My heart throbbed painfully in my chest, and I swear time slowed down as I considered my options.
Nine hunters—maybe seven if Scarlett and Radcliff don’t fight me. But there are ten more inside. I can’t do anything against those odds—they’ll beat me for sure.
And by beat, I meant it literally. Amos wasn’t going to react without violence if I tried to mess up his plans. I’d maybe survive, but maybe I wouldn’t.
My gaze flickered to the wolves.
Would I be willing to be throttled within an inch of my life, for a Pack that treats me as an outsider—for a Pack that makes reports on me?
Wyatt was as close to the weave of the trap as he could come without touching it when he met my gaze and shook his head.
Yes.
The answer throbbed in my chest.
Because Mama Dulce’s hugs, and Papa Santos’s laughter was real. Because Wyatt’s jokes and Aeric’s grins, and the stupid Pomeranian Puppy Power-ups are real. If Greyson is reporting on me to Harka, it’s for a reason. I might not be Pack, but at least I know that I’m valued.
Wyatt must have seen something in my face. “Pip, no! Don’t do it!”
I ignored him as I shifted my weight to my heels as the hunters realized maybe they should drag me off like Amos had ordered.
“PIP! Don’t!” Wyatt shouted, his voice deep with anguish.
I ignored him as I casually shifted my right arm. The hunter holding my right arm had a very loose grasp on my wrist—he wasn’t even watching me, he was gawking at Scarlett and Radcliff.
Perfect.
I lined up my fist so it was under his chin.
“Pip!” Wyatt yelled.
I glanced at the hunters, confirming their locations, then punched upward, nailing the one hunter in the chin.
He toppled, unable to shout as he curled up in a ball.
Using my free hand, I grabbed the other hunter’s throat, digging my fingers in so I triggered her gag reflex.
She let go of me and dropped to her knees in a combination of gagging and coughing. I helped her to the ground by slamming my knee into her side.
Finally, some of the other hunters were starting to take notice. They turned around and gaped at me, looking from the two hunters I’d downed to me with confused expressions.
They were still staring as I sprinted to the next one. He was wide open—didn’t even have a hand on a weapon. I formed a V with the fingers and thumb of my right hand, stiffened my arm, then slammed my hand into the upper part of his neck.
He gagged and coughed, and I was able to push him over after applying a knee strike to the groin.
The thing about fighting is if you know where to hit, you don’t actually need a lot of force. And the throat? Super fragile.
That’s three…
I needed to get to Amos and take him down—before they called for backup. I locked eyes on him, and felt my hunter magic bubble as it kicked into high gear, giving me a hefty surge of adrenaline and intensifying my senses so I was more aware of all the hunters and their movements.
“Don’t just stand there, stop her!” Amos scoffed. He lost that attitude fast, however, as I closed in on him.
He back up so fast his netted hat fell off, but he couldn’t shuffle backward faster than I could run.
I grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward. Using my free fist like a hammer, I slammed it into the side of his head.
One of the hunters standing near the trap fitted a metal whistle to his lips and blew—which was almost certainly a signal for reinforcements.
I could sense another hunter coming up behind me, so I swung around—dragging Amos with me—and pushed him into the incoming hunter.
She stumbled as she tried to stabilize her groaning, swearing, staggering leader, occupying both of her hands.
I jabbed my fingers into her eyes.
She cried out as she tried to stagger away, blinded and half tripping on Amos.
I dug two of my fingers into her jugular notch—the dip between the collarbones—which made her throat tighten, and she started coughing and gagging as she hobbled away from me.
So far, this is a lot easier than I expected. These guys are wide open—and so slow!
I heard the trill of a blade sliding out of its scabbard.
I just had to think it, didn’t I?
I’d been avoiding using my own daggers and gun in hopes that it would keep them from resorting to weapons. Apparently, they felt my throat grabs were lethal enough to warrant it.
The hunters were finally starting to move, leaving the trap—and Amelia and the Jacks—as they closed in on me.
“Let go!” a hunter growled somewhere behind my back.