Page 102 of Reaper's Pack

Until he clocked me across the face, using his scythe’s rigid staff to knock me off my feet. The blow fell harder than any I’d suffered before, and I went down with a yelp, toppling head over heels twice before sprawling in a furry heap. A loud whine screeched between my ears, and when I rolled onto my side, the world was just a little off-kilter.

A storm of black charged for Alexander, Knox’s guttural howl making the nearby van windows rattle, and Gunnar blitzed toward the reaper like a missile. Alexander’s two joined the fray, snapping at heels and feet, bullying their way between their master and my packmates. Blinking hard, I struggled to my feet, wishing adrenaline would dull the pain in my temple where the staff had landed.

But I could endure pain. I’d proven that time and time again. Teeth bared, I charged forward and fell in line beside Gunnar, barking and lunging at the other pair of enormous hellhounds.

“Fuck!” Alexander reeled back suddenly, stumbling away from the skirmish and shaking his hand. He hissed, examining the seared red flesh with wide, furious eyes.

Apparently even reapers couldn’t touch a scythe that didn’t belong to them. Triumph pulsed through our bond, and we closed ranks around Hazel’s scythe, the three of us backing over it as Alexander’s pack withdrew, looking to him for further instruction.

The reaper scowled at us, his face pale, his hand stained like a bad sunburn.

“Useless, all of you,” he spat, pointing his scythe at us. “There will be consequences for your disobedience.”

Dry amusement trembled through our bond; sure, blame your fuckup on us, you dick.

“And your fucking reaper deserves whatever she gets,” he added, and all the humor died, replaced again by a swift and deadly venom. If we could get him away from his scythe, that prick wouldn’t leave the industrial park with his head.

Knox prowled a few paces toward Alexander, stilling when the reaper lunged forward with his scythe, stabbing it into the space between them. Two feet closer and that blade would have plunged right into Knox’s chest.

“Be seeing you all very soon,” Alexander hissed before vanishing from sight. Thick with tension, the air around us fell silent, deadly, two packs of hellhounds squaring off. We outnumbered them, but they were here on their master’s orders; would they follow through?

The alpha’s red eyes swept over us, his hackles lowering, that great square head of his a near match for Knox. The hound at his side glanced up, his muscular body tensed, waiting. Gunnar and I padded forward, the scythe still within reach, but stopped when the alpha exhaled, his nostrils flaring, the breath long and loud.

And—resigned?

Fuck that guy. I could almost hear it, almost feel it rolling off the hellhound pair in resentful waves. The alpha huffed again, this time at Knox, the sound specific and pointed, then disappeared, his beta following shortly after.

Knox was on me the second they were gone, nosing at my face, snuffling around my ears, searching for an injury. If there was one, it was deep inside. Not a drop of blood hit the ground, and I was ready for more.

“I’m fine,” I insisted after I shifted back, the heat of the change steaming the air around us. I stayed on my knees, letting my alpha continue his inspection until he was satisfied that nothing was broken. The welt on the side of my head stung like nobody’s business, but that would pass.

Gunnar shifted beside me, then crouched and inspected my left while Knox finished off at the right.

“Are you sure, Dec?” he asked, brushing my hair away from the tender skin around my temple. His keen eyes narrowed, both of us coated in a sweaty sheen as he scrutinized whatever Alexander had left there. “That was a solid hit.”

“Really, I’m good.” I shrugged my packmate off with a quick grin and smoothed my hair back down to cover the bruising as best I could. The blow continued to ring between my ears, but there was no getting around that. “Stings a bit. Head’s ringing. But I’m fine. I’m ready to go.”

Knox’s human form appeared in the corner of my eye, and he ruffled my hair briefly, then clapped me hard on the shoulder. Even though he wasn’t smiling, his eyes flinty and his scared brow furrowed, I knew he was proud of me. I felt it in our bond—and in the way his hand lingered on my shoulder in a hard squeeze.

“Well, so much for Alexander,” Gunnar muttered as he sat back on his heels, arms wrapped around his knees. Knox let out something between a scoff and a snarl.

“He didn’t give a fuck from the second I told him… I think he just wanted Hazel’s scythe.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks, our collective rage in the bond making me see red. Needing the distraction, I stood and stepped over her scythe, back to my sentry’s post behind it as the others rose alongside me.

“Bastard,” I growled, Alexander’s scent still lingering along the celestial plane. Fresh and clean, his suit must have been recently laundered, the smell suddenly tainted with burnt flesh. Good. Hope it hurt, fucker.

“What now?” Gunnar’s uncertainty was palpable. Of the three of us, he was the least likely to ask that question.

Which meant we were on the verge of screwed. I scratched at the back of my neck, searching, searching, searching for something. But then the headache started up again, the one I swore linked with Hazel. Someone was hurting her; the pain played through our bond and across Gunnar and Knox’s faces too—but Knox most of all. He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes clenched shut.

“Now,” he said hoarsely, “we get out of here.”

My heart pitched into my gut. Leave? But… this was where we had last seen Hazel. Her scent—

“Her scythe will be fine where it is,” Knox carried on. Gunnar’s and my confusion in the bond must have said more than words could. Our alpha folded his arms and motioned to our surroundings with a nod. “No one can touch it—not even that uptight fuck. But he’ll be back, probably with his whole pack, and potentially an angel.”

“That could be beneficial,” Gunnar said softly, and I agreed. If anyone had the power to take down whoever stole Hazel, it was an angel. Knox seemed less convinced, his expression hardening, and I instantly understood why.

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