Fifty-Two

Isobelle

Austin and I followed the hunters through the forest like we were stalking a prize kill. Owls hooted and bats fluttered from tree to tree as if to muffle our footsteps. Even the moonlight played a part, spilling its ghostly fingers through the mosaic of branches to light the way.

Oh my God, I feel sick with nerves.

Shifters hunting down hunters. The irony was almost laughable. Not that I was skilled in the art of combat or anything, but I learned the basics of how to defend myself from my dad. Austin was acting upon his instincts, using the scents and sounds to guide us through the eerie forest. Don't ask me how, but I felt my husbands close by. I wasn't stupid enough to call out to them and announce our presence. For all I knew, they had been luring the hunters away from our home, from me, and our unborn pup.

If only I could communicate with them, they could tell me what to do. What was I supposed to do? What if I only make things worse?

They don’t know Peter Munroe is a two