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With a menacing snort, he licked his muzzle with his long tongue, making the sound even more frightening. She moved closer to her goal little by little, trying not to make a sound. Three feet… she only needed three more feet… and the lighter. She let out a terrified cry when he closed the distance between them with a sudden jump.

Her booted foot connected with his chest as she kicked out, giving her the momentum to twist and scramble the last few inches. She rummaged through her bag, feeling for the lighter. When he regained his footing and leaped again, another cry was torn from her. His teeth sank into the thick leather near the top of her boot, causing a sharp, piercing pain. A wave of agony shot through her as his fang punctured her leg by the edge of her boot. Frantically flicking the black button on the lighter, she kicked at her attacker in a desperate attempt to defend herself.

“Leave me alone,” she snapped.

She twisted her body as she reached out her other hand. She stretched her arm as far as she could, but her spear remained just out of reach. She reached out frantically, trying to grab it multiple times, but each attempt failed as he pulled her down and to the side. The flame on the lighter swayed back and forth, casting shadows on the wall of rock.

At a crossroads, she weighed the options of lighting the fuse or going for her spear. Doing both tasks simultaneously was impossible for her. As the lighter slipped from her grasp, she swiftly rolled and lunged for her spear. Rolling onto her back, she jabbed him in the chest with all her might.

He let out a yelp as he released her, falling back a few feet in surprise. Her spear, embedded in his shoulder, was ripped out of her hands. She pushed herself up, using her good leg to reach the same level as the fuse.

“That is going to cost you,” he said.

In the darkness, her fingers moved tentatively, feeling for the lighter lost in the shadows. She tightened her grip on the smooth red handle just as he focused his attention on her again.

With each foot she pushed herself up, the tension around them grew palpable as he slowly advanced. She lifted her hand, revealing the lighter. Stopping in his tracks, his eyes gleamed with an otherworldly glow as they mirrored the dancing flame. As he lifted his head, his nostrils flared as he sniffed.

“You shouldn’t have messed with a human,” she said, lowering her hand and lighting the wicks.

As fast as she could, she twisted and climbed up the steep path. As desperation took hold, she felt a surge of strength coursing through her. The shifter’s fierce growl was overshadowed by a sudden eruption of the black powder. Around her, fragments of wood and rock fell, creating a cacophony of crashing sounds. The force of the bits and pieces hitting her left small, jagged tears on her thick coat.

She rolled onto her back and peered up at the dark canopy of trees silhouetted by the night sky. She strained to listen through the acrid smoke and could make out the distinct sound of rocks scraping against each other. Her eyes connected with her pursuer’s as he struggled to rise from where he had fallen in an effort to seek cover. She watched as the boulder teetered for an instant, then slowly started its descent down the rocky slope.

Her stalking predator, realizing he was in the direct path of the rockfall, twisted in a desperate bid to outrun certain death. Even in his shifter form, he was no match for the force of nature. She turned her head when the boulder overtook him. His yelp of pain and terror couldn’t hide the sound of bones being crushed under a ton of rock.

Struggling to keep her stomach in check, Jayden collapsed to the side, feeling queasy. Covering her eyes, she focused on what needed to be done next. The group still consisted of seven shifters. In the darkness, she would have to search for Van and Peterson, rescue them, and make a daring escape. The combination of doubt, fatigue, and pain washed over her, leaving her feeling overwhelmed and alone.

She focused on the pain. That was something she could do something about. Opening her eyes, she pushed herself up. Jayden reached into her bag and pulled out a small torch and a first aid kit tucked in a pouch.

Blood had soaked into her pant leg just above her boot. The wound, although just a puncture mark, felt deep and throbbing. Taking care to clean it thoroughly, she wrapped a bandage around her leg and the outside of her pants, feeling the tightness of the bandage as she secured it in place. To mask the scent of her blood, she would have to rub it with leaves or dirt.

She stood up, sparing a moment to look down at the lifeless body of the beast, now in pieces. The only thing that could be seen was his upper body, the rest hidden from view. She shuddered as she realized he had transformed into his human form. His left shoulder and arm were at an unusual angle and blood darkened the rocks around him.

She refused to feel any sympathy for the operative. He had made his decision. She returned her attention to the path she would need to take.

“I’m coming for you guys. Hang on until I get there,” she murmured.

Chapter 23

Van woke up slowly, feeling a pounding headache, the smell of smoke lingering in his nose and his mouth was so dry it felt as if he had cotton balls instead of a tongue. His body and mind felt as heavy as molasses, slowing down his every thought and action. He shook his head, hoping to shake off the confusion, but winced as the pounding in his temples intensified.

Struggling to focus, he blinked his sandy eyes and tried to make out the object in front of him. He was hunched over, leaning against a tree trunk. His wrists were tightly bound behind his back with a plastic strap. Seeking relief for his right shoulder, he adjusted his position to alleviate the pressure. His movements were restricted by the plastic tie strap binding his ankles together.

At his feet, Peterson remained motionless in his wolf form. Van felt a wave of relief wash over him as he saw the gentle rise and fall of Peterson’s chest. Memories of the number of tranquilizer darts protruding from his friend were still vivid despite his current brain fog.

Van surveyed his surroundings, tilting his head back to get a better view. In the pit, a small fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow. Across from him, a spacious tent blended seamlessly with its surroundings. In the dim light of the lantern, he made out the shapes of two shadows. By the fire sat a man and a woman, both clad in camouflage, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Next to each person lay an automatic weapon, ready to be accessed quickly.

He peered into the darkness, searching for any signs of more mercenaries. A figure quietly glided past the tent. He was clever enough to avoid looking directly at the dancing flames of the fire.

He shut his eyes to concentrate on the various noises that surrounded him. His head tilted to the right when a light cough followed by a loud fart made another man laugh.

“You need to put a cork in your ass, Bailey,” a woman called out of the darkness.

“I’d be happy to put one in yours, Red,” the man replied.

“In your nasty-ass dreams,” Red retorted.

There’s at least seven.