Greyson faced Amos—we’d almost caught up to the rat. “Get used to it.”
“Really? Why?”
Greyson picked up a small rock off the lawn and threw it, nailing Amos in the back of his left knee. He fell with a pained shout. “Got him. Are you ready?”
“Oh yeah.” I jogged out in front of Greyson, reaching Amos just as he struggled to stand. “It’s over, Amos. You’ve lost—and now you’ll have to pay the consequences of all your insane theories.”
Amos growled and swung around, lunging at me.
Greyson caught him by the wrists and shook him like a rag doll so he flopped to the ground and had his arms stretched over his head. “Resign yourself, hunter.”
“Never.” Amos peered up at us, his beady eyes angry. “I know I’m right about all of this. You’re using something—something dark and illegal,” he snarled. “You can’t hide from the likes of me. The Fletchings are the best investigative hunters there are in the Midwest!”
“No, actually,” I said. “You’re quite possibly the worst investigator I’ve ever met.”
Amos growled, but stilled when I grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet with a strength I didn’t normally have.
“And I know that, because you are so fundamentally wrong about me it’s laughable.” My voice rapidly dropped in pitch as my anger returned. “All those times when you asked me how I could side with werewolves—who killed my parents—you proved how ignorant you really were.”
Amos tried to spit in my face, but I moved my head fast enough to avoid it. “You traitor—” he started.
“My parents weren’t killed by wolves, Fletching.” I yanked him closer, barely holding back from decking him again. “They were killed by hunters.” I let him go and shoved him down.
Greyson released his arms and stepped back, letting me take over.
I planted a foot on Amos’s chest and leaned in when he tried to stand. “Friendly fire,” I spat. “It was an accident. There was a miscommunication about the location of a feral wolf, and the Quillons killed them both. It’s why they’ve helped me all these years.”
Amos flapped his mouth open and shut, looking for words.
The years of sorrow still crackled in me, and I ground my heel into his chest. “It was a famous case, and somehow you—Mr. Mighty Investigator—didn’t hear of it, or bother to look into my history before coming here?”
I laughed. “The wolves have my loyalty, Amos, because they took me in when the hunter community did their worst to me. Only the Quillons tried to help, which is why I still respect them despite what happened. And now, your whole family is going to pay…because you didn’t bother to check why a hunter was living with wolves.”
I kicked him in the side of his head, carefully aiming for a knock out hit. It was a dirty move, but I didn’t feel it was necessary to play nice with the creep who intended to kill my friends.
Amos slumped to the ground, so addled from the kick he couldn’t even groan.
I stood up straight and surveyed the rest of the fight—the wolves had subdued most of the hunters by now.
I could feel Greyson’s eyes on my back, so I slapped on a smile as I turned to face him. “I feel a lot better now!”
Greyson flicked his eyes from Amos to me. “We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Your hunter magic.”
Before he could say anything else, six police cars—which I was pretty sure was all the police cars the Timber Ridge police force had—zoomed into the meadow from the gravel road, scattering pebbles and rock as they slammed to a stop.
I wiped sweat from my forehead and exhaled. “Ah, good. Teresa made it to City Hall! Woah.” My legs abruptly gave out underneath me, and I would have fallen down if Greyson hadn’t caught me.
“Careful. I don’t think the magic can completely replace all the blood you lost,” he said.
“It feels weird—you being all caring and thoughtful, I mean,” I said. “Not even a snarky comment to accompany that. Hey!” I went through the motions of protesting when Greyson picked me up bridal style again.
“Relax, Lady Hunter,” Greyson said. “It’s this, or you can crawl.”
I screwed my mouth up tight and frowned at him, but hooked my arms around his neck and enjoyed the ride.
The police climbed out of the cars, the nearest officer—a tall guy with a mop of blond hair—crouched by Original Jack and young Jack, checking in to see if they were hurt.