Nemesis - Book 3 of the Hunted series.

Chapter 13- A kind of end

Like they weren't there, Clayton moved towards him, ignoring them. They may as well have not been there for all he cared, apparently, because he had something that looked like a giant ...branch. Maybe. It was pretty thick, about two inches, and pretty long. Looked like it'd give splinters. He had that frightening look on his face again, that one that was all cold and nothing of the occasional warmth I'd see from him directed at hsi family, and he tossed the man over.

 Everyone cringed. The sound of the scream and blood made everyone look green, except somehow, Clayton. He just continued to stare down with that indifferent look on his face. "That's from Kate."

Even professional soldier type people struggled with that sight. Several of them went green and backed off. 

"Is he dead?" One of the remaining ones demanded, jabbing the gun at me, and Clayton growled lowly, stepping closer to me. "Your pack agreed he'd be left alive."

"Get him out and he'll be fine." I replied, shutting my eyes, that steady body beside me now a relief. I felt exhausted. So tired. I just wanted to go home, throw up, cuddle up to Nick or Antonio or Daniella or Reece or ...anyone... any pack. I wanted my pack."Do you need to point those things at us? I don't know who the hell you are but if our pack agreed anything with you, that means we're on the same side here."

They ignored me and didn't lower them till someone went over to check him. 

"Where's his ..."

"Went missing." I couldn't believe how casual and so carefree I sounded about that. It was so easy to just not care. I felt bad, sort of, but not so bad. He'd still survive, most likely. 

"Who are you all?" I opened my eyes and stared at them.

"Cabal." A woman's voice came. She leaned into a radio, informing them that we'd been located, and heard the gentle buzz as someone promised an airlift out of here. "We'll return you both to your Alpha."

As we were escorted out, the guns lowered, but Clayton's watchful eyes keeping them at a safe distance, Ana reappeared. She was dressed now, as were the other were-jaguars, and I had to only assume that some of them had gone back for their belongings. Or maybe a car was close. She ducked under the grown men and women 'swat' people, their expressions priceless as they watched an eleven year old with jaguar-marked skin ignore them, so she could jab a pen and paper in my direction.

"Can I add you to my facebook? What's your number? Email?" I wrote them down for her as she gave me a notebook with her details, full of energy compared to my sudden exhaustion, adding,"Dad said I could go to America to go to high school if you promised to let me stay with you. Can ..."

The man who'd been with us earlier stepped forward to wrap an arm over her shoulder. He smiled a slightly apologetic smile at me and tugged her gently back. "We talk later about that."

In the end we had to walk back, the storm crashing over us and making it impossible for the helicopter to come, and I followed as I tried to fight waves of exhaustion. I wasn't sure why. He had hit me in the head, was it a concussion? Was it because I'd been going non-stop since ...what time had we gotten up?

They were carrying Aaron on the stretcher behind us, I heard them inform his father of the injury, and was relieved to hear laughter. Relieved but I also was starting to felt sorry for him. Was that crazy? My father would never have laughed at me if I was hurt, even if it was because I did something stupid, like trying to prove that I could walk across slippery monkey bars while it was raining. I'd broken my leg and hit my head pretty badly back then and he'd been so damn worried that I thought he'd cry. He laughed at me later, of course, but when I was injured and in a bad way? Not even a smile.