Page 12 of Grumpy Special Ops Bear: Ep. 3
Cutter and Grant had stopped their chatting to watch. My fingers twitched nervously as I tried to ignore them. I gripped the weapon in my hand. The buck knife was at least ten inches long. I had never used one, but hunters I had taken out on trips used them to field dress their kills.
“So how am I supposed to use this?” I demanded.
“Get in close. You won’t be able to kill them unless you directly penetrate the heart or brain.” Bending his knees, he raised his hands in a defensive stance. “Attack me.”
I laughed until I realized he was serious. His arms were as big as my legs.
“Oh hell no. I will not attack you. What if I stab you?”
“It’d be all right with us.” Cutter laughed until Fergus flashed his teeth.
I looked at the blade in my hand and then at the large male in front of me.
Fine, if he wants me to attack him, that’s what I’ll do.
I sprinted forward, raising the knife, ready to stab him in the chest, and then I was suddenly landing hard on my back in the snow.
Holy shit.Dazed, I stared up at the darkening sky. “Ow.”This really is going to hurt tomorrow morning.
Fergus held out a hand and pulled me to my feet. “That’s what happens when you don’t think.”
Cutter laughed, but Grant watched pensively.
For the next twenty minutes, Fergus worked with me, showing me the proper way to attack someone head-on. I spent most of that time on my ass, cursing, but the more I practiced the moves, the more confident I became.
We would have kept going, but Cutter told us the food was ready, and Fergus ungraciously let me take a break. Cutter served our food on a stainless-steel US military mess kit plate set.
“Shit. I’m pathetic at fighting,” I mumbled around a mouthful of elk, an animal I’d never eaten before. It was gamey, but otherwise, it was edible. I was just happy it wasn’t raw and bleeding.
“You’re a Protector. It’s in your DNA to be a skilled fighter. You just need to tap into your inner power,” Fergus replied.
I scoffed. “Inner power? What am I? Some fucking superhero?”
He stared at me. “You’re stronger than you realize. Faster too.” He took a huge bite out of the elk and chewed. “But something’s still holding you back.”
“Maybe it’s because this is all insane to me,” I whispered, staring into the night. “I still can’t believe I’m a Protector.”
According to Fergus, I was born into a bloodline of hybrids called Protectors, whose sole mission was to protect humans from shifters. Protectors hunted down outlaw shifters and killed them when they’d either killed a human or had become a threat to human society.
“What’s so hard to believe?” he asked.
I shot him an annoyed glare. “Uh… I just found out my entire bloodline is a hot mess of killing machines. Where I come from, that shit isn’t exactly normal.”
“Well, you’d better get over that damn hurdle pretty fast. Otherwise, lights-out.” His jaw tightened as he glanced down at his mess kit plate.
My back straightened. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The three shifters glanced at one another over the fire before Cutter snapped, “Fergus, just tell her.”
“Tell me what?” I asked.
Fergus growled. “You’re the only way we can get Price out into the open so we can stop a war.”
My eyes widened. “You never said shit about a war.”What else don’t I know?“Wait a damn minute. How can I stop a war? I’m not a shifter.”
No one added a word, and I tired of waiting for them to reveal the truth.
I threw my plate into the snow and turned to glare at Fergus. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”
