Chapter 58

My eyes scanned the treeline. The hunter was out there somewhere. There was no fucking way it could’ve controlled Raven the way it did from a distance. How long had it known where we lived?

Fuck, the questions were endless.

The urge to run into the forest—to call the hunter out—was fucking high. But the logical part of me knew just how fucking stupid that plan was.

None of us were safe.

Head on a swivel, my gaze drifted over Raven’s wolf to where Cade had shifted back. He was in bad fucking shape. Lucas and Mom rushed across the lawn to help.

I lost sight of everything when a heavy hand dropped to my shoulder. I tensed, whipping around fast on instinct.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured me, even as my hand locked tight around his wrist. I released him. “Just me.”

“Sorry.” I blew out a long breath and ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry.”

“You okay?” he asked instead.

“What?” I frowned, taking a moment to let his words register. My brain felt sluggish in the comedown. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you—”

“Can you get me Tylenol?” I cut him off. “And water? Please?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied quietly. He went to clap me on the shoulder but hesitated, pulling away instead. Probably fucking smart. I was a goddamn livewire. My skin vibrated with every minute sensation rolling through me.

I watched Raven’s wolf, taking in her steady breaths while rampant thoughts tumbled through my mind. I replayed every moment and calculated the damage I’d done. Minimal. It had to be minimal.

“Is she going to be okay?” Declan asked. My eyes flicked up as he joined me, a half-dressed and disheveled mess. He crouched beside Raven and ran his hand through her fur in one long stroke.

“She’ll be fucking sore,” I said honestly. “She took a beating—we both did—but I did my best to minimize the damage. She might have cuts from the plates in my boots and contact burns from my glove, but she’ll be okay. Nothing broke. I don’t know how long it’ll take for her to shift back, but I imagine she should. I won’t take the gear off until she does just in case. I tried my best, Declan, I promise.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. The defeated look on his face as he studied me was unnerving like he didn’t know what to do with me. “Is this what you’ve become?”

“You asked what I do for a living,” I replied and nodded to Raven. “This is what I do. I deal with rogue shifters and magical creatures.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m good at it,” I said simply. There was no other explanation besides that. “And because I can stop them from hurting people.”

“How many have you killed?”

“The goal is to bring them in, not kill them—”

“How many?” Declan interrupted. My metaphorical armor hardened as I took in the judgment on his face. He’d never fucking understand.

“Nine in two years,” I told him. “Ten if you count the hunter.”

“Ten people,” he whispered. “You’ve killed ten people. Does it… does it even bother you, Killian? Does it faze you that you’re killing people? Honest-to-God people with families and people who care about them.”

Every fucking night when I closed my eyes it bothered me. I almost said those words out loud. I almost told him how my dreams ran red with the blood of the people I’ve killed—that deep down I knew I was no better than any of them.

“No,” I lied. I did so because he didn’t need to know. None of them did.