Hunted (Pack of Dawn and Destiny, #1)(80)

“Yeah, I don’t get it either,” Amelia said. “The Regional Committee of Magic will come down hard on them for all of this!”

“It might not be as unexpected as you think.” Original Jack scratched the back of his head. “Pack survival is pretty dark right now. Because Greyson is so strong, we haven’t had any problems, but when Hudson was Alpha, trouble was brewing with the nearby Packs. No one likes how great the Northern Lakes Pack is doing.”

“Stupid,” I muttered. “This whole thing is stupid.”

“What do we do?” Young Jack asked.

Silence stretched between us, and it took me a few moments to realize he was asking me.

“Uh…” I glanced at Original Jack—the adult of the group.

“Rio sent a text when all of this started,” Original Jack said. “He said he saw a second group of hunters—twenty-three of them.”

Twenty-three hunters on top of the nineteen in the meadow and lodge…forty-two hunters total? Just how on earth was Crackpot Amos able to find so many allies?

“I imagine they were sent after the rest of the Pack,” Original Jack continued. “I don’t know if they caught them, but given that they haven’t showed up, I’m afraid to hope.” He closed his eyes and squeezed his phone. When he opened his eyes, he turned to me. “So, what do we do, Pip?”

Oh…no.

I tried not to visibly gulp as Amelia, Young Jack, and Original Jack stared at me—fear and hope battling in their expressions.

I wasn’t a leader. I was a loner—and not even by choice. I couldn’t lead!

But I’m the only one trained in fighting, and as a hunter I’m better suited for this than they are. So I better get it together. What do we do?

“We need to free some of the werewolves, or we won’t stand a chance.” I licked my dried lips. “I’d prefer not to go directly against Amos, but there are only nineteen hunters by the lodge, and twenty-three if Rio’s text is accurate. We’d be better off facing the smaller group.”

Teresa finally stepped back from me and wiped her face off on her arm. “They probably needed more hunters to fight Greyson.”

I traced the sheaths of my daggers on my thigh holster. “Greyson is insanely strong. It will take a lot to get him down. I think we’d be better off taking on this group.”

“Then we fight?” Young Jack asked.

I glanced at Teresa. “Not all of us. Teresa, I need you to run to Timber Ridge.”





Chapter 21





Greyson





I growled at a hunter, peeling my lips back from my teeth as I slunk up to him, crouched so I could jump if necessary.

The hunter stumbled over his feet, but didn’t shoot at me—which was what I was trying to avoid.

They have mostly ranged guns, not pistols. If I stay close to them, their guns are too cumbersome to quickly reposition.

That was the only reason why I wasn’t slumped over with Ember and the others, artificially unconscious.

Four of them stood in front of me, reeking of sweat and fear.

I howled, then chased after them, growling and snapping.

They ran like scared sheep, bolting and tripping over one another as they tried to flee.

We ran past the trap they’d set up for the Pack. I recognized it as something hunter made. Hunter trap spells are unique in that they have a net-like appearance to them, and while they didn’t operate as shields—they couldn’t stop anything magical from getting through—they were excellent physical barriers. Even the strongest of wolves wouldn’t be able to bust out of one that was properly prepared by several hunters and anchored—as these unfortunately were.

The hunters had then released a fae sleeping spell inside the trap, which had knocked out every wolf they’d caught.

I hadn’t been with the Pack when they were first captured—I was just slightly behind them as I’d stopped to sniff Pip before heading out.

I’d been able to attack the hunters from behind, but there were twenty-three of them.

I wasn’t going to beat those numbers.

Instead I’d done my best to split the group around the trap—making it harder for the hunters to get off a shot at me and not hit one of their own.

Not that they didn’t try.

A bullet narrowly missed my flank, and the hunter—who wielded a rifle—swore as he tried to track me.

I rammed into him—knocking him over—then grabbed his throat and crunched down. I didn’t savage his throat, but I used enough force to deal damage to his windpipe.

He flopped, uselessly trying to get air, and I jumped at the next hunter.

She tried to stab me with a silver edged dagger, but it was easy to dodge and ram her over with my wolf strength.

For wolves, a downed enemy was a defeated enemy. It made it much harder for them to fight back.

I grabbed her wrist with my mouth and bit down.

She cried and dropped her dagger.

I grabbed her hand next and crunched down again, likely breaking a few of her fingers.

She screamed in pain, and I knew she wouldn’t be picking up her weapon again.

I dropped her limb and leaped over her as she cried, curling up in a ball.

I locked eyes on the next hunter I needed to target, but most of my concentration switched to my ears for a moment.