Jacks, Marcy - The Blind Werewolf Assassin [DeWitt's Pack 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) by Marcy Jacks Page B

started to clear away the gas enough that he could see
    a  little better, though his face felt swollen and weird.
    James’s right arm was dangling and bleeding, but he still managed  to hold his own well enough against the three hunters attempting to  gang up on him.
    Morgan fought like a true warrior and had two dead  hunters at his  feet as he ducked and dodged the coming attacks with his eyes closed,  entirely relying on his ears and the vibrations in the earth like Adam  had.
    Isaac had a deep gash over his right eye that freely bled no matter how many times he wiped it  away. Had Jason not been right next to him, shooting at any man attempting to sneak up on him with one of their blades, he likely would have been killed by now.
    Three men Adam recognized, Steven, Derek, and Eli’s brother  Eric, were on the ground, eyes open and unmoving in death. Eli stood above his older brother, protecting his body even as the anguish on his face told Adam that he knew perfectly well there was nothing that could be done.
    I know exactly how you feel.
    Adam was about to rejoin the fight when  another sound of hissing air stole his attention from behind, and he did a duck and roll just in time before the swing of the machete could take his head clean off.
    The man he saw holding the weapon, his very face, made Adam’s insides freeze up.
    “Deacon?”
    Deacon stopped, clearly stunned to have been recognized. “I don’t
    believe we’ve met.”
    Adam growled at him. “I was one of the wolves who watched you get killed.
    And dead he most definitely had been. Adam had been one of the men, along with James, to pull Deacon out of the pond before his

    64                            Marcy Jacks
    blood could do too much damage to the clear water. He had even
    helped to bury him.
    “You’re dead.”
    Deacon flicked the mean-looking machete in his hand. “Yes, well,
    clearly I’m not.”
    He swung again, and Adam dodged. “Isaac and Mick won’t let  you anywhere near their mates,” he said, recalling the times when  Deacon had attempted to force a claim onto them.
    “I will kill that one wolf for attacking me like he did. Tristan I will  take into my pack because he’s mine. You, I’ll chop your head off just  for the fun of it.”
    He swung again, and clearly he was not used to handling a weapon of this nature over his own claws and teeth, because his swings were sloppy and slow.
    It took Adam a hair of a second to realize what had happened, and
    he took the risk of taking his eyes away from Deacon just long  enough to glance at the other men fighting against the wolves of  James’s pack.
    Not men. Not really. Those weren’t real hunters. They were  werewolves Deacon had recruited.
    That was why Adam couldn’t scent any coming hunters before
    Nick had been shot. It was because there were no humans in the area.
    They’d all been werewolves.
    “You’re getting your new pack to attack us, pretending to be hunters?” Adam asked.
    They could have been talking over beers  with the casual way  Deacon responded to him. “I figured that the hunters must be doing something right. They do kill a couple of us once in a while.”
    The fact that the weres fighting behind Adam, handling their weapons with so much more skill than Deacon,  could only mean that they were recently transformed werewolves, too. Deacon was building a new pack, and he still wanted this land, it seemed.
    “It’s a good idea. Kill us all off, make it look like hunters did it,

    The Blind Werewolf Assassin                      65

    and that way the neighboring packs won’t look twice at you for it,
    back from the dead or not.”
    Deacon smiled, his teeth showing as he pointed the machete at  Adam. “Exactly.”
    “Yeah, well.” Adam took in a deep breath. “James! Deacon is here! He’s alive! He’s not dead! He’s alive!”
    Deacon swung again, and Adam lost his concentration because as