Anónimo

Bristlebrook is up in smoke, my brutes are dead, and Sam’s camp is a powder keg begging for a flame. Injured and furious over their losses, the surviving hunters are preoccupied with their own problems. Their factions and allegiances. Their internal wars and pissing contests. The new world they want to forge. They don’t look twice at their meek little captive.

Since the Final War, I’ve been doing just fine. I have a lovely cave, a darling vegetable patch, forest views . . . and if loneliness sometimes squeezes my aching heart, well, my books have always kept me company. That is, until a pack of hunters chase me from my home and right into the arms of several rather large, rather brutish ex-Army Rangers. And those brutes have the nerve to make me the rudest offer I’ve ever heard. Their protection—for my body.

When a chance encounter sparks an unlikely bond between rival murderers Sloane and Rowan, the two find something elusive—the friendship of a like-minded, pitch-black soul. From small-town West Virginia to upscale California, from downtown Boston to rural Texas, the two hunters collide in an annual game of blood and suffering, one that pits them against the most dangerous monsters in the country.