”

“He’s here for you.”

Lydia shook her head to clear it. “Wait, how do you know I was being stalked?”

“I don’t have time to explain.” With a vicious yank, he ripped open the front of the black jacket. “And no, I’m not going to kill anybody—I just want to give you a chance to get away.”

With that, he began to pull weapons off the man: Two handguns. A lethal-looking silver-bladed knife. Clips of bullets.

Lydia’s eyes bulged. “This is over for me.” She patted around her pockets for her cell phone. “I’m calling the sheriff—”

“Call the National Guard, I don’t care.” Daniel moved down and patted the pockets of the legs. “Just do it from your fucking car as you drive away from here. Go! Before he wakes up.”

As Lydia took out Daniel’s phone instead of her own, she checked on the man. He was still breathing.

“I don’t know who this is.” Daniel moved down the calves and removed another knife from the left ankle. “But he’s dangerous as hell, unless you’re unfamiliar with what all this metal I’m taking off of him is used for. And if you don’t want me to kill him, you need to get away, now.”

“Come with me,” she blurted. “We can call together—”

“No, I have to stay here and make sure he doesn’t follow you.” Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know what you did or who you called or—shit, anything else. The one thing I’m clear on is that he knows where you are—”

Lydia stood up. “Just leave him here. Let’s go—”

“There’s a tracker. On the bottom of your car.” As Lydia recoiled, Daniel glanced around again. “I found it this morning when I got stuck out on the trail. It’s a magnetic-mounted GPS tracker behind the chassis on the driver’s side. That’s why I think whoever this is is after you. I think he’s following the signal your car is letting out—and yes, I was going to tell you. Now give me my phone back and go. Get safe. Please.”