“He’s barely more than achild!”
“He’s registered. That makes him an adult as far as the law’s concerned.”
Falon’s roar shook the trees, sending birds scattering into the darkening sky. “He’s eighteen years old.Eighteen.”
The hunter’s eyes narrowed. “And he was feral. A danger to all humans in the area, so we put him down. Followed protocol.” When Falon didn’t say anything, he gestured behind them. “You heard the screams. We had no choice.”
Falon growled but no longer seemed about to rip their throats out, so I let him go when he shrugged me off. “He didn’t touch any of them. You could have detained him without fucking killing him.” With one last scathing look, he walked over to Callum’s body and knelt beside him.
The hunter holding the knife looked up and I couldn’t help the sneer as his deep blue eyes met mine. “Ten years and nothing’s changed, eh? What the fuck are you doing here, Gabriel? I thought North Cornwall was your hunting ground.”
Gabriel Mason sat back on his heels, but before he could answer, one of the hunters behind him let out a laugh that sounded far from friendly.
“Tombs would shoot him on sight if he went back there,” the guy muttered, smirk curling his lips.
Gabriel ignored them and me, instead focusing on Falon. “He’s not dead.”
Falon’s gaze shot to him. “What?”
So much blood covered the dirt path, the scent of it heavy around us. Even shifter healing would struggle to combat that. But as I scowled, wondering what the fuck Gabriel was talking about, I strained to listen for any signs of life.
Nothing.
I was just about to lay into him for giving Falon false hope when I heard it. The faintest of inhales, thready and weak, but Callum had taken a breath.
And then another.
Falon reached for one of Callum’s hands. “How?” He shot a quick, shocked glance at Gabriel.
“I packed his wounds with powder to counteract the poison from the bullets and the knife. Gave him an injection too.” He stood, and it was only then I noticed the latex gloves he wore and the fact the dagger was now in what looked to be a police evidence bag along with two handguns.
“I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but it’s given him a chance.”
“Thank you.” Falon nodded at him, then shifted his focus back to Callum.
“Why save him when he’s going to get locked up anyway?” one of the hunters asked. “He’s not going to thank you for giving him a life locked in a cage.”
To my surprise, anger flared in Gabriel’s expression as he turned to glare at the hunters. “Because Falon’s right. You could’ve taken him down without trying to kill him, and feral or not, he hasn’t hurt anyone. I’d like the chance to investigate why this happened, and that’ll be a damn sight easier with my main witness still able to answer questions.”
The hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Tombs was right about you, then.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what that bastard said about me.”
Maybe some things had changed, then. The last memory I had of Gabriel Mason, he was stood side by side with Caleb Tombs. Part of the same hunter group.
“Maybe you should,” the hunter shot back.
Gabriel raised an eyebrow, seemingly still relaxed, but I recognised the stance of someone preparing for a fight. “Are you threatening me, Yates?”
I filed that name away. If a hunter group was in the area, I wanted to know all about them.
Yates shrugged. “Not at all. But no one likes a traitor. Just saying.”
Soft footfalls sounded behind us, only Falon and I noticing the newcomer. Neither of us reacted, as the scent was as familiar as my own pack.
Should be, since it was my cousin who appeared out of the tree line.
Detective Max Knowles. Paranormal division.
