Page 13

11

Jon

T he commotion in the Pit ebbed into the steady hum of the swamp as we made our way behind the main building, though the faint echoes still carried—sharp clinks of metal on metal and occasional bursts of shouting. The alp had shifted into the form of a panther, its sleek body coiled with fury as it viciously lunged at the hunters who subdued it from the other side of the cage.

The familiar cocktail of brackish water and old wood clung to the walkway, but as we approached the captive vampire, a new smell began to weigh in the air. The stench of flesh and decay, along with something more bitter—like vinegar, cloying and foul.

The vampire's clothes hung off it in shreds, leaving much of its skin exposed to sunlight. He groaned in his throat as we stepped closer, something that might have been a growl if he were at full strength.

Cliff whistled low under his breath. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. Your modeling days are long gone.”

“Isn’t the entertainment over there riveting enough for you?” the vampire rasped. “Leave me be.”

I glanced behind us to ensure that the building and crates were obscuring us enough from view. I spotted a glimpse of metal—a single machete that was kept nearby for security or torment. When I fixed my eyes back on the vampire, I noted the fear beneath that half-hearted snarl on his face. Good—maybe we could count on some cooperation.

“We’re looking for some information,” I said, cutting to the chase. At any moment, someone could round the corner. “How long have you been out here?”

The vampire’s gaunt face twisted with disgust, and he offered no response. I watched him carefully—how his eyes darted rapidly, the faint tremors of reaction to sounds too subtle for me to catch. Tortured or not, his enhanced senses were obviously unbroken.

“You must see and hear plenty,” I insisted. “The shipments of monster remnants that are circulating through this place—where are they going? Who's the buyer?”

“I smell the ash of my kin on you,” the vampire said in a low voice. A long, rasping inhale followed. “Centuries old. A lineage destroyed. Why should Itell you anything?”

“Your kin was keeping a human farm,” Cliff scoffed. “Pretty pathetic that a centuries-old lineage was reduced to holing up in a Blockbuster. If you ask me, we did them a favor.”

The pinched expression on the vampire’s face flickered with curiosity, and I could see the question he wanted to ask. I seized the opportunity to keep him invested, and more importantly— talking .

“Does the name Giovanni ring a bell?” I asked.

A sharp breath rattled through the vampire. He looked between us slowly, a glint in his eyes. Mourning, but also a hint of relief. “That name takes me back. Giovanni was always a bit of an arrogant prick—but generous. I’ve never seen anyone more willing to give someone the shirt off his own back.”

I rolled my eyes. The vampire’s withered lips twitched in what might’ve been a smirk, savoring my obvious disgust. “I suppose there is dignity in being staked—a kinder fate than this,” he said, grimacing at the cut of sunlight across his scabbed torso. He looked between Cliff and me, sunken eyes moving slowly. A wariness surfaced, as though he struggled to comprehend that Giovanni was truly gone. “You really killed the alpha?”

“We’re not interested in keeping prisoners,” Cliff said.

Sickening familiarity jolted through me. Hadn’t we told Sylvia something similar when we held her captive, demanding answers? I swallowed the memory, forced myself not to match the fear on the vampire’s face to Sylvia’s. This was nothing like that.

“If you help us out,” Cliff went on, “we’re a little nicer than the average asshole around here. How ’bout a chew toy in exchange for some info?” He held up the severed finger.

The vampire’s eyes widened, his jaw going slack as a drop of blood plodded onto the wooden ground. His breathing came quicker, and he straightened, pulling against his restraints as though he had no other choice. His eyes, filled with new life, snapped between us and the finger.

“I haven’t heard very much,” he choked out.

“Keep your voice down,” I said, drawing as close as I dared. “What have you heard? Where are the crates going, and who’s paying for them?”

“Different locations. Some for their rarity. Some for—for study. Experimentation, if you ask me.” He looked desperately at the severed finger. “That’s all I know.”

Cliff lifted an eyebrow—a mocking expression that didn't quite match the alarm sparkling through his intense gaze. One of our tried and true tactics for wheedling out information: making the mark feel all the more isolated.

“Experimentation?” Cliff asked, forcing down a chuckle. “You think some fucking scientists are playing with monster parts?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” the vampire snapped, his gaze hardening. “You hunters—always acting like humanity is above such atrocities. Perfectly ordinary humans took no issue with experimenting on their own kind during the Second World War, so long as they were born on different soil. I saw it with my own eyes.”

This gave me pause. Looking at this haggard, sore-covered creature, it was hard to imagine the man he had once been so many years ago. Perhaps a soldier on the front lines, serving his country. There was something tragic, seeing where his road had ultimately led him.

The vampire’s gaze turned distant, but as another drop of blood hit the boards, he snarled and pulled feverishly against his restraints. “They come at night,” he panted, somewhat desperately. “Uniformed. Armored vehicles. That’s all I’ve seen—I swear to you.”

Additional needle-like teeth were filling his mouth. His groans were on the verge of becoming animalistic bellows. I elbowed Cliff to give the vampire his prize, hoping that would shut him up.

Cliff tossed the finger, and the vampire devoured it whole—an anguished, sorry sight.

The vampire slumped, shoulders heaving with relieved breaths. His calm lasted for about five seconds before he snapped his head back up, eyes wide. He strained against the silver chains, making them clank.

“ More ,” he growled under his breath. Then his voice rose. “I need more!”

Cliff seized the vampire’s rotting scalp, jerking his head forward. “Tell us what else you know, and we’ll get you more.”

But the vampire was too far gone to listen. He snarled with bloodlust, fighting his restraints with a fervor that couldn’t be stopped by any promise. He made a vicious pass at Cliff’s arm, who recoiled from range.

I reached back and grabbed one of the machetes atop the crate.

“There’s nothing more we can get from him—not like this,” I said, exchanging a look with Cliff.

Lunging forward, I decapitated the vampire with one clean swing.

In the sudden silence that followed, I found myself imagining if Sylvia were with us—wondered what she would truly think. Even she would have had to agree that a swift death was kinder than a torturous end under the sunlight.

“I was going to use that, you idiot,” a voice snapped from behind.

The familiar drawl sent a chill down my spine, and before I whirled to face him, I knew I’d be looking at a man who’d nearly handed us into a painful end.

Rhett Iverson stood a few feet away. His livid stare faltered into surprise. I saw the memories hit him, too: fir trees lined by silvery moonlight, the acrid smell of smoldering skin, flames casting our faces in flickering hues.

Cliff braced in unison beside me. My grip tightened on the machete.

Somehow, the grin that spread on Rhett’s face was more alarming than his ire. He smoothed a hand through his tousled chestnut hair, chuckling. “Well, I was wondering when I’d see you two around here. You know that vamp wasn’t going anywhere, right? What a waste.”

He stepped closer, cocking his head to observe the slow roll of the decapitated head along the wooden slates. I flicked my gaze over him, noting how Rhett’s lean frame bore more muscle now—no longer the scrawny young man we'd once known. He sported a cropped beard that framed his face well, and his clothes looked clean and new.

“Didn’t look like you were getting much use out of him with all the junk back here,” I muttered.

“You’d be surprised how often I get a line on someone looking for a still-breathing vamp,” Rhett said with a shrug. His gaze drifted back toward the vampire's corpse, appraising what remained.

“Yeah? How much are they going for these days?” Cliff asked. “Up there with prowler eyes?”

The jab made Rhett’s sharp blue eyes tighten around the edges, but he managed a strained laugh. “Come on, guys, you’re not still hung up on ancient history, are you? No hard feelings.”

“Hard feelings?” Cliff looked about five seconds away from decking him. “You fucked us, Rhett. You nearly got us killed for a damn payout.”

“Did I? Or did I just make the best of a tight situation?” Rhett pursed his lips, a faux-innocent sneer. “Come on, I thought you guys could handle it! I mean, look at you. Alive and well and violent as ever. Clearly, I was right.”

He motioned at us with a sweeping gesture—a movement which brought a small iron pin on his collar to my attention. All my time hunting, I had only ever seen it on Cain.

“They really made you marshal?” I said, not bothering to mask my flat disdain.

Rhett flashed me a bright smile. “The people have spoken.”

“Did they?” Cliff folded his arms over his chest. “Last I checked, youcouldn’t shoot a deer if it was standing right in front of you, but now you’re in charge of an entire outpost?”

Rhett laughed, the sound echoing across the waterlogged cypress forest around us. He strode over to take a seat against a steel drum with a weathered Hazardous Material Storage sticker peeling on its side. He propped one foot on the side of the vampire’s severed head, rocking it slightly.

“Look, Goldilocks, I may not be on your level with the world-class sharpshooting, but I do know how to run a business,” Rhett said.

“This isn’t a business,” I cut in.

“It is now.” There was an edge to Rhett’s voice that made me pause—some of the irreverence replaced by something sharp and cold. Still, he kept a lazy smile on his face as he jutted his chin toward the weathered wood and steel of the outpost looming behind us. “What do you think of the place?”

“You mean the restrictions fucking up our day?” Cliff asked.

Behind Rhett, I spotted movement in the window. Three men–what looked like two hunters and an archivist–were idling by the grimy glass. They busied themselves with a map laid out on a table, but I didn't miss the way their eyes flickered towards us periodically–keeping tabs on their marshal. Rhett may have come outside unaccompanied, but he certainly wasn't alone.

“Think of it as opportunities,” Rhett answered placatingly. “Welcome to the concept of commerce .You realize the fine people of this outpost can actually get paid for their work now? On top of that, I got more specialized medics on site—you can get cleared to take one along with you if you’re put on a riskier hunt. Hell, I even snagged a couple of attorneys who help hunters out of legal mess with the local law if they get sloppy taking out a target.”

“In return for what?” I scoffed. “Hunters do what we do to help people, not to make a quick buck for a con artist.”

Rhett snorted. “Oh, please. I hate to break it to you guys, but not everyone shares your little white knight fantasy. Half of these people would sell out their own grandma for a six-pack.” He paused, lifting his eyebrows at us expectantly. “This is your cue to say ‘ thank you , Rhett ’ if it's not too much to ask.”

I rolled my eyes, blood heating. “Get fucked.”

Realizing I was clutching the weapon in my hand with a white-knuckle grip, I hesitantly set the dripping machete back on a crate—though I stayed within reach. I tried to keep my tone even.

“You've got an investor,” I said, letting the accusation hang in the air. “Someone’s helping you. ”

Rhett heaved a long sigh, like this was the most tedious conversation he'd had all week. “People need things, I provide things. That’s Econ-101, big guy.”

“You're a snake,” I growled.

“You trash my product and insult me? Not gonna lie, starting to hurt my feelings a little bit.” Rhett kicked the vampire head, where it wobbled an uneven path along the walkway until it halted against another steel barrel.

Cliff stepped closer, looming over Rhett's seated position. “Where’s it all going? The siren, the vampire, the monster parts—who are you selling to?”

“Not that I can go into much detail—but some of it does go to a very good cause. I’d be happy to bring you into the fold—show you what it’s all about. We could use someone with your skills, Everett.”

“Shove it,” Cliff said, expression darkening.

“I’m serious. I’ve heard the stories of what you're capable of, and…” Rhett paused to let out a whistle. “You have no idea what a partnership between us could do for you. Besides, we both know you’ve done worse for less.”

“At least I don’t need to buy people to stand beside me,” Cliff snapped. “I didn't come here to have my ass kissed. We need a restock on silver, and we’ll be on our way.”

Rhett straightened off the steel barrel, his amicable tone sharpening into something authoritative. “Well, the way things work around here, you’re not getting what you want until you contribute to the outpost.”

I clenched my teeth. I hated this. I hated needing anything from this smug bastard. Even being in the same space with him made my skin crawl.

“What, is this a country club now?” I said. “We have to pay dues? ”

“It means doing what I say,” Rhett drawled. “Silver’s a hot commodity. I can’t just go handing it out to every pair of moody drifters that pass through. But relax—it’s nothing you won’t enjoy.”

Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of paper—I caught a glimpse of a list. It looked like it had been printed on letterhead, with some sort of green insignia at the top. I didn’t get a long enough look to tell for sure, but I swore I’d seen that strange E-shaped logo—the same symbol that had been littered about the abandoned lab in that church basement.

“Our benefactors have particular requests,” Rhett said, scanning it. “Lucky for you, the current bounties should be simple enough for seasoned hunters like you.”

My gaze followed the list back to his pocket, and the subsequent look I shared with Cliff needed no words. He’d seen what I had—and we had to get our hands on it.

Cliff drew an aggravated breath and started forward to brush past Rhett toward the main hall. “We’re not doing your grocery shopping, you psycho.”

Rhett moved to block him—as I had anticipated. “Everett, hang on. You’ll want to hear me out.”

“Because that worked out so well last time?” Cliff scoffed.

Rhett sighed, rolling his eyes. “Okay, yes, I’ll admit that I may have slightly overstepped with the whole using you as bait thing. But this is different strokes completely, trust me. Now… I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Cliff’s smirk was sharp enough to gut a person. “And here I thought you didn’t swing that way. Do me a favor and buy me a drink first.”

For the first time, Rhett’s smirk vanished altogether. He turned red, eyes flying open wide, and finally , I caught a glimpse of the unhinged young man who’d been with us on that prowler hunt.

“Watch it,” Rhett gritted out, his voice low and restrained .

Cliff's chuckle was a cruel sound. “Oh, right—I forgot you’re too busy fucking your mom, aren’t you?”

Rhett lunged, shoving Cliff against the wooden railing, his fists knotted in the fabric of Cliff's plaid shirt.

We hadn’t gathered much about Rhett's family when we'd first met him, but we knew enough to know most of the money he scraped together back then mostly went to taking care of his mother back in Georgia. And, of course, rumors followed through hunter circles—the kind that twisted into something uncomfortable over the years. Something about Rhett doting a little too much, a little too close .

Judging by how Rhett's jaw ticked, it was still raw enough to strike a chord—and Cliff had hit it dead-on.

“Don’t talk about her,” Rhett seethed. “Don’t you fucking talk about my mother. You’re still valuable, Everett—even if someone puts a few holes in you first. Am I clear?”

For a moment, Cliff's cocky mask slipped and true confusion clouded his expression. “Valuable to who?”

I shoved between them, slipping two fingers into Rhett’s pocket as I pushed him back.

“Hey!” I barked. “That's enough—get off him. We’ll pick up silver elsewhere.”

I transferred the folded list into my jacket in the same breath. Grabbing Cliff’s shoulder as though I’d have to physically steer him away, we rounded the corner.

“Don't fucking walk away from me!” Rhett shouted, his quick stride snapped on the wood behind us.

We barely passed the threshold of the main building when commotion came from the other side of the hall. At first, I worried that Rhett had remotely raised some sort of silent alarm to sic the rest of the outpost officers on us in retaliation, but he shoved right past us to investigate the growing crowd .

The main entrance was swarming with people trying to glimpse what was happening.

“Rhett!” Another hunter intercepted him in front of us, his breaths heavy and eyes wide. “Your siren—it got away.”

“What?” Rhett bolted toward the commotion, seeming to forget us entirely.

As he muscled toward the front, another figure forced into the hall, shoving against the growing crowd’s flow. I squinted, momentarily bewildered. The person was so short, I briefly mistook them for a child.

Then I got a good look at her face— Gwen . Her eyes locked onto mine, and even from a distance, her wild desperation was visible. A faint ringing filled my ears as Cliff and I ran to meet her halfway.

Sylvia. Where’s Sylvia?

“What happened?” Cliff asked, grasping her shoulders as she came to an unsteady stop.

Gwen breathlessly gaped at us, looking lost for words. Flecks of ice caked Gwen’s ankles and combat boots.

I stepped closer, setting my shadow over her. “What did you do? Where is she?”

“She—” Gwen carefully scanned the distance between us and the lingering hunters in the building. She lowered her voice, eyes swimming with apology that made me sick to my stomach. “I couldn’t stop her.”

It started with a shout at the door—“A winged creature has been captured!”

The words split me open. Word traveled like wildfire, igniting the two dozen hunters piling outside. The female creature had been on the offensive—set the siren free, obliterated the bouncer’s hand into a bloody stump.

Panic set into me like a knife in my chest. I shot a frantic look at Cliff, whose wide eyes mirrored my dread .

They were taking her to the Pit.

Gwen’s presence reeked of betrayal, but I would deal with her later. We burst back through the side door with the stragglers, and chaos hit us like a wall. The crowd flooded the rickety walkway around the Pit, passing money around, betting on which monster would best the other—the fairy or the alp.

Some of the onlookers were awestruck, jaws hanging open as one of the keepers unlocked the Pit, wielding a small cage and a cattle prod. Like us, they’d thought fairies were a drunkard’s myth. It would be safer for them to believe that. Now Sylvia was fighting for her life like a goddamn sideshow attraction.

“Twenty against the fairy?” A woman decked in denim and fighting leathers waved a sweaty bill toward me.

“Fuck yourself,” I answered reflexively, not slowing my path.

“Damn. Suit yourself, asshole.”

My vision tunneled on the portable cage that Pit keeper was boasting—obscured as more bodies circled the domed enclosure, eager for the best view.

Cliff grabbed the collar of a gangly hunter pressed against the fencing and yanked him out of the way. The man protested colorfully but cowed at the icy glare Cliff sent back at him. I shoved in beside Cliff. My height proved an advantage; the hunter to my right sized me up irately before settling for grumbling and setting his eyes back on the center of the Pit. Begrudgingly, I allowed space for Gwen to peer between us.

The crowd erupted as the keeper emptied the small cage—and Sylvia tumbled into view, landing on her hands and knees. Her iridescent wings twitched, flinging off drops of water, and her bare arms trembled as she pushed herself up. That carrier cage had iron bars. She hadn’t been burned, but I could see how the proximity alone had affected her.

“Sylvia said she hunted with you these past months,” Gwen said.

“And?” I asked tersely.

The keeper left Sylvia there on the bloodstained ground, striding over to the alp crouched defensively on the other side. It had reverted back to dog form—muzzle still red. The keeper jabbed the alp once with the cattle prod, riling it up. The dog’s growl morphed into a hiss as it transformed before our eyes into the form of a lynx.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Gwen replied in a tense breath.

The keeper dodged the snapping jaws with experienced reflexes—beating the feline muzzle away with the prod. As the blow registered, the feline form flattened and coiled into that of a massive cobra.Its hood flared wide, forked tongue tasting the air rapidly. For the first time, the monster noted that the keeper was not the only thing inside the enclosure with it. The keeper retreated, casting a wary look at Sylvia as he passed. He exited, barring the door behind to join his clamoring colleagues on the other side.

“Settle your bets, boys!” he roared.

The air was thick with the smell of old blood and sweat and money changing hands. My entire world centered on Sylvia as she got to her feet. It was to my benefit that every other asshole here was gaping just as abjectly. I was frozen—my instinct to charge in and rescue her would out us all. We would have two dozen weapons on us the second I had Sylvia in my hands. I liked our odds against half of them, maybe—but these were trained killers.

“What the hell happened?” I snapped at Gwen, glancing down at her ice-ridden boots. “What did you do to her?”

Gwen’s face twisted with outrage—and a flicker of fear. “Nothing!”

“Right. Should I just take your word?”

“Fucking nothing happened, I swear! Either you bagged a girl as paranoid as you, or you taught her everything she knows, Nowak.”

“It’s just an alp,” Cliff cut in, nodding toward the furry mass inside the cage. “One thing in our favor. She has a chance.” He wove his fingers through the chain link fencing, tugging. Searching for a weakness.

I desperately tried to catch Sylvia’s gaze—if only to reassure her that I was there, that she wasn’t alone, that we were going to get her out of there somehow. She flicked more water off her wings as she got to her feet and looked all around at the enclosure—the barbed wire and chains and deafening, hateful jeers. The cobra hissed, slithering curiously toward her. Sylvia jumped five feet into the air, giving a strangled yelp. Hunters around us laughed.

She threw her hands up, and though her mouth moved with words I couldn’t make out, I realized she wasn’t casting magic. She was trying to quell the creature, to sweet-talk it into submission.

After a few upward snaps, the monster shivered into another form. Its forked tongue and bared fangs morphed into a razor-sharp beak. Feathers erupted around its body, sprouting wings and talons in the space of a breath. The sight of a hawk had never inspired terror in me until now—even with the excitement roaring around me, I heard Sylvia’s horrified scream clear as a bell.

My knees threatened to give in as she flew higher, dodging the chains that hung from the ceiling. As the hawk flapped toward her, she threw out a gale of icicles that snuffed out too quickly. The monster was deterred only long enough for Sylvia to dart to the other side of the enclosure.

Fuck. The proximity to the iron walls was fizzling her magic out. She’d have to put herself closer to the center to fight, exposing herself. I nearly opened my mouth to bark out the advice, only to see her catch onto the idea herself .

A few bodies away, Rhett’s voice carried over the roar of onlookers. “You fucking morons.Do you have any idea how much fairy blood is worth? That alp’s gonna rip her apart and leave nothing behind!”

“We couldn’t just leave her out,” someone protested. “Look what she did to Russell's hand!”

Rhett rounded on the man who'd spoken, donned in dark, practical clothes that blended into the marshy woods around us. He staggered a step back as Rhett's icy gaze settled on him with an unnerving weight.

“First of all, Austin, you have the intelligence and personality of a used tampon, and everybody here knows it,” Rhett said. “Second—if you ever toss a fairy into the Pit without consulting me first, I will personally feed you this alp one piece at a time.”

Austin paled, his gaze flighty even as he tried to maintain a semblance of dignity. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

Rhett shoved past him, gripping the chainlink dome to watch Sylvia.

For a single second, I thought that could be the ticket to saving her. If preserving her parts was reason enough to stop this circus act, I’d have a better chance of saving her.

But one of the Pit keepers nodded towards Rhett. “Doubt a little thing like that will get ripped apart. It’ll probably be swallowed whole.”

Rhett’s gaze barely flicked to acknowledge him. “As long as I can slice open the alp’s stomach before she’s digested, I’ll get what I need. My client's gonna be pissed about the siren, but a fairy’s more than a worthy replacement.”

My fingers dug into the chain link, itching to rip out his tongue and shut him up forever.

Cliff grabbed my shoulder, stealing my attention. “Cover me. No one’s looking our way, right?” he pulled out his gun and discreetly checked its magazine. “I can make the shot, take it out before it gets to her.”

“It’s moving quick,” Gwen muttered. “What if you hit her?”

He smirked tightly. “Remember who you’re talking to?”

“They’ll know it was you,” she snapped.

The crowd erupted with new noise—some with disappointment and outrage, others with awe. I put a hand over Cliff’s wrists to make him lower his gun. “Wait.”

Although Sylvia had been herded to the middle of the enclosure, she was anything but helpless. She shot volley after volley, hitting her mark almost every time. The few stray bursts of spellwork felt intentional as they smashed against the Pit’s walls and sent some of the more vicious audience members skittering back to avoid shards.

Most of the hunters seethed at the collateral attack, but a heavily tattooed hunter beside me chuckled and elbowed me. “Adorable little thing, isn’t it?”

Sylvia zipped aside to avoid the hawk’s trajectory, but there was no need. It careened toward the ground with a pained screech, wings blooming with black blood. She didn’t relent, not even when the creature weakly began to change again. The alp collapsed, motionless, a bizarre cross between a hawk and an alligator.

“Yeah, adorable,” I muttered in response, stifling a proud smile.

Another roar rippled through the spectators as bets were lost and won—judging by the disproportionate anger, hardly anyone expected Sylvia to still be breathing. I observed Sylvia with a beat of pride. She stayed hovering over the alp, tearing her eyes away only once she was sure it was dead. Her shoulders rose and fell with frantic pants. She turned slowly, clearly searching the crowd, but she was facing the wrong way.

“Maybe they’ll keep her in there like the alp,” I whispered to Cliff, tentative hope blooming. These people liked having something to gawk at. Something to train with. After everyone had their fill of staring, we could figure out how to free her without getting caught.

“Okay, enough fucking around,” Rhett said, glaring impatiently at one of the Pit keepers.“Open the door.”

Shit. Fuck.

Rhett pulled an iron blade from his jacket, making my blood run cold.

“Wait—I can do it, Rhett,” Austin staggered forward, patting the weapons holstered across his person.

“I need this thing intact,” Rhett said, barely sparing him a look. “The wings alone are gonna buy you folks a new building—and then some. I don’t need your butterfingers fucking that up.”

I glanced at Sylvia. Her flight faltered like she might collapse right there in midair as the door rattled, but instead, she shot upward. Her frantic path took her around the top of the dome in search of an escape that she would never find.

But I could change that.

I forced my way forward. “Wait! I’ll do it!”

Rhett cast a bored look at me over his shoulder. “Stay out of this, Nowak. You’ve made it clear you’re not interested in playing ball with me.”

“You saw what she did to your guy. You really wanna risk losing a hand for this?” I demanded, fixing Rhett with a blazing look.

“And you do?” Rhett lifted his eyebrows. A few other hunters echoed his incredulous chuckle.

I pressed forward, easing away from the other hunters surrounding the door. “How many of these creatures have you squared off with head-to-head?”

He scoffed. “I could ask you the same. ”

“We took out a nest in Wyoming,” Cliff said, appearing behind me.

A lie tinged with truth. It unsettled me to think what had come of Elysia after our departure.

“Get us some iron,” I insisted. “Cliff and I can snuff her out with no more than a burn here or there. She’ll be intact, wings and all.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes. “A whole nest, huh?”

I tried to steady my breathing, knowing that I was too eager, too emotional. And he was trying to figure out why .

When Rhett hesitated in thought, Cliff tacked on, “C’mon, what happened to us being assets?”

A slow smile grew on Rhett’s face as he looked between us. “Tradition says no more than one at a time in the Pit. That’s one I can’t help but agree with. Better decide quickly.” Then he shouted over his shoulder for someone to bring out an iron weapon—no blades or bullets allowed, lest I damage my target too much.

A heavy hand clapped my shoulder. Cliff spun me to face him.

“You don’t have to do this,” Cliff said under his breath, giving me an intense stare—a look that promised he was just as willing to put himself on the line to bring Sylvia home.

“Watch my back," I said.

“Nowak.” Gwen appeared from behind Cliff, giving a small shake of her head. “What the hell are you gonna do?”

I scowled at her. “Whatever I have to.”

Giving Rhett a meaningful look, I stepped forward—this time, there was no resistance. Two Pit keepers stripped me of my weapons and handed me an iron bar. Rhett smiled at me, leaning in close.

“I always thought you were the wildcard hunter between the two of you,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper. “Prove me wrong, yeah? I don’t want a drop of that bitch’s blood gone to waste. And hey—maybe I’ll throw in that silver you’re after if you do this right.”

I took a shuddering breath—hating the smell of him, how he reeked of salt and cologne and bloodlust.

“Touch me again,” I said. “And I’ll cave your head in before hers.”

His face paled slightly. “Easy, Nowak. Save that spirit for the Pit.” Rhett pulled away, sauntering toward the bookie to observe the newest round of cash bets.

One of the Pit keepers unwound the heavy iron chains and lifted the thick wooden blocker from the door. The door swung open into the dimly lit holding walkway, flooding the air with the stale tang of the alp’s blood. A fine mesh of steel netting separated me from the fighting ring’s inner dome—the last fragile barrier between me and what I had to do. My hand closed around the iron bar, gritty and cold against my palm. The sharp, metallic tang of anticipation flooded my mouth as I willed my feet to move.

“Hurry inside before it gets any ideas about flying out,” someone growled near me.

I stepped in, leaving the roaring crowd at my back. The door clanged shut and locked behind me at once.

It wouldn’t open again until one of us was dead.