CHAPTER SEVENTEEN || HUNTER #3
The expression on our mate’s face went grim and he nodded. Then he spoke a spell—three words in a language I didn’t recognize—and pointed at Shirley and Daryl. A wave of golden light—it would’ve been invisible to anyone who wasn’t a wolf—rolled over them.
The effect was immediate. They both blinked with surprise. Then Daryl yawned and sat down. Shirley wavered, her eyelids drooping.
Then she swayed and sat down as well, the shotgun tumbling out of her hands.
Daryl passed out first. Shirley shot us a terrified glance, as if she knew she was being spelled into sleep against her will, but she followed her husband into unconsciousness an instant later, slumping over.
It definitely wasn’t the first time, but it occurred to me all over again how much power Daniel really had at his disposal. It was a testament to the kind of person he was that he didn’t abuse it.
“Well, this is a mess,” Oliver remarked dryly.
“On the plus side, the monster is gone for good,” Sarah ventured. She glanced at Lee and me. “Is the other one—”
“Dead,” I managed.
“Well, the monsters are toast, but our secrecy in this town is now on the critical list,” Lacey said, frowning at the unconscious Greens. “This is a disaster. We’re not going to have an easy time explaining any of this.”
Harris raised his brows and gave Reed a pointed look. “No. We’re not.”
Then Reed sighed. “Yeah, I know. I need to call Topher. Damage control.”
* * *
After Daniel checked on Jensen—who was still unconscious—and determined that he’d probably be fine, Reed told the rest of us to head back. He and Harris could handle the clean-up.
The three of us drove back to the commune as dawn broke, the sun rising along the eastern horizon.
The three of us were all exhausted. Daniel sat between Lee and me in the truck, his head on my shoulder, his eyes half-closed. Lee drove this time, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Daniel’s knee.
We’d done it. The Mara were dead. Jensen was alive. The town was safe again.
Days like this, I was proud to be a wolf. I hadn’t asked for it, sure. But Lee and I were basically expert-level badasses who had majored in advanced badassery. And we’d saved Jensen’s life. The three of us, working together as a team.
I let a smile creep across my lips and I felt a bone-deep satisfaction that had nothing to do with the violence and everything to do with the people beside me. Whatever else was complicated about our lives, this part had turned out to be simple beyond words.
Lee parked the truck at the edge of the commune. We walked the path to our cabin in comfortable silence, shoulders bumping, Daniel’s hands finding mine and Lee’s.
“I need a shower,” Daniel mumbled. “And sleep. About twelve hours of it.”
“I second that,” Lee said.
“Third,” I agreed.
We rounded the walkway that led up the ridge to the cabins. And then I stopped in my tracks.
The door to Daniel’s cabin—his old cabin, the one across the commune that he hadn’t used since the first night with us—was ajar.
Daniel stared at it. “Maybe the wind blew it open?”
I doubted that. Light spilled from the windows and the doorway. And I could see, even from this distance, that the desk drawers had been pulled open and papers were scattered across the floor.
Someone had been searching through Daniel’s things.
Daniel must’ve seen the same thing, because he suddenly went rigid beside me. His hand tightened on mine hard enough to hurt. Through the bond, I felt a spike of fear.
Warily, we made our way into the cabin. Lee went first, I went next, and Daniel last, with me standing between him and whoever we were about to confront.
Four people were waiting inside the cabin. I recognized all of them.
On the couch sat a tall, silver-haired man with a face like carved stone and cold, appraising, gray eyes that swept over us without warmth.
Beside him was a sharp-featured woman with dark hair pulled back severely into a bun, her posture radiating authority and disapproval in equal measure.
Her eyes widened with visible surprise when she saw Lee and me standing side by side.
And seated at Daniel’s desk was a broad-shouldered man, maybe a few years older than Daniel, who shared his jawline and dark hair but none of his warmth. He looked at our warlock with narrow eyes, his expression bordering on angry.
The fourth person in the cabin was a young woman, maybe a year or two older than Daniel, with black hair and Daniel’s dark eyes, standing slightly apart from the others.
She was the only one whose expression held anything resembling complexity.
There was guilt and determination and something that might have been regret plastered across her face.
Lee let out a low breath, like he’d just been punched in the gut.
I understood.
We’d grown up next to these people, before we’d understood who and what they were. We’d knocked on their door countless times in childhood, asking if Daniel could come play outside.
They were the Henbanes. Daniel’s family had come for him at last.