Jax’s POV
A low, guttural growl, close. Too close.
We all froze, hands going to weapons. From behind a scrub of creosote, a pair of yellow eyes glinted. A big coyote, mangy and bold with hunger, was staring at us. At the fresh-turned earth. It saw us as rivals for a meal.
Before I could speak, it lunged. Not at me. At Rook, who was closest to the graves.
It moved like a gray-brown streak. Rook shouted, fumbling for his gun. Spider was faster. His pistol barked once, a sharp crack that echoed off the canyon walls. The coyote dropped mid-leap, a dark hole between its eyes. It hit the dirt with a soft thud, dead.
The silence rushed back in, thicker than before. We all just stared at the dead animal.
“Take it,” I said, my voice rough from disuse. “Toss it in the truck.”
Spider looked a
