The coppery scent of blood clung in the air, undercut by the acrid stench of urine. The man tied to the chair in front of me was shaking now, his breathing shallow. He looked at me with his one good eye, the other one swollen shut and I could see the hope there.
He thought he would live.
He wouldn't.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the photograph again.
The image caught the light from the single bulb swinging above us, illuminating the face of the boy, the same boy Eldon had burned into my mind days ago.
The kid's grin was frozen in time, dirt smudged across his cheek, the sigil dangling from his hand as he stared up at a pretty young woman who was waiting next to a taxi.
I held the photo up to the man's face, tilting my head slightly as I waited for him to look at it. His good eye darted toward the image, then back to me, wide with terror.
"I…I don't know him ," he croaked. "I swear, I — "
Lying. His pulse hammered too fast in his neck, giving him away.
FIND HIM
Eldon's voice slammed into my mind, sharp and searing. My hand tightening around the hilt of the blade.
I fought down the instinct to resist, knowing it was futile. The more I did, the tighter Eldon's grip would become.
Slowly, I leaned in, letting the blade hover just above the meat of the man's thigh.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head frantically. "I can't—"
The compulsion surged again, burning through my veins like molten iron. My hand moved of its own accord, driving into his leg.
He screamed, the sound bouncing off of the stone walls, as I ground the blade against his bone.
"In the market," he gasped. "The alley near the south end. That's where his family lives."
FINISH IT
The blade moved, slashing cleanly across his throat. His mouth opened in a silent gasp of shock as he slumped forward, his final breath rattling in his chest.
I wiped the blade clean on his shirt, then stepped back and reached for my jacket, still folded on the table by the door.
He wouldn't get far. They never did.
Hours later, I found myself at the mouth of the alley. The boy's scent lingered here, the faint musk of fur tangled with the other's who'd passed through. It led to an entrance on the left, a rusted metal door hanging slightly ajar.
Something moved above me. My head snapped up, catching the faintest glimpse of a face in the upper window before it vanished from view.
A lookout, perhaps. The pack had finally grown wary. Good.
I stepped inside, my boots scuffing deliberately against the tile floor, letting the sound echo down the narrow hallway.
"We know why you're here," a man said from up ahead. "He meant no harm. He's just a child."
I walked toward him, my footsteps measured and slow. The faint outline of a man emerged from a doorway, his shoulders squared in a defiant stance. I could sense the others, their fear was unmistakable, sharp and sour in the air.
His face drained of color as his gaze was drawn to the scar circling my throat. Recognition dawned in his eyes. He knew who I served.
"We can pay," the man said quickly, his words tumbling over themselves. "Anything, just name your price."
I didn't answer. I reached into my jacket, pulled out the photograph, and held it up for him to see. I kept my arm steady, the image angled so there could be no confusion about why I was here.
The man's breath hitched. "He didn't know what it was," he said. "He's just a kid—"
I raised a hand, palm outward, cutting him off without a word.
This wasn't even about the sigil at this point. It was the principle, like pulling thread from a tapestry, that young woman had unknowingly unraveled the respect, fear, and power that Eldon had spent decades weaving. She tore at the fabric of his authority.
He couldn't allow that and this child was going to be used as an example.
I tucked the photo away and took a step closer.
Another male appeared in the hallway. His hands already shifting, claws extending as his protective instincts overrode his better judgment.
"You're not taking him," the younger man snarled, blocking me from advancing further. His muscles tensed, his body coiled like a spring about to snap.
I sighed inwardly, my patience thinning. Pack bonds had a way of making people stupid, driving them to throw themselves against impossible odds.
He lunged at me, claws aiming for my throat. I side stepped at the last second and caught his wrist mid-air. With a sharp twist, I heard the satisfying crack of bone. The older man made a strangled sound of protest but didn't move to help. He knew better.
I released the younger man's wrist, watching him collapse to the ground, cradling his arm against his chest. His head bowed, his defiance extinguished.
Without another glance, I moved deeper into the building, following the boy's scent. It led me to a kitchen. He was huddled in the corner, his small frame pressed against the wall. A woman knelt beside him, her arms wrapped protectively around his shoulders.
She looked up as I entered, her eyes blazing with desperate fury. "Monster," she hissed. "He's just a baby."
I didn't respond. I studied the boy's face instead, noting the way his wide eyes darted between me and the boarded-up window to the right of us. He was calculating, planning his escape. Clever, but not clever enough.
BRING HIM.
Eldon's voice thundered through my mind, like a tidal wave causing my hands to twitch involuntarily.
The boy seemed to sense the shift in my attention, his body tensing. Before I could react, he bolted. Not toward the door, as I'd expected, but directly toward the boarded window. His shoulder hit the boards harder than I expected, but they held. The impact threw him backward, and he hit the ground hard, limbs splayed.
For a moment, he just lay there, stunned. I reached him before he could scramble to his feet. He didn't fight me, not really. Whatever spirit had driven him to run seemed to bleed out in that instant.
By the time I returned to camp with the boy, the moon had reached its peak. He had stopped crying, his shoulders set with resignation.
I paused at the perimeter, my eyes scanning the dark for any signs of movement. The camp was quiet, unnaturally so. Even the generator had been turned off, leaving only the faint rustle of the wind against canvas.
Eldon's tent loomed up ahead. Like the others, it was lit from within by a few lanterns. A few neighboring tents gave off the same light, likely left on by people who'd forgotten to switch them off before falling asleep.
As I neared Eldon's tent, the muffled silence broke. I'd passed through the edge of whatever sound ward he'd set up and inside, voices rose in a sharp argument.
"—don't care what Hightower said," Cassie was saying, her tone sharp, clipped. "We need to move faster. Every day we delay gives them more time to—"
I stepped inside, keeping a firm grip on his shoulder as I guided him forward. Eldon looked up from the papers spread before him, his expression unreadable.
Cassie stood across from him, arms crossed. Her face shifted the moment she saw the boy. The frustration in her eyes darkened into something closer to disgust. She grabbed a few pieces of paper and a journal from the table before striding out of the tent. Smart woman.
The third occupant, Eliza, lingered in the corner with her arms wrapped around herself, as if trying to vanish. Her skin was pale, and her eyes had the distant, unfocused look of someone already half gone. Eldon was nearly finished with her. She wouldn't be able to sustain him much longer.
"Ah," Eldon said, "our little thief. Perfect timing." He looked at me, pleased. "You never disappoint, Laeris."
I said nothing as I stepped aside.
The boy stiffened beside me, his hands curling into fists. His head tilted back to look up at Eldon, his chest rising and falling in shallow, frantic breaths.
Eldon turned to Eliza, his smile fading. "Since you failed to do as I asked," he said, his tone cold, "you can assist with this lesson instead. Consider it... remedial education."
Eliza's face went sheet-white. "I—"
"Hold him," Eldon said, his command snapping like a whip. The stone at her throat flared green, and her body responded at once. Whatever will she had left vanished as the compulsion took hold. She stepped forward without hesitation, placing one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other around his wrist.
He moved slowly around the table, each step deliberate. From the open leather case, he drew a curved silver blade.
"Do you know why you're here?" Eldon asked, his tone conversational.
His lips trembled, but he managed to speak. "I... I can give it back. The necklace. Here."
He reached into his pocket with shaking fingers and pulled it out. The chain spilled from his hand, catching the light as it swung.
Eldon didn't take it. His smile sharpened, turning cold. "Oh, I'm sure you would like that," he said. "But this isn't about that anymore."
He crouched to his level, the blade hanging loose in his hand. "The hand that stole," he murmured, "let's start there, shall we?"
The boy's eyes went wide as he screamed, the sound high and panicked. He twisted against Eliza's grip, but the blade was already coming down with clean, practiced precision.
As the limb fell on the floor, the boy's form shuddered, rippling unnaturally as his bones began to reshape. His human features melted away, replaced by fur and a narrow snout. Where a child had knelt moments ago, a young jackal now crouched, its front leg ending in a bloody stump.
"Hello?" A woman called from outside. "Is everything alright?"
Eldon hissed, his composure slipping for the first time. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing as he caught a scent on the air. He stared toward the tent wall, his voice barely audible. "She heard it."
For the first time, there was real uncertainty in the way he spoke.
The tent went still, the only sound was Eliza's ragged breathing.
The jackal let out another keening cry and scuttled away. Eliza, still shackled by Eldon's compulsion, made a halfhearted grab for it but missed.
"She heard him," Eldon whispered, more to himself than to us. "Through the wards. How did she—"
Eldon gestured sharply to Eliza. "Go. Distract her." She moved immediately, slipping out into the night, feigning concern as she called out. Through the bond, I felt Eldon's attention split, pulling power to contain the situation. It left a sliver of slack in his hold on me.
Eldon brushed his fingers over the ward crystal and it pulsed a deep purple, still active. He nodded to himself, the bloody knife still in hand, then stepped outside to join them.
The clamp around my mind eased. His attention had shifted entirely to her. I backed away, slow and silent, slipping out the rear of the tent. Crouching low, and hidden in shadow I watched as the shifter's severed limb pulsed, muscle and fur knitting themselves back together until the leg was whole again.
How was this possible? Silver wounds couldn't heal, not like this.
The jackal backed away from her slowly, its newly healed leg testing the sand. It paused, staring up at her with wide, gleaming eyes. She didn't notice. Her attention had shifted to Eliza, her body turning slightly as they spoke.
That was all the jackal needed. It turned and bolted, a blur of shadow slipping between the tents before vanishing into the hills.
I didn't hesitate.
Eldon hadn't noticed the leg. Not yet. I intended to keep it that way.
The hunt took longer than I'd anticipated. The trail was faint in places, scattered over dry ground, but I didn't lose it. He had gone farther than I'd expected.
I spotted him tucked between the rocks, half-hidden. He had shifted back into human form but hadn't moved. Shock had rooted him in place.
I approached slowly, keeping low, careful not to shift the gravel underfoot. When I was close enough, I didn't hesitate. I struck him at the temple with precision and control, just enough to drop him without doing real damage.
He crumpled. I caught him before he hit the ground.
I turned him in the moonlight and examined the limb Eldon had taken. The arm was whole. The skin was smooth, the joint fully formed. Just above the elbow, a thin scar marked the place where it had been severed. It was faint but permanent. The arm had grown back.
That shouldn't have been possible. Regeneration from silver wounds didn't happen. Our kind had no healers. We either mended quickly or not at all. With silver, you lived with the damage or you died from it.
My fingers drifted to my throat, touching the thick scars. The first thing Eldon did when he bought me was sever my vocal cords. He had no use for my voice. He had his own power, and he wasn't about to let mine challenge it.
I emptied my mind of what I discovered, forcing the thought away before it could take hold. If Eldon sensed even a trace of it through the bond, if he realized I'd found an opportunity after all these years, he would stamp it out before I had a chance to capitalize on it.
The boy had to die. That much was certain.
And yet, I hesitated.
I should've slit his throat by now. Quick and clean. A mercy compared to what Eldon would do if I brought him back.
But I could also let him go.
This was a risk.
And yet, I was willing to take it.
Even if I found my freedom and escaped, I was too weak to kill Eldon. I needed to disappear. The pack would owe me a life debt for sparing his life.
Crouching, I took the boy's hand in mine. He didn't stir, just breathed evenly. The smallest finger would be enough.
The cut was quick and clean. Blood welled fast, but I had already torn a strip from my shirt. I pressed it to the wound and bandaged his hand, tying it tight.
If Eldon asked, I could say I took care of it. He was distracted enough that he wouldn't question the details.
Back at camp, I followed the path to the woman's quarters. Eldon was already inside. I slipped through the flap and stepped forward, drawing the cloth-wrapped bundle from my pocket.
He turned sharply, annoyance flashing across his face at the interruption.
I held the bundle out to him without a word.
He hesitated, then took it from my hand. As he unwrapped the cloth and saw what was inside, his expression shifted. The tension in his jaw eased, and a faint smile touched his mouth.
"Good," he said. "At least something went according to plan tonight."
Eldon looked at Eliza with hunger. He was stretched thin, burning through his reserves. The signs were there, whether he admitted it or not.
He turned to me. "Stay with her. If she wakes, make sure she drinks more of the draught."
I sat beside her cot, my hand dipping into my jacket pocket. Lighting a cigarette with steady hands, I drew in a slow breath before exhaling, watching the smoke curl lazily into the air.
From the corner of my eye, I checked her breathing. I kept the examination clinical, careful not to look at her too closely. If Eldon rifled through my thoughts, and he would eventually, he would find nothing.
It was the first time in days I hadn't felt him pressing at the edges of my thoughts. The silence didn't bring peace. It only marked his absence.
And I savored it.