Page 66 of Hunted in the Shadows
13
Jon
The crowd exploded with cheers and hollers and vicious boos. Apparently, some people had a little more faith in Sylvia after seeing her annihilate the alp. Hell, if it weren’t for the iron, I had no doubt that shecouldhave killedme.
She was a patchwork of blood and scrapes that I didn’t have time to assess as the mist faded. The image of her lying there, flushed and unmoving, made my heartbeat stagger.
“Sylv?” I breathed, quiet as possible.
The tiniest dip of her chin assured me. She was good.Toofucking good.
I snatched her up in a single hand, cradling her wings carefully before closing her up out of sight. Thrusting my fist triumphantly, I gave the onlookers what they wanted. I tossed the iron bar against the cage, making it clatter noisily. Sylvia flinched at the sound. I held her close to my chest, boots crunching over glass and blood as I stepped over the alp’s body, sweeping up my jacket as I went.
Just a little longer, cariño.
The Pit keeper flung the door open, and I was praised with claps on the back as I exited. I sidestepped, pointedly dodging curious stares. No one could fault me for keeping my kill hidden—she was a rare prize, after all.
From the corner of my eye, I could see Cliff collecting money from bets and hurrying over with Gwen. His cheekbones were flushed—more breathless than I’d seen him in years.
“Weapons,” I said flatly to the hunters who had searched me. I stuffed my leather jacket over one arm and reached out expectantly.
“Now, hang on a minute. I’d like my merchandise first.” Rhett materialized beside me, clapping my shoulder. I grit my teeth against the sting of my open wound. “Please,” he added, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.
“I said I’d kill her without a scratch. Didn’t say anything about taking your offer." I lurched back from his touch, turning back to the young man who was clutching my knives and handgun with white knuckles. "Weapons,now.”
The snap of my voice made the younger man flinch—he couldn't have been more than twenty-three at most, with that wispy attempt at a beard clinging to his jaw. He looked around the others, to Rhett, and then back to me, a quiver in his voice.
“Listen, man,” he said. “I know who you are, and it's an honor to meet you, but I—I'm just following orders.”
I ducked closer, near enough to feel the shaky pull of his breaths. “Move,” I growled.
The younger hunter staggered back a step, but he looked over my shoulder to Rhett, cowing for instruction. Gritting my teeth hard enough to feel it in my jaw, I turned back to face him, too.
“I earned the trophy,” I said. “I fought for it through blood. That’s the rule.”
“I hate to pull the outpost marshalcard, but…” Rhett sucked through his teeth—a mocking motion that gave me fantasies of smashing his face against the domed wall of the Pit. His eyes flickered to my closed fist. “There are some new rules. That thing set loose a damn good catch. You got any idea how rare it is to find a siren wandering alone? Especially one that young? I’m owed compensation.”
“That’s got nothing to do with me,” I snapped.
The dull roar of the onlookers seemed to dim. That stupid half-smile on Rhett’s face faltered like it was now a plaster replica of the real thing. I’d seen this unsettling coil in him before when we’d ordered him at gunpoint to stand back while we burned the prowler’s corpse. His eyes were his tell—fiery, yet cold and tracking every move like a mantis ready to strike.
“You know, I have a good sense of humor but my client’s not as good-natured as me.” Each word dripped with that veil of Southern charm—poison hiding in honey.
“Unfortunately for you,” I growled. “We don’t give a shit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, two other hunters—a man and a woman—stepped into the walkway, blocking any path toward the bridge.
“Just give me the body, Nowak. I’d hate to add yours to the bill. Really, it would tear me up.” Rhett took a beat to look me over. His appraisal made my skin crawl. “Though… Bones of anAppalachian Reapermight make a mighty fine talisman to some folk. You boys are probably worth a fortune thanks to that shitty story.”
I grimaced, shooting him a look for the comment. I swore I felt Sylvia flinch against my palm, too. Rhett stepped closer, one hand pushing his jacket aside to rest the handle of a 9mm tucked in the waistband of his jeans.
“I’m going to ask nicely just one more time, Nowak,” he said, placing his other hand on my shoulder. "Give me the body, or you can kiss that silver goodbye."
He was too close to Sylvia. Too close with thatgoddamn smirk.“Get your fucking hand off—”
CRACK.
A gunshot sliced through the air, close enough to graze the fabric of Rhett's outstretched sleeve and leave a shallow, bloody smear in its wake before it tore through a crate of supplies.
