“Looks like we’ll have to make. . .” I trail off the moment another man steps through the trees and grins, his gun pointed at me. “Never mind,” I announce. “Found some.”

Who cares if there are currently men attached to them? Four specifically. We need the guns and they’re clearly already underestimating us despite Creed’s appearance beside me and Row on the other side. I hold up my hands in a placating gesture and the head honcho laughs. What is it with them all thinking I’m so funny no matter what I do? I hold up my hands, funny. I get lippy, funny. Hell, if I take a shit in the woods, there’s probably assholes at Predator Point laughing their asses off. These dickheads are clearly no different.

The head guy looks between the three of us and ultimately settles on Row where he stands beside me, his posture less tense than I expect. For most of the time, it was clear Row was about as built for this as I am, but now, he’s getting used to it. He looks casual and in charge, and somehow, that makes him even sexier. Besides all that, there’s that beast under his skin, the one he inherited from his father, waiting to be released. We haven’t seen it yet. I don’t know when or if we will, but it’s there. Row is more a danger than the others realize.

Achilles’ nickname for him, little mouse, doesn’t really seem to apply anymore.

“Hey, Hawthorne,” the guy says with a grin. “I heard you already made some kills yourself. Congrats.”

Row barely nods his head. “Fitzpatrick.”

The guy, Fitzpatrick, reaches into a bag at his side. It’s stained with blood along the bottom. As a matter of fact, it looks like it’s still dripping blood. Either way, it doesn’t surprise me much when he pulls a literal head out of it. Christ, these assholes might as well be predictable at this point.

“Check out this one I nabbed,” Fitzpatrick says, holding up the head proudly. “Took my own trophy for this hunt. I think I’m going to taxidermy him for my office. Maybe move his face into a scream. Think that’ll be dramatic for business meetings?”

Row shifts and I can tell the conversation is uncomfortable but he’s an elite. He plays along as if we’re not having a discussion over a severed head.

“Yeah, you’ll definitely get more deals with a severed head in there,” Row responds, acting casual. He even tucks his hands into his pockets as if he’s unconcerned about the other three behind Fitzpatrick pointing guns at us.