Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(22)

I needed to buy some of the special bath products the wolves sold in the shop.

The Pack didn’t outright demand I use their products, but they were so sensitive to scents and would endlessly nip at me if I used something that upset their noses. It was just easier to buy the shampoo and conditioner two particularly enterprising packmates made.

(When my hair started going prematurely white—a genetic consolation gift from my dad since I apparently didn’t inherit any magic from his family line—I initially dyed it brown. I never made that mistake again as the entire Pack complained for a solid month about the stench of my hair every time I saw them. That was why I was rocking white hair at the tender age of twenty-three.)

I poked my head into the gift shop, trying to spy out the shelf we had dedicated to bath products, when the door jangled open.

“Pip!” Shania called.

I swung around with concern. “You’re back already? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Aeric said. He crowded the doorway behind his girlfriend. “But the hunters just got here! You should come check it out!”

“The ones to investigate the Low Marsh wolf’s death?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Shania confirmed. “Don’t you want to see them?”

I hesitated. “We can’t leave the place unstaffed.”

“You can stand outside the door and see the hunters from the front stoop. They parked out on the street. Come on!” Shania darted back through the door, Aeric disappearing with her.

I glanced back at my desk before following after her, squinting when I stepped into the blinding sunlight and the hot, muggy air.

I had to wait for my eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness and shield my eyes before I could see the line of hunter cars—sufficiently cliché black SUVs, four of them.

The hunters, dressed in muted browns and grays with empty holsters strapped to their chests and thighs, piled out of the SUVs. It looked like there were thirteen or fourteen hunters, and they all were of varying age and size, though I was pretty sure they had to be from the same family, because there were similarities in the nuanced way they moved, and their expressions.

“Aeric said they’re led by Amos Fletching. Do you know him?” Shania asked.

My hand strayed to my thigh, reaching for my thigh bandolier of daggers I typically wore when practicing. Of course, it wasn’t there. “Nope. I haven’t been in touch with any hunter families besides the Quillons since I was adopted.”

“Not surprising.” Aeric frowned as he held Shania’s hand and swung it slightly.

I watched the hunters clump together, talking to each other in lowered tones as they looked around main street. The drivers of the SUVs all circled around one man who was about medium height with strong shoulders and deep-set eyes.

“But if I had to guess, I’d say he’s Amos.” I pointed to the guy with deeply set eyes. “It seems like everyone is checking in with him.”

He nodded at something one of the drivers said, then pointed to town hall. Two of the hunters peeled off and headed toward the stately brick building, confirming my guess.

“They’re different from you,” Shania said. “I thought they’d be more like you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Shania jangled her keys. “They have a very different air to them with their matching outfits and teamwork.”

“Hunters are supposed to work in teams,” I said. “It’s the only way you can hunt a wolf without getting yourself killed.”

Aeric raised his eyebrows at me. “You almost took out one. That’s why they’re here.”

“I was lucky help arrived in time, or I probably would have died if I hadn’t been able to lure the wolf back to the trees,” I said.

“I guess.” Shania watched the hunters for a few more seconds. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re different because you were taught by wolves.”

“Yup. That’s gotta be it. We are excellent teachers,” Aeric said.

I ignored his smug tone. “Believe me, I am all too aware of my hunter limitations. I am a lot more like other hunters than I am like a werewolf.”

The prickling of my calf where Rio had bitten me good the last time there’d been a Pack hunting session was a reminder of that.

The hunter I’d picked out as Amos Fletching looked up and down main street, his hands settled on his hips with an overconfident expression that made my figurative hackles rise.

He glanced in the direction of the welcome center and studied Shania, Aeric, and me.

“Do you think we should wave?” Shania asked. “It would be neighborly, but he looks almost as sour as Mayor Pearl.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” I said.

Amos Fletching slipped his phone out of his pocket and tapped its screen for a few moments, then looked back at me.

He strolled across the street without looking for traffic, adjusting the wide brim of his bush hat as he meandered toward us.

Oh yeah. This guy definitely thinks he’s the leader, and that he’s here to take over. Good luck, buddy. Timber Ridge is ruled by Greyson. He’ll teach you that in a way you won’t soon forget.

“Phillipa Sabre?” He studied me with hard eyes that were an unforgiving shade of brown that was so dark they looked like glassy black marbles, then glanced back at his phone.