“The slayer!” The werewolf I’d gotten in the bicep had his eyes clenched shut with pain—his words were barely audible as he visibly clenched his jaw as well.
The werewolf I’d shot in the thigh released a deep guttural groan. “She’s—ugh—she’s out h-here.” He was attempting to drag himself back into the alleyway, but the pain was so bad he mashed his face into the ground a couple of times.
I pressed myself against the ladder, holding my breath in hopes they wouldn’t notice me.
“Do you have visuals?” one of the hidden mercenaries shouted.
“No! Or we wouldn’t have gotten shot!” The wolf I’d hit in the bicep snarled.
I heard lowered voices in the alleyway—the mercenaries must be plotting, but my hearing wasn’t nearly good enough to pick up anything they said.
The mercenaries crept out of the alleyway with their eyes swinging back and forth, tracing over the street.
I waited until I couldn’t miss, then squeezed the trigger.
The wolf closest to me went down—I’d gotten him on the hip.
“Up!” he shouted. “She’s up!”
The last werewolf standing swore vigorously as he darted back into the alleyway, and I flicked the safety on my gun before I started climbing down the ladder.
Cover’s blown. Time to get down. Since there’s just one enemy left standing, I don’t have to be as sneaky. And where is the team?
I’d been hoping they’d pop out of their cover with most of the threats nullified and get the werewolves from behind, but there’d been no movement in the alleyway—at least none that I could hear.
My feet touched the final rung on the ladder. I glanced at the alleyway before I holstered my gun so I could grip the ladder with both hands.
I was in the process of lowering myself—my feet dangling in the air—when a bang ripped through the air and I felt a moment of hot intense pain in my shoulder.
To my shame, the sudden pain made my hands slip and I fell from the ladder. Too unprepared to land with a roll, I hit the asphalt with an aching splat—my side and hip hitting first before I slammed my head into the sidewalk.
Oh, that hurt.
My ears rang and the pain in my head radiated so sharply I no longer felt the gunshot wound. Instead, my stomach rolled with nausea.
That… that’s a concussion. Pretty sure.
The pain rang through my head making my stomach hurt worse, and for a moment I couldn’t see—there was just darkness and hot knifing pain.
“Got her! Bogey down!” the mercenary’s voice was distorted as if I was hearing him through water.
My thoughts were slow and it was hard to concentrate with the persistent ringing noise, but I managed to turn myself on my side. As my vision started to clear I saw the werewolf—still holding his handgun—stalking towards me.
Up. I have to get up! I’m a sitting duck like this!
My fingers twitched—they were numb, but they still responded as I shakily pulled my gun from my holster.
The werewolf was on me before I could raise my gun. He yanked my mask off, using his brutal werewolf strength to rip it off regardless of the fasteners and toss it aside. He then pushed my hood down, revealing my red hair. His left hand was closing around my throat as he held me high enough that my feet dangled over the ground, but close enough that I could smell his acrid breath.
Pain bloomed in my throat and my air was cut off. I had seconds to act before I’d pass out.
“I’m so glad I caught you. I’m going to make you regret all the trouble you gave us.” The werewolf’s smile turned cruel as he dug his fingers into my aching throat.
I squeezed my fingers, confirming he hadn’t bothered to yank my gun from my grasp.
Sloppy.
I slammed my pistol upside his head and he dropped me, collapsing to his knees.
I landed on my feet with a stagger, my limbs still numb as I was more and more sure I was suffering from a concussion. Follow through! Follow. Through. I had to remind myself as the world twirled around me.
I kicked the wolf on the side of the head. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed—most likely also a member of the Recently Concussed Club.
I flicked my handgun safety off and kept the gun out as I took a deep greedy breath. I could only spare a moment to brace myself before I dug into a pocket and pulled out my cellphone.
My throat squeezed when I saw the cracked screen—I must have landed on it when I fell from the ladder or maybe even when I rolled to avoid getting hit by the truck. I tried to wake it up, but the screen remained black.