Page 60 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

“You aren’t hurting anyone, killing anyone, or destroying anything.”

I pause. Yes, there is that. Holding my nature back is getting harder and harder, but I can do it, for her.

“I’ve changed my ways.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t believe you.”

“Meh, I don’t care if you don’t believe me, it's the truth. I’m a different alpha. One full of conviction and principles.”

“Yeah, I give you two minutes.”

“Nice, Rory.”

“What can I say, you’re cut from the same cloth as the rest of us. Pretending to be something else is only going to work so long, and then you’re going to have to face all your lies.”

“Take your wisdom and shove it up your ass, Astor.”

Rory laughs and takes three steps off the trail, disappearing.

I ignore him, instead thinking about this parasite we’ve picked up. Not going to happen, not on my watch.

I slip through the darkness, hiding in it like I’m just a living extension, like I was born in them. My movements are confident, but not wasteful, each step I choose is one step forwards to a successful hunt.

I catalogue the sounds of the night, the paths and trails I’ve already mapped in my head are now traps. Or part of my traps because I’ve laid some vicious ones that will do some damage to anyone following my omegas.

I can feel Pix watching, waiting, a silent shadow in my mind, his scent the perfect decoy. He knows I’m using him, it's why he followed me out here.

I climb up a tree and perch in the branches, watching the bottle neck. There’s only one place left to cross the river, I’ve cut all others off.

The noises of the night suddenly cut off. I don’t tense up, I don’t even turn so I can fully see the path, I just watch out of the corner of my eye.

He’s not a big hunter, but he’s cautious.

He’d have to be to have evaded detection for so long.

His arrogance is astounding. He approaches the river and wades in, up to his knees.

My trap springs. The metal jaws I laid snap closed around his ankle, breaking it and biting through his flesh like it’s paper. I drop from the tree and approach the river, watching him struggle. He goes under and bounces up, his head tipped back in agony.

“Hello,” I say politely.

I don’t bother with masks like the Prince Pack do. I don’t leave survivors.

Ever.

“You were following us, and I’m curious, I just want to know why?”

He shakes his head, tears rolling down his cheeks, joining the icy river water and running away.

“No, just hiking.”

“Hiking? Where’s your stuff?”

He opens his mouth, pauses because he knows he’s caught, and adjusts course.

“I lost it.”

“Why didn’t you go back?”