Last Female Sypher and Her Brother's Friends novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137

And once the ground is wet enough, I’ll have to account for footprints.

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The forest grows denser the farther I travel. Massive roots twist through the ground like skeletal fingers while thick fog curls between the trees.

The musty odor of sweat and humans has me pulling back a few paces.

He is close. Far too close for comfort.

I circle wide. Two hunters sit hidden in elevated brush blinds overlooking a small clearing ahead. In their hands are two snipers, steady and aiming out ahead.

My senses narrow.

I pick up a rock silently and throw it deep into the trees opposite me.

The distraction works instantly. Like the fucking idiots they are, they turn toward the sound.

Faster than their eyes can track, I climb the nearest tree, springing off halfway up the trunk.

The older hunter realizes too late.

“What-”

I drop onto the platform behind him and wrench the rifle from his hands. He’s staggering to his feet when the stock

comes crashing down at his throat hard enough to crush cartilage.

The younger hunter scrambles for his sidearm and fires a clumsy shot in desperation. I hit him before he can fire

another.

The gun tumbles out of his hand, and I grip the side of his head, driving it into the platform railing.

His body goes limp.

More gunfire erupts nearby, and I dart for the trees. The noise must have alerted others.

I grab the older hunter’s knife and disappear into the trees just as voices begin shouting in the distance

“There!” someone shouts.

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Chapter 137

Movement flashes behind me.

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Branches whip across my skin while mud slides beneath my feet, threatening to topple me over, but adrenaline

forces me forward anyway.

A bullet tears through bark inches from my head.

Another grazes my shoulder.

Pain flares hot and sharp, but I don’t dare slow my pace. My eyes scan the area looking for a place to hide. The

animal in me balks at that idea, but reason and logic win out.

“Nowhere to run now,” a hunter yells.

I leap over a ravine and crash through thick brush on the opposite side, forcing the hunters to split paths.

I move deeper using a burst of speed to push more space between us, then duck beneath low branches suddenly,

pivot hard around a tree, and wait.

Voices drift upward suddenly.

“Tracks stop here,” the man says quietly.

“He could have gone up,” another says.

“He’s a wolf, not a monkey,” the first sneers.

They leave. I’m about to move when a scent hits me. Sweet, feminine, speckled with sunlight.

My wolf jerks upright against that barrier.

I’ve smelled this before. Those strange and hunting scents that captured me so thoroughly were all coming from a

golden lock of hair.

Hazel.

The human we’re trying to save.

That thought is chased away by another realization.

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10:50 Thu, Sep 10

Chapter 137

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