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Then I heard a soft footstep just outside the door, and knew my own battle needed attention. I slipped out of bed, wishing I had on something easier to fight in than the fancy clothing from the dinner. At least I still had the steak knife in my waistband. I made sure it was easy to reach, then used the pillows to make a shape under the comforter.
I left the shoes where Luke must have placed them, and scanned the room for any other weapons, but Luke’s room was almost as sparse as mine had been. Besides the bed, the desk, and two chairs, he had nothing, not even a lamp. I opened the desk drawer slowly and felt inside carefully, finding nothing but a small ring of keys. The keys to this room?
No, he’d handed me a single key. The only one, he’d said, and he hadn’t been lying.
But he’d obviously been mistaken, because someone outside had a key as well, or something that worked like one, judging by the unmistakable sound coming from the doorknob.
The doorknob that was already turning.
I slid next to the door, my back flat against the wall, the keyring in my left hand and the two keys already jutting out from between my fingers, my right hand resting on the handle of the knife at my waist.
I held my breath, and held as still as I knew how.
The room was dark, but the light from the hallway illuminated a familiar bulky shape. I didn’t move to attack, though, since I knew this one never went anywhere alone.
Sure enough, a whisper from the doorway had me flinching. “Grant! Kill her and get out here! The fight’s startin’.”
The shifter standing by the side of the bed took a long sniff, then yanked the comforter back, revealing the pillows. “Go on, Lyn. I got this.” He turned slowly to face me, his eyes glinting in the hallway light, his mouth twisted in a wicked smile. “Looks like I caught you after all, little prey. I win the Hunt.”
I stepped away from the wall, balancing on the balls of my feet, ready to strike. I didn’t want him to know I had a knife, so I held my hands up so he could see the keys. “You win nothin’, Grant Lee. I’d slit my own throat before I’d let you touch me.”
He laughed, stepping closer. “You’ve shifted now. You can’t slit any shifter’s throat with those little things, not even your own now. You’d heal too quick. All you’d do is make yourself a little bloody while I deal with you.” He let out another chuckle, lifting the comforter. “I don’t mind a little blood when I’m fucking my mate. You’ll learn to like it, too.”
I saw the move coming and ducked low, letting the comforter he tossed at me fall over me. But I was already moving, not toward the door, not away. I crouched low and ran at him, reaching his legs and knocking him over onto the bed.
Del’s words echoed in my mind as I made my move while Grant still couldn’t see me. “Smart shifters are hard to beat. But a dumb one will always expect you to go for the obvious target. The throat, the gut. What you want to do is surprise him, and while he’s wondering where all the blood is coming from, get away… or go ahead and finish him off, as long as you have a safe way out of the packlands. Once you kill a shifter here, girl, you can never come back.”
It was a good thing I was on my way out. I had the steak knife in my hand in one second, and had plunged it into his thigh, right where his femoral artery was.
In the next second, before he could grab me through the slippery fabric of the bedding, I’d crawled up his torso, the keys raised just far enough back to get some momentum. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t gloat. I thrust the keys on either side of his squat nose, into both eyes.
His scream was so loud, I was surprised Lyndal hadn’t heard it. But no one came running in. Maybe my luck was finally turning.
Nope. Pain lanced through me, one of my ribs popping as Grant grabbed me with one arm, cursing at the top of his lungs. “You bitch!”
“Not… your… bitch… though,” I managed to wheeze as I snaked an arm under his grip, saving the rest of my ribs.
He was squeezing me while he tried to pull the keys out of his eyes, keeping me from running away, but I made it as hard as I could. I kicked, I shouted, I punched and scratched, wiggling this way and that, ignoring the pain in my chest.
When he finally pulled the keys out, Grant’s face was bleeding something fierce, and I knew he couldn’t see me. It would take a day to heal his eyes. “You little bitch, I’m gonna…” He stood, shaking me, but hesitated. “I’m gonna…” His grip slackened, and he staggered.
“You’re gonna die like a mangy dog, killed by the prey, you tick-infested shit stain,” I snarled as he finally let me go, staring into space. Just like Del said, this fool was dead, and didn’t even know it yet.
I heard a scream outside—Margarette—and collected my steak knife off the ground, jumping over the enormous puddle of blood that had almost soaked the carpet and the comforter.
It looked like the Southern Pack House was hosting a blood festival on the front lawn. Enforcers from the other packs were fighting, but each pack had only been allowed to bring a handful of fighters. And for some reason, only a dozen of them, most of them weaponless, were there.
But every male shifter from Southern was there, with enough steel to run a foundry. The ranked males were the largest ones, and they all fought hard. But even the youngest ones, like those little shits Leroy and Bo, were slashing at the empty-handed visitors with long blades.
The odds were ten to one, and Southern was using every dirty trick they knew to make sure they would come out on top.
“Mom!” Glen’s voice had me running toward the center of the ring, dodging and weaving around groups of fighting wolves. Some of them were in wolf form, some in human form with knives, but none of them even blinked as I ran past.
I was moving pretty fast. And it was a good thing, because when I saw Van Blackside with his arm lifted high, and a blade coming down toward Margarette’s bleeding throat, I knew no one else would be quick enough to save her.
I funneled every ounce of energy I had into my legs as I leaped over a fallen chair, landing on the dirty, blood-spattered ground with a scream, my knife held high.
I was back in the ring, but this time, I wasn’t here for any game. I was here for revenge.
