Hebithim.
Deep and with intent.
Magic taints the air, building steadily as Morgan’s body prepares for the change.
“You broke the hunter’s number one rule,” I grind out, barely holding myself together. “Maybe I’ll let them kill you instead.”
Birch shrugs like it doesn’t matter. Then he lets Morgan go, dropping him to the ground like he’s nothing.
Something inside me snaps.
Rational thought vanishes and pure instinct takes over. Alpha strength surges through my body, lighting me up with incandescent fury, yet I feel an odd sense of calm as I step into the clearing.
I catch sight of Mal slumped against a tree, unmoving, and Flint props up a now-unconscious Beth, blood running down the side of her face. When the fuck did that happen? Flint’s eyes meet mine, the murder in them matching my own.
Four FBs stand behind Birch, silver-edged blades visible on all of them. They’re coated with aconite—I can smell it from here. Nervous gazes dance between them, but Birch’s eyes don’t leave me.
“You should’ve bitten him when you had the chance.” He kicks Morgan’s limp body, then shrugs. “Oh well. I guess he’s mine now.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you.” I’m surprised at the lack of emotion in my voice, when inside I’m bubbling over with it.
Birch laughs. “You sure about that?” He pulls out his knife and gestures to the rest of my pack, and only now do I take in more detail. Mal’s arm lies at an unnatural angle, fuckingbonevisible, and both Beth and Flint are on their knees, cuffed. “Reckon I’ve got the upper hand here.”
“You think I came alone?” I ask, even as Callum and Jet emerge from the trees either side of me.
Birch doesn’t react. Not a surprise then.
He grabs Flint’s hair, yanking his head back and setting the knife at his throat. “Doesn’t matter. Any of you take one step closer and I’ll slit his throat so deep, even your blood won’t save him.
The faint rumble of bikes sounds in the distance.
Us or theirs?
I’ve no fucking clue until Callum’s phone chimes. He has the balls to get it out of his pocket while we’re in the middle of a standoff and read the message. His fierce grin tells me everything I need to know.
Five minutes, he mouths.
“Drop the blades and walk away,” I tell the four FBs flanking Birch, “and I might let you live.” I level my gaze at Birch. “You’re fucking dead either way.”
“Birch?” Four uneasy pair of eyes land on him.
He ignores them. “This far out,” he says instead, lifting his knife and admiring it. “You’ll never get the antidote in time.”
Motherfucker.
It happens so fast.
I lunge for him at the same time as he flips the knife around and lets it fly far quicker than I anticipate. Momentum carries me forward as the blade spins through the air towards me. I dodge, hoping to take it in the side rather than the heart, but a blur of movement barrels in from the side and I’m hit by Callum instead as he falls back into me, the hilt of the blade sticking out from his chest.
No. No, no, no, no.
I slump to the floor, Cal a dead weight in my arms.
“Get the van ready,” Birch orders the FB closest to him. “Now,” he roars when no one moves.
“What about them?” He points to Beth and Flint.
“Leave them,” Birch snaps. “They only wanted the human.”
