Before Danny could react, I swiftly knocked him out with a knifehand strike as I finished my sentence quietly. “But I can’t stand by and do nothing.”
I caught his limp body and gently dragged him to the side, laying him down carefully.
Sorry, Danny. I had to knock you out. If the others in Bluevera found out you spilled the plan, they'd come after you hard. By doing what I was doing, hopefully they would assume that you got hurt trying to stop me, and therefore keep you out of trouble.
My ears perked up at the sound of raised voices coming from the tent. I tiptoed over and peeked through a slit in the canvas, checking out the commotion inside.
In the middle of the tent sat a man in his late 50s or early 60s. His hair peppered with gray, his square-jawed face radiated authority. This had to be Alpha Bryce Whitestone, Natalie’s father.