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My shoulders felt heavy under the weight of his gaze, my stomach turning with discomfort. A symptom of the hangover, surely.

“I’m good at my job, despite what you think.” He winked.

“I don’t think you’re not a good hunter.” I bit my lip. “I just think you’re an asshole.”

His lips spread into a wide smile. “Well, I’ll take what I can get. What do you make of this?” He tilted his head to the ritual site.

“We’ve got a witch,” I stated the obvious. I hated that he’d found this, and therefore, had knowledge of the witch. Though it might’ve been helpful for him to focus on her so I could hunt my original prey.

“And a werewolf,” he added as if he were reading my mind.

“And a wight.” I sighed. “Like a bad joke or CW show. They’ve got to be connected. No way they’re not in a town this small.”

He folded his arms, leaning against the tree with an ease that made me shudder. How he could touch something tainted with unnatural magic was foreign to me. My skin was crawling just being there.

“You’re willing to entertain my theory, then, that the witch created the wight.”

“Maybe.” I tapped my finger against my lips. Donny had called back with the same conclusion. “And sicced it on me, I guess, since she’s apparently trying to kill me for whatever reason. I haven’t done anything to her. I didn’t even know she existed. Granted, if I had, I’d be trying to kill her too but⁠—”

“Excuse me?” Dante’s tone was low, dangerous, without a hint of teasing.

“Of course, I’d try to kill a demon-blessed witch, Dante.” I threw up my hands. “You don’t believe they can be redeemed or saved, do you?” Maybe Dante had a thing for bad girls. Ones who stank of demons, rot, and decay. Whatever got him there, I supposed.

His face was glittering with anger I didn’t know the source of. “I’m painfully aware that they can’t be redeemed.” The clipped way he spoke hinted at a past with them that was curious. “I’m talking about the part where a witch tried to kill you that you’re just now sharing about.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to update you on every murder attempt,” I scowled. “In our line of business, it would mean I had to talk to you way more than I want to. Which is not at all, in case you’re wondering.”

Dante ignored my remarks and continued with the glowering thing that I did not recognize. “Hadley, this is obviously personal. The wight was at your house⁠—”

“Not my house,” I cut him off.

“The deed says otherwise,” Dante argued.

I put my hands on my hips. “How the fuck do you know that?”

“I do my research.” His eyes narrowed at me, for once not defaulting to a casual, playful demeanor. I didn’t like the cocky, unserious Dante, but this intense, protective version was much worse.

“How did you even find your way to Dreadwood Falls in the first place?” I demanded, asking the question that I should’ve pushed a lot harder a lot earlier. “Are you following me? Researching me?”

He stared at me, silent for a handful of seconds like he might push the witch issue. “I came here like you,” he finally replied. “I caught a whiff of the news, the deaths, figured it was something supernatural. Finding you here was a happy accident. And then when it was clear that you have history here, I did some digging.”

He laid out arguably logical facts, but there were too many coincidences for my liking. I didn’t believe in coincidence.

“I don’t believe you.” I squared my shoulders.

“That’s your prerogative.” He shrugged. “But right now, you’ve got a demon-blessed witch on your ass, with the ability to summon, if not, create, supernatural creatures. At best, a rogue werewolf. Worst, they’re working as a team. How about you push your ego to the side and accept a partner?”

I choked out a laugh. “My ego?”

He nodded gravely, without a hint of humor. “Yes, Hadley, your ego. You’re a good hunter. But you are not good enough to do this alone. I’m helping. Whether or not you bless it is up to you, but if you want to be rid of me, you’ll have to kill me. And good luck with that.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, a slow, satisfied smirk marring his features as he pushed off the tree and stomped back toward the trail.

He’d purposefully given me his back. An invitation to shoot him in it if I were that ruthless, that cowardly.

It was tempting. Then I could be rid of the thorn in my side that was Dante Fields … and the irritating, growing attraction to him. My finger twitched with the urge to retrieve the gun from my holster. But no. I wasn’t that big of a dick. If I were going to kill Dante, it would have to be a fair fight.

I already had enough to fight right then.

So I had to do the unthinkable—partner with him.