Page 36 of The Tracker's Revenge
Well, this certainly took a turn.
I stood in front of the bunch, feeling self-conscious, wanting nothing more than to march out and never come back. It took a ton of willpower to get my dominant instincts under control and share what I knew about the hybrids. Everyone listened attentively, without interruption while I trudged through the details like a kid at a new school.
I wanted the floor to split open and the earth to suck me right into its smoldering core, but no such luck. At least, they didn’t know me well enough to figure out what a mess I was at the moment. Meeting my half-siblings had really screwed up my cool. As first impressions went, they would probably peg me for a stuttering halfwit. But who cared? I was never coming back here.
When I finished, Olivia blinked and shook herself, looking a little pale. “Thank you. That was incredibly detailed and eye-opening.”
Huh? Really?!
I had no recollection of what I’d said, but apparently, I’d done a good job explaining how scaredshitlessthey should be. Maybe being nervous had actually helped.
“They sound tough,” the giant of a man that had been tackled to the floor said. “What do you think would be the best way to kill them?”
A sensory overload delivered with your bare hands seemed to work the best. Though, of course, I didn’t tell them about this method and the hybrid I’d killed with it.
“Well,” I said instead, “bullets will take them down, but they should be of a high caliber and aimed at vital organs. After that...” I ran a finger across my throat, unwilling to say the words out loud.
No one seemed squeamish or surprised by the suggestion. A few just nodded as if we were talking about pruning roses.
The wiry guy elbowed the giant at his side. “And we should burn them afterward to make sure they’re really, really dead.”
“This is very useful information. Thank you,” Olivia said. “We will adjust our training to take into account what you’ve told us. Normally, we don’t use firearms—we don’t need them when we’re in the field—but it seems, this time around, gunsandswords are in order.”
Everyone nodded their agreement.
“My father mentioned you might train with us?” She looked me up and down, making me feel like I didn’t belong, like they were above me. Travis had likely told her I was a lone wolf, a pariah without a pack. Of course, she thought I was anothing.Cleverly, she disguised her silent assessment of me by saying, “it seems you’re dressed for the occasion.”
This time my alpha rage seemed to surge all at once, causing Olivia and Marcus to look intimidated for an instant. However, they quickly rearranged their features into something fierce and confident and, subtly, took twin stances that suggested they knew how to rely on each other.
I had people like that in my life, no doubt about it. But they couldn’t help me here, not with my kind. Among these people, I was an outsider.
If I’d been thinking properly, I would’ve said I wasn’t there to train, that I’d only come to share what I knew, but Red took over, and, with her at the wheel, there was no backing down.
“Yes. I’d love that.” I rolled my shoulders, all nervousness gone.
“Are you sure that’s wise? I heard you grew up somewhat... apart from pack life,” Olivia jabbed, raising her voice to make sure the message traveled throughout the room.
Murmurs went back and forth as everyone made spiteful comments.
“What? Was she raised by humans?” the wiry man asked, flipping the Stale joke around since they thought that anyone who was a bit strange must’ve been raised by werewolves.
“As a matter of fact, I was,” I said, lifting my chin and daring anyone to continue laughing.
The effect was immediate, especially among those I bothered to look straight in the eye. Their grins froze, then slowly fell away. They might feel stronger than me as a pack, but individually, my alpha superiority rattled their instincts. Almost imperceptibly, they seemed to inch toward each other, forming a tighter group.
“Untrained, huh?” Olivia’s brother said. “I think my sister could take ya.”
I scanned him up and down and offered him a twisted grin. “Nice of you to offer up your sister.”
He bristled a little, but in the end, he simply shrugged. “I’m a gentleman. It would be impolite to fight a woman. At least until we’ve assessed your abilities.”
Olivia gave her brother an irritated glower, then proceeded to size me up. I crossed my arms and bore her scrutiny with cool detachment. She was clearly trying to decide whether or not I was an easy opponent or someone who would end up embarrassing her in front of her flock. After a few beats, she flipped her hair in a careless gesture.
“Sure, if she wants to. I should warn you, though. I’m proficient in several martial arts. I have trained since I was five years old.”
Marcus smirked. “Our father insisted on it.”
“You’re not the only ones,” the wiry guy said, obviously feeling left out and making me realize that fighting skills in werewolf packs were more important than I’d realized.
