The scene that greeted me when I reached the compound’s entrance made my heart stutter. Pack members—some shifted and some in human form—charged at hunters. Bodies from both sides lay lifeless on the ground that was soaked with blood.
Horrified, I searched the unmoving corpses for my friends. I wanted everyone to survive, but if any of the guys I’d grown to love lost their lives, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. When I didn’t see any familiar faces on the ground, I moved faster toward the group of hunters ahead. They were easy to identify as they were all dressed in black—some wearing ski masks.
My stomach practically dropped to my feet when I spotted a face that had been a source of many of my nightmares. The hunter who killed Aunt Lydia and chased me to New Orleans. He stood in the middle of the bloody frenzy, surveying the area as if looking for someone. Maybe he searched for me.
Heart hammering and sweat forming on my forehead, I took a tentative step in his direction. Still, I had my shoulders squared, and chin tilted in defiance. I’d never let him or any of the hunters know how terrified I was. I didn’t see Cole anywhere until I was closer to the hunter from my nightmares, and I heard him shout my name.
“Sydney! Get back!” he roared.
That alerted the hunter to my presence. He turned, eyes zeroing in on me. Our gazes locked. His eyes widened slightly and then gleamed with satisfaction. His sinister smile was enough to make me turn and run, but I stood my ground.
“Am I dreaming, or did my favorite half-breed just walk right into my hands?” The ghastly scar extending from his left eyebrow to his right cheek moved as his smile grew. His appearance alone was terrifying.
From my periphery, I saw Cole running toward us. I glanced at him apologetically and turned back to the hunter.