Chapter 53 ~ANGEL'S POV~

I'M HUNCHED OVER, SUCKING IN AIR as blood dribbles down my chin. Wincing, I yank out the arrows lodged in my chest one by one, the pain making me hiss through my teeth. I rise to my feet with a grunt and lift my shirt, watching in morbid fascination as my wounds close up like some sick magic trick.

Winter's breath hitches, her hands clapping over her mouth as if to trap her gasp inside. "How did you—?" she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. "How...?"

I chew on the inside of my cheek, at a loss for words. I'll just have to tweak her memory later. For now, I turn my attention to the Hunters or WVH, as Winter calls them. They advance with unhurried steps, dressed to kill—literally. Their sleek, charcoal gray outfits hug their muscular bodies like a second skin, while dark grey armor plates enhance their silhouette, covering all the important bits like chest, back, shoulders, forearms, and shins. Their utility belts, laden with pouches and holsters, hold an array of weapons and tools