Page 167 of Roaring Flames

God…

If what he’s saying is true…

The shifters are going to think that humans—that Hunters—attacked the party. Killed their people. Threatened their children.

And why did they want us to capture Kain? Certainly, Kain’s appearance proves that there’s more to this mess than what meets the eye, right?

Vlad continues to grin down at me. “And now I have the final piece of the puzzle—you.”

“Me?”

“You’re an extremely special girl, Isabella.” Vlad reaches down as if he wants to caress my cheek, but I turn my face away, gritting my teeth.

He pauses and then straightens, much to my relief.

“I think you may have gotten the wrong person,” I bite out. “I’m virtually a human.”

“Your blood will suggest otherwise,” he singsongs. “Besides, even if you can’t do what we need you to do, you’ll be able to help us get someone who will.”

“That doesn’t make any damn sense.”

He leans over me yet again, so close I can see the darker specks of garnet in his eyes. They’re truly revolting to look at. Not because of the color, but because of what they represent—all of the blood he must’ve consumed.

“You should be lucky you’re needed, little girl, or your insolence will see you killed.” He bares his teeth at me.

I grin. “Fuck. You.”

What he doesn’t realize is while he monologued like an old-fashioned movie villain, I crept my hand towards a fallen branch the size of my forearm. I swing it as hard as I can at his head.

As expected, it isn’t enough to knock him unconscious, but it does surprise him, and he staggers back with a yelp, clutching his cheek. I nimbly jump to my feet.

“You bitch?—”

I hit him again, harder this time.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Sometimes when I watch horror movies, I find myself screaming at the main character for being such a fucking idiot. For example, when they have the chance to stop the bad guy, they’ll often hit them once and then run away. Hell no. You keep hitting that fucker until his legs are broken and he’s unable to chase you.

Tears stream down my cheeks as I finally toss the branch to the side, certain that Vlad won’t be getting up and following meanytime soon. He’s still alive, but his legs look as if they’ve been through a meat grinder.

I spit on his unconscious form. “Fuck you.”

Someone barrels through the trees from behind me, and I immediately dive for the branch and hold it up like a baseball bat.

One last gunman steps forward.

I prepare myself to have some batting practice with his head when he speaks, his rough, raspy voice curling around me like smoke.

“Gracie.”

I drop the branch as shivers dance down my spine. “W-what?”

Grayson reaches for the balaclava and pulls it off, revealing a face I memorized years ago.

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