Quinn

Dorado

---

The throb in her jaw registered as awareness jerked her eyes open. Trusting her internal senses, she’d only been out for a few minutes. She sat and studied her surroundings. Her hat was gone, as was her duster and her weapons. They’d left her clothes—damn Christian of them—and her boots. Rising, she studied the cell. Sturdy metal bars and double-locking mechanism on the door, everything bolted into brick. A single window looked into out into the alley behind the marshal’s office.

With a twist, she pivoted to face the larger room. Her weapons were laid out on the marshal’s desk. Four of the five anyway, as he’d apparently neglected to strip her to find the derringer tucked behind her belt buckle. God bless the moral high ground. The derringer only had two shots and wasn’t good for anything except close combat, but her continued possession of one weapon gave her further insight into the marshal.

Stretching her jaw tentatively, she paced the cell’s bars, studying them and their construction. No one stood guard inside, so either they trusted the cell to do its work or they…

“If Pa hears you hit a woman,” Micah Kane stated, half-amused and half-disbelieving.

“Then don’t tell him.” Poor man. The marshal actually sounded a tad regretful.

“You did the right thing.” The wolf’s snarl reminded her of a wounded animal. “I don’t know what she was doing, but I couldn’t think for a moment.”

“Jason?” The marshal verbally nudged his brother.

“I can’t get anything off her. I thought I would when she went down, but no. Nothing.”

“I thought you’d been near Quinn before.” The empath used measured tones as though weary. He’d been projecting a great deal of calm, so perhaps she’d consumed more than she’d intended.

Interested in the telepath’s response, she pressed her hand to the locking mechanism. No keys were hung anywhere she could see them, and when she felt her way around to the front of the lock, it was empty. Only an idiot would have left the key in the door. Of course, just such an idiot had locked her into a cell before.

“I only had rumor and speculation to go on. Quinn’s a deadly effective bounty hunter because people don’t see him—”

“Her.” Micah again. The brother sounded inordinately pleased.

Jason’s sigh declared he didn’t share his brother’s amusement. “Fine, her. She is tall for a woman and broad shouldered.”

“That’s the coat.” A shadow fell across the open door, but the man himself didn’t appear. “Or at least the broad shoulders were, because she is tall.”

“Wearing the hat low over her eyes, in men’s clothing, and the way her hair was hidden down the back…don’t let anyone get close.” Kid—he was the empathic one—lost some of the exhaustion in his voice. “Then let the reputation do the rest. People tend to exaggerate what they are afraid of…is he—she—a bounty hunter, or is that part of the reputation?”

The speed at which they arrived at the question startled her. Few ever looked beyond the surface, fewer still knew what she looked like, and she obscured the knowledge carefully by killing anyone who would abuse it.

“Whether she is or not, she’s been here for days and watching the McKennas. That is the greater concern.” Taking charge, the marshal invited no arguments.

His brothers gave him none, nor did the wolf. If her presence alerted them to the McKennas or drew untoward attention to the McKennas, she would need…to get out of the cell. Quinn gripped the lock housing, with one palm out and one in. With no idea of how long she had or when they would step inside, she couldn’t afford to play a waiting game. The time for action had long passed.

They were outside discussing their options. It was the only chance she would have to get to the McKennas before they did. Closing her eyes, she reached inside. All she needed was a spark—and she’d taken out a firestarter. It hadn’t been her choice, but the man had refused to cooperate or calm. Finding the remaining spark, she concentrated the fire to her hands.

Superheating the metal inside the gears would burn her palms, but she’d experienced worse over the years. The latch slipped and she blew out a shuddering breath. Sweat slicked her face, and her shirt clung to her. Throwing a cautious glance toward the outside, she pushed the cell door open.

“Do we warn them?” Micah, the second eldest brother, and like Sam the only other one not Fevered. How two of his brothers became Fevered while he and the marshal remained Fever-free was a question she would need to answer another day. Reclaiming her gun belt, she strapped it on. She pulled the strap of her shotgun over her arm before sliding back into her coat. It took her less than two minutes to re-arm herself.

“Tell them someone was watching them? They’ll run.” Kid’s assessment hit the mark. The McKennas knew better than to draw attention. “We had a hard enough time keeping them from bolting after the dinner.”

The dinner?

She paused on the last. The need to know what they’d learned weighed against her need to get the hell out of there. Lingering invited another confrontation. The swelling of her jaw notwithstanding, she didn’t want to court a battle but the marshal would not be allowed to take another shot at her.

Still listening, she scanned the room as she debated the best escape route. They couldn’t stay outside the whole time or could…? Quinn stepped back, then leaned against the marshal’s desk. The door stood wide open and they were not making any pretense of keeping their voices low. Beyond them, the town’s occupants puttered about their business. Having a delicate conversation where anyone could listen wasn’t wise.

Escape and let them follow.

Confront and perhaps kill them.

Or wait and let them make the next move?

Despite all the rumors to the contrary, she didn’t embrace violence as an answer. The only real question was if their information was worth delaying getting to the McKennas.

“Jason, you and Kid go ask them if they know anything about the bounty hunter…”

“No.” Jason’s implacable answer sent silence blanketing the men. “I have no use for the brother who decided to read Olivia. It is better for all of us if I’m not put in the position of having to deal with him.”

Direct. Cold. Practical.

“He’s right,” Kid said and his boots scraped the wood as though he stood. “They aren’t especially fond of him either. Worried he’ll read them more than they want read.”

“People keeping secrets usually don’t care to have those secrets revealed.” It was an easy answer, and she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“If it were only secrets you went digging after, I could see that, but the idea no one can keep you out is more worrying if you like to keep your thoughts to yourself.” A slap of a hat against fabric accompanied Micah words. “We’re not rehashing this argument. We need a plan before she wakes.”

The silence greeting his statement almost seemed an answer in and of itself. The thunder of hooves—a large number of them—echoed between the buildings.

“Hell.” The marshal’s exclamation preceded the stomp of his boots. “Micah, you and Cody keep an eye on things here. Jason, go and take Kid with you.”

“What about—?” The youngest Kane began to protest, but the speed he cut it off sent a chill along her spine. The others didn’t seem to know she was awake, but the moment she neared the window or open door, she risked discovery. It didn’t matter if they saw her, because the wolf could scent her.

“Marshal.” A new voice called.

“Captain.” Nothing friendly lived in the marshal’s voice.

The cavalry, likely from the nearby fort she’d avoided. Their arrival made her decision. She needed to go, before the Kanes made a move on the McKennas and while the army held their attention. More horses jingled and the rise of voices beyond alerted her to further agitation.

Opening the back door, she found Kid and Jason staring at her. “Surprise.” Kid grinned. “You really should come with us.” The air around them dropped several degrees and she glanced from the empath to his silent brother. The chill came from him—two gifts. The ice she could use, the telepathy, she didn’t want.

Not interested in the conversation or the pissing match, she focused on Jason as the greater threat. His face paled and then ice skittered over the wall. Consuming the cold, she hit Kid with it and he crashed into his brother. A bootstep behind her was the only warning before the wolf locked his arm around her throat. Gripping his arm, she choked his wolf.

Using his weight against him, she twisted and he landed on his back in front of her. Slamming her foot into the side of his head, she went for unconsciousness and had her gun drawn when she pivoted to face Micah. He wasn’t Fevered.

“Ma’am, I don’t like hurting women.” It didn’t change the fact he held a gun or that his expression declared his intention to use it if she gave him no choice.

Too many seconds past during which she debated her next course of action. The Kanes hadn’t done anything to her, not directly, and killing Micah would be a stain on her soul.

“Just put the gun away and talk to us.” He closed the gap between them. Taking advantage of his mistake, she lowered her gun a fraction and he reached for it as though she planned to surrender.

Catching him on the upswing, she struck the side of his head with the butt of her pistol. He went down, and his gun clattered to the floor. Leaving him his weapon, she stepped over the downed wolf and bypassed the others, only to have Jason catch her leg. His weakened grip could hardly hold her, but she paused to look at him.

“You didn’t try to kill us?” The question in his voice resonated.

It deserved a response. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Then she tugged free and left them. Following the narrow space behind the office, she slipped out to the street. More than two dozen army men stood between her and the front of the marshal’s office. Whatever else the Kanes had been doing, they’d wanted her far from the men from the fort.

She agreed with the assessment. Sliding her pistol away, she strode out onto the boardwalk and headed for the livery. The best way to avoid notice involved acting as though she belonged. Heavier steps warned those in front of her to get out of the way, and the lowered brim of the hat kept her face in shadow.

They might remember a man passing through, and may even identify him as someone familiar, but they’d never be able to describe her.

She was a ghost and she had to round up the witches.

Fast.

---

WYATT

Three days in the desert and only slight variations in the landscape before Wyatt made camp. However Buck had done it, Wyatt wasn’t leaving the dreaming until the younger Morning Star allowed it. Clever little bastard hadn’t made himself known, yet he’d slid the trap closed. Understanding kindled within him when Goliath continually refused to saddle and go. The animal was far more sensitive to the dreaming than Wyatt.

It made sense. They’d traveled via the corridors several times over the years, the horse had never liked it. It was why he kept Goliath in the barn when they were on the mountain or let his horse roam when the curtain of the dreaming ventured too close. He found wood and water without any trouble, and Goliath drowsed, his tail swishing with impatience.

Two more days passed before the younger Morning Star appeared at the edge of his camp. “I should have known you’d figure it out.”

“He was your blood father and loved you dearly.” Wyatt rose, then studied the younger man. “It’s the only reason I’m not ripping your heart out for the little trick.”

Nudging the dark hat away from his eyes, Buck nodded once. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re not. How long did you promise him you’d hold me here?” It had to be Quanto. Even in death, the old man hadn’t surrendered the battle for his soul. Anger at his son would serve no purpose, yet he’d helped raise the boy before him.

“It’s not like that.” His sentence echoed with half-truths. Despite the blazing sun overhead and the empty land around him, a cooler breeze stirred the air and sweat beaded Buck’s forehead.

“What’s wrong?” Releasing his irritation at the boy’s presumptive action, he focused on the tightness around his eyes and the tautness in his jaw.

Sweeping his hat off, Buck threaded his hand through his hair. Grief still shone in his eyes, but more, worry lived there. “I can’t find Rudy or Ike.”

The younger siblings had gone to Mexico. They hadn’t returned before Quanto’s passing. “How often have you tried?”

“Every night since…” Emotion choked his voice. “Since father passed. I’ve tried during the day as well. If they were traveling in the desert, they might be sleeping during the day.”

“No luck?” Concern dislodged the last of his aggravation.

“None.” Blowing out a breath, Buck tapped his hat against his thigh. “We’ve got trouble in Dorado.”

“Name the trouble.” It would decide him on whether he should turn south to find Ike and Rudy or go to the Flying K.

“We have a bounty hunter, or we did. Thought she was a male. Turns out she’s not.”

“Women aren’t usually male. What’s the problem with a single bounty hunter?” The marshal could handle a gunslinger; Cody and the others could deal with pretty much all else.

“We can’t find her and she took down Jason, Kid, and Cody.” Not only a bounty hunter then.

“Take me to Dorado.” It was the last place he’d intended to go. He’d wanted to bypass his siblings and go straight for Adam, but he wouldn’t leave them behind in trouble. Not if Adam sent assassins for them.

“What about Ike and Rudy?” He was a good brother. His concern for his siblings radiated over him.

“I’ll take care of them after I deal with this hunter.” They’d come to the mountain too many times. “You need to stay on the ranch and out of sight.”

“I can take care of myself.” Defiance edged his worry.

“Of course you can,” Wyatt said, then whistled. Goliath trotted toward him, stomped his hoof then pawed the ground when he caught sight of Buck. Yes, the horse knew as well as he that Buck was the reason they were here. “You’re the last of your line, Buck.” Before the boy could argue with him, he added, “Even if Delilah carries your child, the siren needs you to be there to raise it.”

At the advice, the younger Morning Star blanched. “She’s not—I don’t think she—we use…”

“I don’t need to know.” Nor did he want to. “You’re the last of your line. No matter what comes next, you have to survive and your wife with you. Now, take me to Dorado.” He’d deal with the hunter. A curl of power pulled his supplies and saddle together, he settled them in place on Goliath. The stallion pawed the ground again, snorting. He wanted out of the dreaming. The world around them began to shimmer, then Buck put a hand on the horse’s bridle and one on Wyatt’s shoulder. The contact, though brief, sent a shudder though him.

The land around him slipped sideways, then green rippled across the barren landscape as the veil between the dreaming and the land sheered away. Trees appeared, then a creek, and finally the rocks and more. A dozen scents assaulted them at once—wood smoke, water, moss, cattle and horse. Those and the unwashed bodies of too many townsfolk stung his nostrils.

The rattle of wagon wheels and the thunder of hooves striking the earth accompanied those of boots on boardwalk. Too many damn people. The noise set his teeth on edge and frayed his temper. The copse of trees Buck had chosen bordered on the Flying K. The veil around the ranch slid over his skin, then withdrew almost immediately.

“Go take care of your wife. I’ll deal with the rest.” He slid his hat on his head, then looped Goliath’s reins over the saddle horn. The stallion relaxed once they stood in the real world again.

“Wyatt…”

Raising his hand, he spared his brother a look. “We won’t discuss your choice again. You honored your father’s wishes.”

“Yes, sir.” A hint of regret touched the acknowledgment.

“If you do it again, we’ll have a moment. Are we clear?”

Buck cleared his throat. “Father wanted you to have a chance.”

Sparing the untested shaman a look, Wyatt shook his head. “Buck, you’re young. Don’t discuss what you don’t understand.”

Squaring his shoulders and raising his chin, Buck met and fought to hold his gaze. “Maybe I understand more than you think. More than I wanted to think. I know what you told Delilah—about my mother and me. I know what my father told me about you.”

Saying nothing, Wyatt stared. They had no time for the purging of emotional wounds, but the lack of fear in Buck’s eyes revealed whatever Quanto had told him hadn’t been the truth. “Do you want me to listen to your tears or deal with the hunter?”

A fierce scowl tightened Buck’s brows. “We don’t know where the hunter is.”

“I gathered as much. I’ll find them. You go to your wife.” Pivoting, he left Buck and crossed the veil separating the ranch from Dorado. The humming increased in volume as soon as he cleared it. Goliath followed him as Wyatt strode for the town proper. The noise level rose with every step he took.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sun had already begun its slow descent. Winter meant the days were shorter, and the weather more unpredictable. The dry land around him decried any recent rain. Disturbed by the passage of horses and wagons, dust rose in swirling clouds, adding a yellow tint to the air.

Uncertain of what lay ahead, he lifted a hand near the edge of the wooded border. “Goliath, wait for me.” The stallion could look after himself and Wyatt’s gear. Buck didn’t follow him. At least in that much, the younger man had listened. At the edge of town, a horse racing across the land behind him drew his attention. He glanced over his shoulder to find Scarlett—too pregnant to be riding astride—approaching at a swift canter. Raising his hand, he cushioned the air around her as she pulled the horse to a bouncing halt.

Her skill as a rider kept her in the saddle. Her temper, however, kept her from the sense the spirits gave women. “Wyatt…” Tears shimmered in her green eyes and his disapproval evaporated. Covering the distance between them in a few strides, he caught her as she slid off the horse in a rapid dismount, then held her as she hugged him tight.

Of all his siblings, Scarlett never shied away from affection with him. “You should be at home, getting ready for your child.” The baby moved within her, and he felt the distinct kick. She was much further along than he expected.

“I knew Buck was going to fetch you, and I knew he wouldn’t bring you in too close to the house.” The main house, where Scarlett lived with her husband and children, was deeper on the Flying K, well away from the borders—a safe place for her and the babes, much safer than on the edge of town. The catch in her voice, and the dampness against his shirt moved him more than he cared to admit. “Whatever that hunter is—Cody and the others said she’s a woman and she stopped his wolf.”

Stopped his wolf? More boot steps scuffed the dirt, a purposeful stride Wyatt recognized. Withdrawing a fraction, he lifted her chin with a finger. “Where is your husband?”

“Right behind you.”

He didn’t smile at the expected answer. Scarlett’s eyes flashed, and she glanced at her husband with a wildness Wyatt was very familiar with. “Don’t,” he told her before she could unleash her anger. “He has a right to defend you and the babe you’re carrying.”

She swallowed hard, then turned her mutiny on him. “Wyatt, you can’t go after this bounty hunter. Sam and the others haven’t found her yet, but Kid and Jason weren’t themselves for a full day.”

“They’re fine now. They were all fine after they got back on the ranch, where you should be.” The marshal held his quiet fury in check with a practiced patience. The love he held for his wife promised his only chastisement would be verbal.

“I wanted to see Wyatt.” Scarlett tightened her grip on his arm, though her voice softened. “Have you found Quinn yet?”

“No, she’s vanished. So has Jenny McKenna.” Extending his hand to Wyatt, he nodded to him. “I was sorry to hear about Quanto.”

Accepting the brief handshake, Wyatt nodded. The sympathies weren’t necessary, but he appreciated the sentiment. “Scarlett, your husband is right. You should return to the ranch.”

“I’m going to help you.” All grit and determination, the little firestarter hadn’t mastered patience or sense sometimes.

“Minx…” Sam exhaled, then jerked his own hat off.

“Don’t edit yourself on my account.” Wyatt turned his sister around and pointed at the ranch boundary. “Scar, go. You’re too pregnant for me to spank, but you can go willingly or I can toss you into the nearest pond.” Water didn’t hurt pregnant women.

“You will not.” Sam peeled Scarlett away from him and gave him a harsh look. “Minx…”

“No, Sam. I will not go be safe. I don’t have to be near the woman to deal with her.”

Already tired of their domestic dispute, Wyatt focused on Sam. “Where was the last place you saw the hunter?”

The arguing couple paused to consider him. After placing his hat on his head, Sam wrapped an arm around Scarlett and gave him a long considering look. “I had her in a cell. She got out while I was dealing with the army, Jason caught sight of her through the window and told us. He and Kid tried to collect her to keep her away from the cavalry. I’m not sure what she did to them, they went down. Then Cody. Micah, she knocked out with the butt of her pistol.”

Nodding once, Wyatt fixed a look on his sister. “Take her home, Marshal. I’ll deal with it.”

Refusal radiating around him, Sam shook his head. “This is my town. Where you go, I will. We’ve had enough trouble borrowed on our account, and while we’re not sure about this hunter, I don’t want her killed out of hand.”

“Marshal, what would you have me do? Collect her and deliver her to your jail so you can let her escape once more?”

“What I’d like is to have some questions answered. She hasn’t broken the law.” The man had his convictions and a streak of honor, two qualities Quanto had admired in Scarlett’s chosen love.

“Then why was she in your cell in the first place?”

“Because she was watching the McKennas,” Scarlett said, then elbowed Sam when he gave her a look. “I trust Wyatt, and you and your brothers don’t have to, but even Kid said he should know the truth about all of this.”

Schooling his features to keep his impatience hidden, Wyatt stared at his sister. “Then tell me.”

“It’s not our secret to tell.” Honor in the marshal had its drawbacks as well.

A twig snapped despite the lack of anyone around them. Wyatt scanned the area. The woods were quiet. Goliath stood near the creek, drinking water but his dark coat let him fade into the shadows. Scarlett’s horse sighed, but hadn’t moved. Grass rustled, the dead blades crunching ever so slightly.

Moving Scarlett between them, Sam put his hand on the handle of his holstered revolver. Sweeping a tendril of his power around them in a circle, Wyatt encountered a weight which didn’t belong. With a snap, he jerked the man off his feet and their eavesdropper hit the ground with a masculine oath. The veil hiding him from sight peeled away.

The lanky male struggled against the hold of his power, then raised his head. Blazing eyes collided with his and power flashed within them.

“Secare.” He whispered a word in an unfamiliar language and power raked across Wyatt’s face. “Sanguino.”

Blood sprayed from his open wounds, the pain a scorch across his flesh. Clenching his fist, Wyatt looped his power around the man’s throat and squeezed. Words needed air, so he deprived him of it. Clawing at the unseen noose, the man struggled.

“Wyatt!” Scarlett reached for him, but Wyatt buffered the air to keep his sister away from his blood. Fire flooded the air, a warning then it ceased when Sam stepped into the space between him and their attacker.

“Mitchell.” They recognized him. “Wyatt, let him go. Mitchell is a friend.”

A friend who snuck up on them and attacked blindly? Wyatt loosened the thread enough to let “Mitchell” breathe, but he didn’t remove it entirely.

“He is the devil,” Mitchell spat between gasps. “He’s hunted my family for years. I will not let you give us to him.”

No doubt existed within Wyatt as to whom the him was, but why would Adam hunt the man? Power sliced toward him again, and he jerked the thread closed before Mitchell could speak.

“You’re killing him.” Sam gritted out.

“No.” It only took a few moments of complete lack of air for the man to collapse. Releasing him, he let him have oxygen, then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from his face. The buffer around him kept Scarlett at bay, and a thought swept the blood from earth beneath him, gathering it into the dirt then pushing it deeper.

He put a boot over the blackened spot to hide the change his blood inflicted on the land. Sam knelt next to the downed man and checked his pulse.

“Is he all right?” Scarlett edged forward.

“He’s alive.”

A shout cut through the air, and another man raced toward them. Surprisingly, Noah ran behind him and tried to catch his arm. Horror crossed the new arrival’s face as his gaze cut to Wyatt.

“Wait,” Sam said, rising to intercept him. The man looked enough like the other to be his brother. “Royce.”

“No. You don’t know what that man is.”

Adam’s enemies seemed to have multiplied in Dorado.

Scarlett made her way in front of him and faced off against the new arrivals. Noah caught Royce’s shoulders and shook him. “We do know who he is. He’s our brother.”

Horror creased Royce’s face. “He’s a monster.”

“No, he’s not.” Scarlett’s ferocious tone did what Noah’s actions hadn’t, they stopped Royce in his tracks. “He’s our brother, and if you try to attack him, I will hurt you.”

“Easy, Scar.” Noah cut in front of Royce, a defensive posture.

“Enough.” Sam said it before Wyatt could. “We’re in the open. All of you, take a breath. Step back. There are no enemies here.”

The pound of hooves announced more interlopers to the twisted little chat. Throwing a buffer up around Scarlett and Sam, Wyatt spared a glanced toward the riders coming in at a fast trot.

Jimmy led the way, his haggard expression paler than usual, but life thrummed within him. The woman riding behind him, however, gave Wyatt more than a split second of pause. A shaman, who wore her power like a shining beacon, swept her attention over the assembled before locking on him. The pulse of Morning Star blood hummed in her veins.

Her horse stopped with only the shift of her balance. The world slowed as her gaze went from Wyatt to Royce then to the downed Mitchell and finally back to him again. The air swelled and Scarlett pressed a hand to her chest. “What is that noise?”

Noah flinched, his brow scrunching, and behind Jimmy and the shaman, the younger man riding with them looked equally pained.

“Minx?” Sam was at Scarlett’s side in a minute. Noah staggered and the boy fell from his horse. Wyatt caught him, barely, and Jimmy jerked his gaze back, then to them as Royce caught a collapsing Noah.

“No, little sister,” Wyatt kept his voice even and calm. He chose Cheyenne because of her blood, a language he hadn’t spoken in more generations than he cared to count. “You must ease the spirits.”

Royce and Mitchell had witch blood. The combination of too much magic had to be agitating the spirits. Scarlett let out another cry.

“Now, little sister. I will not allow you to harm those under my protection.”

“Blue?” Jimmy reached for her hand. “These are my tribe. They are not enemies.”

“The spirits have forsaken you.” She didn’t answer Jimmy, but stared at Wyatt.

“I know, little sister, and they have good reason. Now, stop them…or I’ll stop you.” It was not an answer, but if he had to put them all down he would. She closed her eyes and raised a hand. Sam had Scarlett in his arms and Noah pushed his palms flat against the earth, his dark skin not hiding his pallor or how shaken he was.

“What the hell was that?”

Too many questions and not enough answers. Jimmy turned back to help the fallen, but Blue didn’t relax her vigilance. Keeping the two witches and the shaman in his sights, Wyatt didn’t blame her.

Two witches.

A shaman of the Blood…

Understanding filtered through him. Quanto had never ceded the battle; he’d called new fighters to the field.

“Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Jimmy had the younger man up, and Royce had Noah on his feet. Scarlett seemed dazed, but Sam held her close and Mitchell remained unconscious.

“Not now. Sam, sort them out. I’ll find your hunter.”

At least now he knew why the hunter was there. Adam wanted all those of the Blood eradicated. Dorado had at least four Wyatt could name. Hell would rain down on them soon.

“Wait…”

“Alive.” Done with the argument, he cut his brother-in-law off and silenced him with a glare. “I will bring you the hunter alive. Now take care of Scarlett and the others. Take them behind the barrier.” It might not keep the hunter out, but they’d have more warning. Noah opened his mouth, but Wyatt held up a single finger and he snapped it shut without a word. Independence was a fine quality and his siblings had all been raised to stand up for themselves. At the moment, he’d had enough of the questions and the issues.

Sealing his face wounds closed, he strode for town.

Maybe the hunter would try to kill him and he’d have an excuse to end her to solve the whole issue.

Dead enemies didn’t cause future problems.