Breed of Havoc (The Breed Chronicles #3) Read Online Free

prey.” He paused for half a beat and a sly smile crossed his face. “There’s always going to be a time when you have to tuck tail and run, and when it’s called for, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. But you can’t hunt demons if you’re always on the run. So, this Phase, you’re going to spend two hours a class with a group of trained hunters. Hunters,” he added, “who’ve had the treatments.”
    “So we’re going to get our butts kicked,” someone muttered.
    Mr. Connor’s smile went wide. “In essence. The first few weeks you’ll probably get your butts served to you more often than not, but you’ll learn, because that’s what you’re here to do.” There was a knock on the door and Mr. Connor gestured to it. “And there are your cans of whoop ass knocking. Come on in,” he shouted.
    Four agents strolled into the classroom. I’d seen a few of them around, but I didn’t know them personally. None were smiling, and they didn’t look particularly friendly or happy to be here. They looked…fierce. And then two agents I did recognize followed them in: Peter Holt and Adam Easton.
    Adam, who was the closest in age to us, wore his usual easy smile.
    “Did someone call for a can of whoop ass?” Peter asked, grinning ear to ear.
    Mr. Connor returned the grin and walked up to Peter to shake his hand. “We did.”
    Peter laid a hand over his heart. “I do love those words.”
    “Want to show this lot how Combat’s really done?”
    “I love those words, too,” Peter said. He glanced at the class and winked. “You might want to stand back for this.”
    Adam ushered everyone toward the back wall as Peter and Mr. Connor began circling each other.
    Some of us had seen Peter in action—or at least semi-action—but we’d never seen Mr. Connor in a fight before. He always showed us the moves he wanted to teach us, but it was usually against another student in slow-motion or with the CMs (Combat Mannequins). After his declaration last Phase that he wasn’t just a teacher but a hunter, too, I was sure most of the class wanted to see him in action.
    Peter danced around him. “Ready?”
    “Ready.”
    Without anymore warning, they started fighting. Peter moved in for the first attack with a quick, left handed jab. Mr. Connor ducked to the side seconds before the hit would’ve nailed him in the face. He pivoted around Peter, elbowing him in the lower back as he moved. Peter winced but charged in again, this time punching out twice with his left, and delivered a third, right-handed strike to Mr. Connor’s stomach. The move seemed to motivate Mr. Connor, because he flew at Peter fast. They both kicked or punched in swift moves I could barely keep up with. They blocked each other’s moves or ducked and dodged out of the way half a second before a kick or punch connected.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other Prospects’ heads moving left and right, trying to keep the fight in their line of sight. But by the time they looked one way, the fight had already moved in the opposite direction.
    Peter ended up a few feet away from Mr. Connor, shoving his shaggy brown hair out of his face. He shot him a slow smile even as his eyes narrowed, then he took off running at him like a bull. Mr. Connor put his fists up to defend, but Peter jumped, twisted in the air, and soared right over Mr. Connor’s head. He landed easily behind him and kicked him in the back.
    Using the momentum to carry him, Mr. Connor flew forward. He rolled on the floor and jumped back to his feet seconds later, like the whole thing had been his idea from the beginning.
    The entire class gasped and cheered them on.
    Mr. Connor spun around. He ran beside the wall and when he neared Peter, Mr. Connor jumped and ran in an arc on the wall. He pushed off, extended his leg in a kick, and hit Peter in the side of the head before his feet touched the ground again.
    They faced off against each other, glaring. They stayed like that for