Chapter 21
Greyson
I growled at a hunter, peeling my lips back from my teeth as I slunk up to him, crouched so I could jump if necessary.
The hunter stumbled over his feet, but didn’t shoot at me—which was what I was trying to avoid.
They have mostly ranged guns, not pistols. If I stay close to them, their guns are too cumbersome to quickly reposition.
That was the only reason why I wasn’t slumped over with Ember and the others, artificially unconscious.
Four of them stood in front of me, reeking of sweat and fear.
I howled, then chased after them, growling and snapping.
They ran like scared sheep, bolting and tripping over one another as they tried to flee.
We ran past the trap they’d set up for the Pack. I recognized it as something hunter made. Hunter trap spells are unique in that they have a net-like appearance to them, and while they didn’t operate as shields—they couldn’t stop anything magical from getting through—they were excellent physical barriers. Even the strongest of wolves wouldn’t be able to bust out of one that was properly prepared by several hunters and anchored—as these unfortunately were.
The hunters had then released a fae sleeping spell inside the trap, which had knocked out every wolf they’d caught.
I hadn’t been with the Pack when they were first captured—I was just slightly behind them as I’d stopped to sniff Pip before heading out.
I’d been able to attack the hunters from behind, but there were twenty-three of them.
I wasn’t going to beat those numbers.
Instead I’d done my best to split the group around the trap—making it harder for the hunters to get off a shot at me and not hit one of their own.
Not that they didn’t try.
A bullet narrowly missed my flank, and the hunter—who wielded a rifle—swore as he tried to track me.
I rammed into him—knocking him over—then grabbed his throat and crunched down. I didn’t savage his throat, but I used enough force to deal damage to his windpipe.
He flopped, uselessly trying to get air, and I jumped at the next hunter.
She tried to stab me with a silver edged dagger, but it was easy to dodge and ram her over with my wolf strength.
For wolves, a downed enemy was a defeated enemy. It made it much harder for them to fight back.
I grabbed her wrist with my mouth and bit down.
She cried and dropped her dagger.
I grabbed her hand next and crunched down again, likely breaking a few of her fingers.
She screamed in pain, and I knew she wouldn’t be picking up her weapon again.
I dropped her limb and leaped over her as she cried, curling up in a ball.
I locked eyes on the next hunter I needed to target, but most of my concentration switched to my ears for a moment.
I didn’t hear any wolves coming for us—or any shouts.
I don’t think help is coming. Pip would have felt the trap snap into place, and Amos isn’t here when these are very obviously his hunters. Which means there’s trouble back home as well.
If I wanted to free the Pack, I’d need to get to wherever the other fight was and find Pip—she’d know how to disassemble the traps.
But how do I best tackle this so they don’t hurt any of the knocked out Pack members? I already know the likelihood that I survive this isn’t good, but the Pack needs to make it.
I howled, and tried leading the hunters away from the trap. If I was going down, I was going to try to take out as many as possible, and keep them away from the rest of the Pack as long as possible.
Chapter 22
Pip
Ready? I texted the message to Original Jack and waited, holding my breath.
The reply flickered across my lock screen. Ready.
I put my phone away in my deep pockets, exhaled, and rolled my shoulders back.
This will be a cinch. I fool wolves all the time, and they can smell fear in me. Distracting a bunch of hunters is totally doable.
I checked my weapons—my gun was still in its holster, and both my daggers were sheathed—then strode out into the open meadow, doing my best to look irritated, but not hostile.
“Amos!” I hollered as I stomped across the lawn. “What do you think you’re doing?”
I blew past a hunter, who couldn’t seem to figure out if he was supposed to stop me or not.
“Hunter Sabre,” Radcliff called. I’m certain he did it on purpose, because as soon as he named me the hunters eyeing me relaxed and went back to watching the wolves.
It’s nice that they’re not going to shoot at me, but I wish they’d pay less attention to their trap so Amelia and the Jacks can move.