Page 180 of Hard Knot

The tears I'm fighting back make my vision blur as I launch myself at her. Her arms wrap around me, strong and real and alive, and for a moment I'm lost in the fierce embrace of a friend I thought I'd lost forever.

"How?" I demand when I finally pull back, my hands gripping her shoulders. "When? You were dead in an alleyway!"

"Love to explain the whole not-dead situation," Jessie says, her head tilting slightly as she listens to something I can't hear, "but my instincts are telling me a certain pain in my ass is charging over here after I shot that 'not a deer' individual. Best I get going, hide in the bushes."

I eye her vibrant top skeptically.

"You're wearing neon fucking magenta. How exactly are you planning to hide?"

Her smirk widens.

"Fair point, but Marcus is stupid and colorblind, so he won't notice."

"Wait—Marcus? The same Marcus my pack was talking about at my family dinner?"

"So the news of you having a pack is true."

There's something knowing in her gaze.

"Yes, surprisingly."

"Let's catch up after Christmas." She glances at the body cooling in the leaves. "But first, you should figure out who sent this bulk fucker to try and kidnap you."

"I've been receiving notes," I admit, my mind racing. "But who?—"

"That could explain it," she cuts in, "but it might not be about you specifically. Could be someone trying to get back at your pack."

I nod slowly, the pieces starting to click together.

Jessie pulls out a card, pressing it into my palm.

"Encrypted number," she explains. "Keep in touch, but stay clear of Dead Knot. It's not called that as some edgy mockery. It's a hunting ground. No penalties for kills here."

Well, shit.

"Thanks for the heads up," I manage, my throat tight.

She holds my gaze for one more moment, and I try to memorize her face—alive, fierce, and somehow both completely different and exactly the same as I remember.

Then she's gone, disappearing into the trees just as my phone nearly vibrates out of my pocket with calls and messages.

My overprotective pack is going to lose their minds over this one.

The phone in my hand buzzes again, and I finally glance down at the screen. Thirty-seven messages, twelve missed calls, and what appears to be Felix trying to activate some kind of tracking device I didn't even know I had.

A message from Holmes flashes across the top.

"Don't move."

Another from Carter:

"Running your way. Try not to die before I get there."

James has sent a string of texts that get progressively more panicked, ending with.

"Elizabeth I swear to god if you're dead I'll kill you myself."

I can't help but laugh, the sound slightly hysterical as I look between my phone and the corpse still lying in the leaves. The reality of what just happened starts to sink in, sending a delayed shiver down my spine.

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