Outcast and running free but without a pack or home to call his own. It’s a heartbreakingly foreign concept for Remus Reese. More so after the death of his twin.
Angry, determined, and hot on his trail, Ava Martine is on her own crusade. She’s been tasked with bringing Remus in; and as one of the Hunters it’s her sworn duty.
But all is not what it seems… Will Ava find reason to betray her life’s cause? Will Remus be able to work with the enemy, injured, alone, and constantly at odds? When these two are forced to work with each other, will opposites attract? Or will worlds collide to devastating effect?
“I tried to be nice,” she said with mock sorrow. The glinting humor in her eyes gave away how much she was enjoying this. “I really did try to get you out here without threats.” She paused and her head cocked to the side slightly. “Well, honestly I guess it would have ended in a threat at this stage either way so…” she shrugged again.
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t like you,” I muttered, anger starting to build in my chest. “I couldn’t really smell the gun oil over all that cigarette smoke. But I must have caught enough of it that I didn’t feel right about you.”
“Well you’re an animal. What do I care how you feel?” she snapped. The beautiful jade of her eyes suddenly became as hard and cold as the stone they so closely resembled. Shit. I was starting to realize just how dangerous this chick was. Bad news didn’t even begin to cover it.
Somehow, I didn’t feel too upset about getting killed. I didn’t welcome it, but somehow I wasn’t as angry as I thought I would be.
“So are you going to put this dog down or not?” I snapped after we stood there for almost a full minute with the gun digging into my flesh. “If not, I’ve got other things to do.”
“You’re not going to die here, Remy Dulcet. Mathias Young extends an invitation. He wants to talk to you.”
I wasn’t afraid of dying. I wasn’t afraid of fighting. But that put a tingle of fear into my spine. I wanted nothing to do with the Hangman, he had proven himself to be nearly as insane as Romulus was, and that information was the galvanizing force for what I did next.
My hand came up and slapped her hand to the side. Her finger jerked spastically and the gun went off, a bullet whizzing past my face so close that it burned a line of fire from my jaw all the way to my temple. I staggered to the side, my left ear ringing loudly from the explosive sound of the gunshot going off practically right next to my head.
I grabbed her by the jacket, spun hard and tossed her as hard as I could. Admittedly, off balance and with my head ringing like a church bell, ‘as hard as I could’ meant that she flew a yard or two and rolled expertly across the ground coming up on her feet like an experienced acrobat, gun whipping around to point at me again.
I was already running down the street. My balance was fucking shot and I swallowed back a wave of nausea that was, thankfully, already starting to recede. With every step the pain in my ear faded as it healed. The pain in the side of my face, however, failed to get any better. In fact it seemed like it was getting worse.
Fucking bitch was actually using silver coated bullets! The pain was only going to get worse as my allergy kicked in. I wasn’t one of those wolf-kind that could shrug off the touch of silver. I reacted badly to it, and I could already feel the side of my face swelling up and my vision in my left eye starting to get blurry as it began to swell shut.
Yeah, this wasn’t going to be good.
“You’re not getting away, fucker!” she yelled from a half a block behind me. “Out of the way people! Move!”
Vision gone in one eye and the entire side of my face feeling as if someone had just poured a vial of acid across it. I bounced off of something hard, my right shoulder catching it and spinning me around like a top before I fell hard to the concrete rolling awkwardly back to my feet and continuing to run.
How the fuck did I let a damn human get the drop on me?
Text Copyright © 2016 A.J. Downey & Ryan Kells
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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