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I groaned. Of course, there was no way he was going to let that go unsaid. He was waiting for his moment.

“I’d drunk half a bottle of Jack hours before,” I snapped. “I’ll bet you would’ve been dead the second you blinked at the wight had you been in my position.”

“A poor tradesman blames his tools,” he tutted. “And Jack is nothing but a tool to hunters. I’ve seen you blackout drunk, facing down a vampire without so much as a scratch.”

I swallowed the last of my coffee, hating our history, hating that he had been a part of so much of my life without me really noticing. I’d blocked him out, apparently.

“I get this is a personal hunt, Hadley.” His tone was softer this time. “You’ve got history here. And it’s going to distract you. A distracted hunter is a dead hunter.”

I’d actually been considering working with Dante up until this point—unthinkable, but the prospect of an expedited exit was tempting. Then he had to insinuate that I was weak, that he knew my history. Information was a necessity in our business, and I didn’t like that he had the upper hand.

I crumpled up my empty cup, hurling it into the gutter.

“Littering is terrible for the planet,” he told me.

“This planet is fucked anyway,” I snarled. “And, you, get off my car and out of my shadow before I empty a clip into your delusional head.” I put my hand inside my jacket, pointedly setting it on the handle of the gun I had strapped into a holster today.

Dante peered at it with a raised brow and a playful smile, lazily lifting himself from my car. “I’d rather not.” He tapped his ear. “Still can’t hear out of this side.”

“Here’s hoping I did permanent damage.” I crossed my fingers with a scowl. “And I do not need help,” I snapped at him. “And I am not distracted. If this hunt ends with a dead hunter, it sure as shit isn’t going to be me.”

I pushed past him, got in my car, then sped away, resisting the urge to run him over.

But his words followed me down the familiar streets, along tree-lined neighborhoods all the way back to that house I hadn’t intended to step foot in all day. Technically, I didn’t break that intention, since I only parked in the driveway and rounded the side of the house, trampling over flowers that hadn’t had the sense to die yet.

My body protested in pain as I crunched through the grass and fallen leaves, tuning out the impeccably maintained backyard and refusing to look at the outdoor pizza oven my father built by hand over a long weekend. There had been a lot of cursing involved, multiple trips to the hardware store for forgotten tools, calls to Gerald who eventually arrived, Colton in tow, the three of them finishing it in triumph—even though it leaned slightly to the left.

I kicked it on my way past, which only served to hurt my toe, tweak my ribs, and did not salve the burn of that memory.

My body protested my swift pace toward the woods. They loomed against the edge of the neighborhood, a reminder of what lay beyond, what had been cut down to make way for suburbia.

The evidence of the night before was sparse—disturbed, flattened ground, broken branches, chunks out of a large tree littered along the ground. Exactly what I’d expect from a tussle with a wight except maybe with less evidence of me getting my ass kicked. Farther into the woods, there were the scorch marks I was expecting. Not from me. Dante.

The scent of rosemary and ash lingered in the air. The fucker had been prepared. I should’ve pressed him on why he’d been out there in the middle of the night in the first place. It was an obvious question to ask. He was staying at a motel across town, yet he was conveniently there at three in the morning to save my ass.

Yeah, that was as shady as a vampire running a daycare.

Why in the fresh fuck I hadn’t made him answer the question as to why he’d been there while at the barrel of a gun was anyone’s guess. I stomped farther into the woods, unsure of what I was searching for.

My practiced eye caught the carving in the trunk even as I stormed past. I stopped, leaning in for a closer look.

I grabbed my phone. “Have you heard of forest wights in North America?” I asked when she answered.

“Hello to you too.” Donny’s reply reeked of sarcasm.

“Please don’t burden me with the pleasantries,” I groaned. “I’ve had enough social interaction today to last a lifetime.”

“Happy reunions, then?” She chuckled.

The skin across my knuckles felt tight from how hard I was squeezing my phone. It was only a matter of time before Donny discovered my true history.

That bitch had a nose for the hunt, and I bet she smelled it from the first conversation we had. Or maybe she’d even known before she called me for that first job. She was a sneaky whore.

“Fuck you,” I replied.

“Not so warm and fuzzy homecoming, then?” she guessed.

“What the fuck do you think?” I stomped my foot—a stupid fucking thing to do since it just made everything throb twice as hard.