He waggled what appeared to be a USB flash drive at me. “Yep. There’s months’ worth of encrypted reports from the Pre-Dominant. We haven’t busted the code on the files yet, but I’ve got a guy. And when we figure out what the Pre-Dominant is hiding, we’re going to let the world know.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic,” I said. “Just because there are encrypted files, it doesn’t mean the Northern Lakes Pack has been doing anything illegal.” I believed what I was saying—barely.
Hudson wouldn’t do anything like that. Neither would Greyson—as sketchy as his personality is.
“Did you know they submitted reports about you to the Pre-Dominant every month?” Amos asked. “Both Hudson and Greyson.”
I felt the fangs of hurt squeeze my throat.
No. No—I was adopted. They didn’t think I was a danger, or they wouldn’t have let Dulce and Santos adopt me. Or maybe Amos is lying—that’s a very real possibility.
But the sense of betrayal haunted me, pushing down on my shoulders like a massive wolf. Weirdly, I felt especially betrayed by Greyson’s reports.
I’d been a kid when I was adopted, so Hudson’s reports maybe made sense—it wasn’t a bad idea to keep an eye on a kid hunter in a Pack. But Greyson…
Even so, I’d die before I let Amos know he was getting to me, and I’d never let him use me—like he was obviously hoping to.
“Is this where I’m supposed to gasp and start crying from the betrayal and emotional trauma?” I asked. “Because I’d like to skip that. I’m not a pretty crier.”
I made a show of looking boredly away from Amos, which gave me the opportunity to check on the humans.
Original Jack had followed them out. I couldn’t see them—they were crouched behind the trap and hopefully screened from the hunters’ notice—but I could see a flash of Original Jack’s red flannel shirt between the mesh that made up the spell. Hopefully the trio was digging out the two daggers near the back of the trap that anchored the spell.
If they can get two out, the wolves might have a chance at busting through. But they need both out—one won’t be enough.
“If you wish to be stupid and ignore the obvious signs in front of your face—that the Pack is not as good and moral as you believe—that’s your wish. But you won’t be interrupting our investigation. Take her away.” Amos pointed at two of his minions.
“Um,” I stalled, not sure what to do.
It’s not like I can start a fist fight. There are what…nine of them out here? I won’t survive those kinds of odds.
Amos’s minions stepped forward, each of them taking one of my arms so they could manhandle me however they wished.
“Uncle, are you sure about this?” Scarlett glanced at me as she sidled closer to Amos. “What we’re doing isn’t legal—there are rules for this.”
“Nonsense,” Amos said. “This is in the pursuit of safety. The Pack’s lies must be uncovered.”
“Except they haven’t done anything bad to any of the humans around them,” Radcliff said. “Even if they’re using something to help their change rate, they work more with humans than the majority of werewolf—or shifter—Packs.”
Scarlett nodded. “Mom said if Hunter Sabre didn’t think there were any problems—”
“That’s enough.” Amos’s voice was hot and painful, like the crack of a whip. “I don’t want to hear any more out of either of you.”
Radcliff fidgeted and looked rebelliously at Scarlett, but Scarlett worriedly glanced at the rest of the hunters—who did nothing to stop Amos.
Amos started to turn and stride in the direction of the trap, while the two hunters holding my arms started to escort me toward the forest.
The trap is still too bright—I don’t know that they’ve even gotten one dagger pried up—I need to stall!
“Wait!” I shouted, making him and the hunters nudging me stop.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “What?”
Stretching my leg out as far as I could, I scraped the toe of my boot against the cuff of his pants. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m totally going to join your little…rebellion thing.”
Amos shook his head. “It’s too late for you, Sabre. You’re loyal to the wolves.”
“Mmm nah, I’ve reformed. I swear.” I wasn’t trying to be convincing—even Amos wasn’t that stupid—as much as I was trying to reel him into an argument. “Wolves? Pft! They’re the worst. All that fur gets everywhere.”
Amos narrowed his eyes. “She’s stalling! Check in with the other team!”
“Yessir.” Another minion pulled out a phone and tapped away on it.
“And check the trap!” Amos added. “I want these wolves secured before we eliminate them.”
“WHAT?!” This time I didn’t have to fake my shout—or my horror.
Amos smirked back at me. “Did you think we’d let them survive and share whatever magic it is they’re hoarding?”
“You can’t be serious—they’re werewolves. They’re people!”
“I told you before, Sabre. They’re going against the way things should be. Therefore, it is up to us to correct it.”
“You’re talking about a massacre! The supernatural community will hunt you down for this!” I shouted.
“I don’t care what the community thinks of us,” Amos coldly said. “They’ve made it abundantly clear that toadying up to those with power—even if they’re little more than beasts—is more important than seeing to the way things should be.”
“You can’t do this!” My voice pitched into a scream with my fear. “Amos!”
Amos ignored me as he strode up toward the trap, several of his hunters flanking him.
They’d be on Amelia and the Jacks.
“Uncle, we’re not doing this,” Scarlett announced.
“This is way beyond the code of hunters,” Radcliff added.
“Then stand aside—or go hide behind your mother,” Amos said indifferently. “The Fletchings are mine now.”
My heart throbbed painfully in my chest, and I swear time slowed down as I considered my options.
Nine hunters—maybe seven if Scarlett and Radcliff don’t fight me. But there are ten more inside. I can’t do anything against those odds—they’ll beat me for sure.
And by beat, I meant it literally. Amos wasn’t going to react without violence if I tried to mess up his plans. I’d maybe survive, but maybe I wouldn’t.
My gaze flickered to the wolves.
Would I be willing to be throttled within an inch of my life, for a Pack that treats me as an outsider—for a Pack that makes reports on me?
Wyatt was as close to the weave of the trap as he could come without touching it when he met my gaze and shook his head.
Yes.
The answer throbbed in my chest.
Because Mama Dulce’s hugs, and Papa Santos’s laughter was real. Because Wyatt’s jokes and Aeric’s grins, and the stupid Pomeranian Puppy Power-ups are real. If Greyson is reporting on me to Harka, it’s for a reason. I might not be Pack, but at least I know that I’m valued.
Wyatt must have seen something in my face. “Pip, no! Don’t do it!”
I ignored him as I shifted my weight to my heels as the hunters realized maybe they should drag me off like Amos had ordered.
“PIP! Don’t!” Wyatt shouted, his voice deep with anguish.
I ignored him as I casually shifted my right arm. The hunter holding my right arm had a very loose grasp on my wrist—he wasn’t even watching me, he was gawking at Scarlett and Radcliff.
Perfect.
I lined up my fist so it was under his chin.