Page 63 of Hunted in the Shadows
And now, I was the latest lesson.
Swiping panicked tears—no,I wouldn’t cry like a damn child—I noted the fresh blood splattered on me. Bright crimson spotted my hands, my clothes. Surely not mine, and not from thenear-black puddle surrounding the alp. Perhaps the blood belonged to the hunter who’d grabbed me near the entrance. If he lost function of that hand forever, I hoped he would remember me—how I was not the fragile creature I appeared.
A dozen feet below, the crowd of hunters roared with renewed fervor—twenty bloodthirsty cheers overlapping and making my ears ring.
Three figures gathered at the doorway. The heavy chains sealing the Pit clanged as they were unwound. I balled my fists at my side, bracing myself. Whoever they sent in to finish me off, I would do the same tohishand, too. I would leave him with nothing but ragged, frozen stumps.
If he doesn’t kill you first,a demented voice rang in the back of my head.
Finally, the door creaked open, and a hulking figure filled the frame. He was easily one of the tallest humans present. Dark hair was swept off a handsome face, brows furrowing over earth-colored eyes that methodically surveyed his surroundings. He appeared to carry only a slender bar of iron as a weapon, but I knew that powerful frame was capable of great damage unaided.
“Jon,” I breathed, unable to believe my eyes.
He washere. He’d come for me.
The door slammed shut, locking audibly with a metallic scrape. I couldn’t make sense of that part. Whatever the hell was happening, I wanted to face it from the safety of Jon’s hands.
Choking back a sob of relief, I started toward him, only to stop short.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Someone rapped a beer can against the side of the fence near Jon. “We don’t got all day here, kid. Move your ass!”
I glanced behind me to see if Jon’s glower was aimed at someone else. When I faced him again, he was removing his jacket. He tossed it aside and picked up the iron rod, weighingit. His knuckles went white with devastating clarity as he secured his grip—hands that had brushed my cheek like I was a delicate treasure. Right now, I could only remember how those same hands had beheaded a vampire leader as easily as slicing an apple.
He looked so cold, yet mournful as he looked up at me, stepping closer. He didn’t look likemyJon. I recoiled from his approach.
What’s happening?I begged silently with my eyes. Jon’s gaze was an unreadable storm of emotion. I couldn’t pluck an answer out of the dozens churning there.
I surveyed the ravenous crowd once more. The money passing hands again, the hungry eyes. I tried to spot Cliff, but I still couldn’t make him out in the chaos. I hoped he was safe.
Jon circled my position from the ground with predatory grace, careful to avoid the deformed carcass. He came to a pause just beneath me while the shouts rose to a deafening volume.
Cheeringfor him.
The fragile seed of hope in my chest broke. Jon wasn’t here to save me. He was here to kill me.
No. I was out of my mind. He had to be pulling some kind of ruse, but the thought of what he must have in mind was unspeakable. I would not feed these monsters’ bloodlust. I would not put on a show for them. There had to be another way. Jon couldn’t simply free me, but surely he couldn’t be blamed if I simply found a way out.
I pointedly stayed out of range, flitting higher over his head in another maddening search.
The crowd was displeased. A glint caught my eye, sailing over my head. A brown bottle shattered on the dome. Glass rained. Choking on a scream, I drove to avoid the shards. A few stray bits nicked my arms and wings.
Before I could make sense of how far down I’d flown, Jon caught me by my legs. My vision blurred as he swung me downand pinned me to a wooden crate near the door. Splinters dug into my back and wings.
I struggled, clawing at his hand. The jeering was closer, too deafening to allow me to think straight. And Jon looked just like one of them, glaring down at me with that dark gleam while his hand gripped me tighter than it should—just like in training. I wiggled uselessly, wondering if this was part of the ruse. I couldn’t tell anymore.
If I was wrong, if he wasn’t acting, my bones were going to snap in his loveless grasp.
“Jon,” I gasped, and he squeezed me tighter, silencing me.
My eyes swiveled madly. There were beers in many hands. Liquid I could use. The swamp water below was too faint, too far away through the iron. But from this close… those glass bottles could save me.
Fight back.
I snapped my attention back to Jon, unsure if he had said it aloud or if it was only in my head.
The iron bar he slowly moved toward me was certainly real. The crowd roared with every inch it drew nearer to my skin. I whipped my hands up and conjured a powerful thrust of frigid air, knocking Jon back.
