Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(79)

My throat squeezed shut when Aeric slunk off, momentarily revealing why some of the wolves had stayed human.

Hector was limply laid across the ground. It looked like they were trying to elevate his head.

The trap was pretty far away, so I couldn’t see how badly he was hurt, but he didn’t seem to be gushing blood—a legitimate worry after hearing that gunshot.

Did they catch everyone? Were Greyson and the Pack caught?

I chewed on my lip as I considered my options.

Greyson and the wolves wouldn’t have cellphones on them, and I didn’t want to whistle and give away my position until I had a plan.

But what can I do against nine hunters? Maybe I should backtrack and try to find Greyson?

Something moved at the back of the meadow, and I saw Amelia and Teresa hurtling across it, running from the lodge, toward the trees.

The hunters saw them, too. One whistled then used hand gestures and pointed at the two.

Amos peeled his attention from his phone long enough to give an order. “Leave them,” he shouted to his hunter. “We do this to guard humans. They’ll be grateful, eventually.”

At least his hate-filled logic means the humans will all be safe.

Even so, my frantically beating heart kicked up again.

Because if Amos knew they were humans, it meant he’d been watching the Pack members, habits, and families. He’d been planning for this kind of thing for a long time.

Stop it. I need to be calm. Getting frantic isn’t going to help anyone.

I forced myself to take a deep breath, then released the branch slowly—so no one would notice the movement—and prowled deeper into the forest as I tried to figure out what to do—or who to call.

First, I should try to meet up with Amelia and Teresa—maybe they can tell me what happened.

I picked my way around the meadow, heading in the general direction they’d disappeared in.

They were easy to find—I just had to follow the sound of Teresa’s crying, and the blatant trail they’d left—and they weren’t alone.

They were huddled at the base of an enormous tree, whispering with Young Jack and Original Jack.

“Teresa.” I spoke before I emerged from the trees, hoping I wouldn’t startle them too badly.

“Pip!” Teresa—her face red and smeared with tears—latched on to me, ringing her arms around my waist. “Pip!” she repeated, her voice turning into a wail.

Amelia was shaking, her hand grasping the hem of Young Jack’s grass-stained T-shirt, while Young Jack was practically vibrating with anger.

Original Jack was attempting to make a call on his cellphone, his face creased with worry. When he turned to me, some of the strain eased around his eyes and he lowered his phone. “Pip.”

I rubbed Teresa’s back, trying to soothe her. “What happened?”

Young Jack shook his head. “The hunters called Hector out—Amos said they were leaving. Remy and Forrest came out with Hector, and the hunters started purposely insulting them and trying to rile them up.”

“They held out admirably—I believe they learned from watching you, Pip.” Original Jack glanced down at his phone. “But the rest of the Pack came out, and the hunters sprang a trap.”

“On the front lawn,” Young Jack spat. “How could we not have seen them set it?”

“Hunter traps are portable,” I said. “I’m sure they made it somewhere else and then transported it in. What happened to Hector?”

“He was starting to rally everyone.” Amelia wiped tears from her eyes, smudging her eyeliner, and glanced at Teresa. “And, um…”

“They shot him!” Teresa sobbed. “They shot Dad!”

My hands tightened convulsively around Teresa’s shoulders, and the hot fire of anger burst to life in my chest, eating away at some of my fear. “How bad is it?”

“They used silver bullets,” Original Jack said. “They didn’t hit him in the heart or skull. Given enough time he’ll heal up. But…” He glanced at Teresa and didn’t finish.

It’s unlikely Amos will give him enough time to heal. There’s no way they’re rounding up all the wolves for something innocent.

“They’re searching the lodge,” Young Jack said. “I don’t know for what. When Jack and I resisted, they threw us out.”

“Teresa and I didn’t fight, so they left us alone—until we decided to run for it,” Amelia said. “They ripped apart Greyson’s office, but didn’t seem to find what they were looking for, so they moved on to all parts of the lodge when we left.”

“Wait, you said they? How many hunters were inside, searching?” I asked.

Amelia nervously chewed on the nail of her thumb. “Maybe ten of them?”

“What?” I shook my head. “This is impossible—the Fletching Hunter family can’t be that big to afford sending nineteen hunters.”

“I don’t think all the hunters are Fletchings,” Teresa said into my shoulder. “Some of them had different colored clothes and little symbols.”

He got help?! How? Why? Hunters aren’t besties with wolves, yeah, but they don’t hate them!

“Why on earth would they stake everything—their reputation, the honor of the family, the family itself—on the dim hope that the Northern Lakes Pack might have some special ace in the hole?” I was mostly pondering the idea out loud and didn’t expect a response, but I did get one.