The Damned's decided that their dropsite for this particular mission would be a crumbling textile mill on the edge of Ironhaven, its rusted machinery and broken windows was a perfect mask for their kind. Drew leaned against a concrete pillar looking at the stolen crates of medical supplies at his feet. The slight sting of the hunter's dagger still burned in his side, but it wasn't the wound that kept him restless. It was her—those her green eyes, that her wildflower-metallic mixed scent, and the way she looked at him like she could see straight through his cursed soul. Something else said in his mind, you know the look could have been that of someone wanting to kill you and you are misjudging it? He laughed a little, thanking God it was somehow dark and his pack would not notice the look on his face as he remembered.
"Sloppy work, Drew," Matthais drawled, lounging on a rusted loom. His silver-streaked hair caught the dim light filtering through the boarded windows, and his smirk was as sharp as his claws. In this case, it may have seemed sharper. "Letting a hunter live?" he continued, "Your father would've gutted her on the spot. And of course left so little she wouldn't be recognized by her team."
Drew's jaw tightened and he said "My father's dead. And I'm not him." The curse pulsed in his veins, a reminder of the bloodline that had damned him mostly and somehow his pack. He shoved it down with a single thought, trying to focus on the present. "She was just one hunter. We got what we came for, didn't we?"
Rhona snorted, as she bandaged a gash on her arm. "One hunter who almost carved me up. She wasn't working alone, you know that Drew. They definitely would come for us since they have spilled a little of our blood." Her dark eyes flicked to him, sharp with accusation but softened by years of loyalty. "You should've let Matthias finish her," She added.
Lena hovered near the crate, her fingers tracing the vials of antibiotics. "She didn't seem that bad," she mumbled, then shrank under Matthias' glare who was not smiling. "I mean, she didn't kill anyone, right?"
"Yet," Matthias snapped. "Hunters don't negotiate, dear pup. They hunt. They kill. And now she knows how to get to us since she has wounded one of us."
Drew ignored Matthias, his mind taking its time to replay the fight. The hunter had been fast and superbly trained, but there was something else he noticed and that was that her scent wasn't fully human. It gnawed at him, like a memory he couldn't place. "Enough," he said, his voice cutting through the tension. "Rhona, inventory the supplies quickly. Lena help her. Matthias, scout the perimeter with the Ezekiel and Ralph. I want to know if anyone's sniffing around apart from her. Don't contact the others yet, till we are out of the clear on this."
Matthias lingered like if he wanted to say something, his eyes narrowing, but he slunk off without another word. Drew didn't trust him—never had—but the elder's knowledge of the old ways kept him useful. Too useful to throw away for now. Maybe he should do something about it one day. But not today.
As the pack did their duties, Drew slipped to the roof, hoping for more air and freedom for his thoughts. The city around and ahead looked more of a maze of neon lights and decay buildings. Ironhaven was a cage, trapping the Damned between human hunters and the Werewolf Council's enforcers. He rubbed his side, where the hunter's blade had grazed him. The wound was already healing strangely with the aid of some of the antibiotics and medicines they got from the steal. The antibiotics were specially crafted from unlicensed human test. But the curse made his wound itch, like if it was clawing its way out.
A faint movement from nowhere snapped him alert. His claws extended, and he spun toward the sound where he felt the sound should be comming from. He saw nothing but shadows. Then that familiar scent hit him again—wildflowers and steel. Ah, his new favourite hunter. His heartbeat started to pick up, the curse humming in his blood.
"Show yourself," he growled, scanning the darkness with more with his eyes than any other sense. A black-jacket figure stepped into the moonlight, her hood pulled low but those same green eyes were unmistakable. The hunter. She held no weapon, her hands raised, but Drew wasn't fooled. Hunters were never unarmed. Nor were they the type to just surrender after a fight. One where they were almost killed.
"You're bold, coming here; you know" he said, stepping closer and drawing his steps. His voice was low and dangerous, but his body betrayed him, drawn to her like a moth to flame. "Or just plain stupid."
"Call it curious," she replied calmly, her voice steady despite the half-human predator looming over her. "You could've killed me back there and a lot more. Why didn't you?" she asked.
Drew's lips twitched, almost a smirk. "Maybe I like a challenge. And you didnt seem like one." He circled her, his senses swallowing and taking in every detail about her that it could—her steady heartbeat, the faint tremor in her fingers. Not fear, he realized. Something else, maybe anticipation. So he asked "who are you, hunter?"
"Elena," she said, saying her name as if it was a dare. "And you're Drew Caroll, alpha of the Damned wolf pack. A rogue. An outcast. And probably rumoured to be cursed." She tilted her head, studying him. It looked funny to him. "Am I close?" she asked.
His blood ran cold. She knew too much. He now thought if Matthias suggestion was a good idea. Maybe he should have just listened. Then the curse stirred, urging him to silence her, but he held back. "What do you want, Elena?" he asked suspiciously.
She stepped closer, showing fearlessness, her scent going around him. "Answers. You're not like the others I've hunted. There's something… different about you."
Before he could respond, a howl split the night—that was Rhona's warning call. Drew's head snapped toward the sound. Lights flickered in the distance, too many, too organized. Hunters. Not just Elena's crew, but a full strike team.
"You led them here," Drew snarled, grabbing her arm almost wounding her. The curse roared more than before, his vision tinting red, but her gaze held him steady. Something showing she didnt do this and she could help.
"I didn't," she said, her voice firm but urgent. "But they're coming. And they won't stop until you're all dead."
Drew's grip tightened, torn between trust and instinct. The Damned were his pack, his family, his responsibility. But this woman—this hunter—might be the key to their very survival in the city tonight. Or their doom.