Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(64)

Fantastic. He has backup.

“Nope, we can’t have you cheating like that.” Dolph set a hand on my tree and peered up at me, his eyes glowing. “Come down, hunter.”

“Do you seriously think I’m that stupid?” I called down to him. “Or is it just that you are so stupid you think that’ll work?”

Dolph laughed. “No, I know exactly how your mind works. So come down, or else my friend here will go pay a visit to downtown Timber Ridge.”

Another wolf stepped out of the shadows—this one was a woman with rusty brown hair and a mean look in her green eyes. She seemed already half feral as she snarled at me, and my heart fell.

She could tear through an entire restaurant or pub before the Pack realizes what’s going on. And I left my cellphone in my backpack, so I can’t call Aeric or Wyatt.

I seriously needed to get a Bluetooth headset. Or maybe one of those fancy phone watches. Hands free devices were underrated.

“Come down, Phillipa,” Dolph repeated in a harder voice. “Unless you want human blood on your hands.”

He has to be bluffing. Greyson would legally be allowed to kill him if he did something like that, and the supernatural community in general would stamp the Pack out for doing such a thing.

But…his eyes had the same glassy look as the wolf I’d fought.

If he was taking wolfsbane, there was a good chance he was half feral and wouldn’t think the consequences through.

I can’t risk it.

I bit my lip, then started to pick my way down out of the tree, going as slowly as I could to buy time.

When I reached the lowest branch, Dolph meandered up to my tree, like an idiot, and peered up at me. “If you don’t hurry—”

I boosted myself off my branch and landed on top of Dolph, grinding the heel of my right foot into his face. I pushed off him and landed in a crouch as he staggered backward, shaking off the force I’d hit him with.

His lips curled up and he growled. “You—”

I rammed the pommel of my dagger into his throat, striking as hard as I could and cutting off his words to a pained gurgle. When he staggered I tried to hook my leg behind his knees and topple him, but he was too heavy for me to push over, and wasn’t quite unsteady enough to fall on his own.

Apparently, I needed to hit him even harder.

I tapped my hunter magic—which made my senses pulse to life as I narrowed in on Dolph with a predator’s intensity.

Dolph tried to peer at his backup. “Kash, don’t just—”

Did the throat, eyes next.

Flipping my daggers so I secured them in my fingers and freed up my thumbs, I rammed my thumbs into his eyeballs.

He reared back and batted at me, hitting me in the shoulder with enough force to send me staggering backward, but I’d pressed hard enough that his eyes were watering and he couldn’t see well.

As a werewolf, Dolph could take a lot more damage than a human, so if I didn’t stab him and make him bleed out, I could be as brutal as necessary to get him down. But it was risky for me to fight him, which was why I needed to use every advantage I could—including forgoing the usual back and forth dialog and insults fighters like to exchange. I needed to put all my focus into fighting and strike whenever he was unguarded—and talking.

“You!” he snarled.

Sight down for now, I need to hinder his hearing next.

Still holding my daggers wedged between my fingers so they pointed away from my palms, I pulled my hands back and swung at both of Dolph’s ears with the bones of my wrist.

If I was incredibly lucky and hit him at the right angle, I’d be able to rupture his eardrums. Even if I didn’t succeed it’d make his ears ring—which was enough to dull the senses of a wolf like Dolph and open him up to another attack.

I smashed his ears with my wrists, using all the force I could put into my swings.

He released a high-pitched yelp, but when I shifted my weight so I could knee him in the gut—hopefully finally toppling him, I felt his minion—Kash, apparently—finally move.

She tried to grab me, but she burned bright in my hunter senses, so I lunged out of the way in the nick of time.

I kept my eyes on Dolph, but when I felt two more wolves draw in at a rambling pace, I knew I was outnumbered. (There was no way any Northern Lakes wolf would lollygag at the pace they were moving, so they had to be from the Low Marsh Pack.)

I switched so I held both of my daggers in one hand, then grabbed a sturdy branch and flung it in the direction of the incoming wolves.

One of them was stupid enough to walk directly into it. It smacked him in the skull, snapping his head backward, but although he cursed, he stayed standing.

The other wolf gaped stupidly at me—he didn’t have the glassy eyed look of his Alpha, but that didn’t matter much. He’d do whatever Dolph ordered.

I felt Kash move behind me, so I spun around and stabbed my silver daggers at her.

She wasn’t quite so far gone that her instincts had dulled to the sense of silver, and she threw herself to the side, dodging me.

“Get her!” Dolph roared, still struggling to see through his tears.

Why do wolves always have to fight in Packs when they’re already so difficult to fight one-on-one?

Lumberer #1 and #2 finally stirred behind me, coming at me from an angle.

I tried to flee forward, but Kash managed to grab a lock of my white hair—I knew I should have braided it—and yanked me backward.