The silver bullet tore through the rogue werewolf's skull like it was made of paper.
Blood splattered across my face in a warm, metallic spray. I didn't flinch. After nine years of this job, I'd learned to keep my eyes open during the kill shot. You never knew when these monsters would try one last desperate attack.
The massive gray wolf collapsed onto the concrete floor of the abandoned warehouse. His body convulsed once, twice, then went still. Steam rose from the spreading pool of blood around his head. The transformation back to human form had already started - his snout was shrinking, claws retracting. In a few minutes, he'd look like any other dead man.
Except for the three torn-apart prostitutes scattered around the warehouse like broken dolls.
I lowered my custom Glock and checked my watch. Eleven forty-three PM. The whole hunt had taken less than twenty minutes. Not bad for a Tuesday night.
"Clean up crew will be here in ten," I said into my phone's microphone. "Standard package. Three civilians, one rogue. Send the usual donation to the families."
"Copy that, Scarlett." The voice on the other end was crisp and professional. "Transport is waiting outside for extraction."
I holstered my weapon and stepped over the dead werewolf. Marcus Chen, according to his wallet. Forty-two years old, married, two kids. His driver's license photo showed a normal-looking accountant with kind eyes and a gentle smile. You'd never guess he turned into a killing machine three nights a month.
That was the thing about werewolves. The good ones learned to control themselves. They locked themselves up during full moons, built support systems, took medications that dulled their instincts. The bad ones? Well, the bad ones ended up like Marcus here.
And that's where I came in.
I grabbed my gear bag and headed for the exit. The cleanup crew would handle the bodies and the blood. By morning, this place would look like nothing ever happened. The families of those poor women would get an anonymous cash payment and a story about their loved ones dying in a car accident. It wasn't much, but it was better than knowing the truth.
The black SUV was waiting in the alley exactly where it was supposed to be. I climbed into the passenger seat and nodded to the driver. Jake Morrison - my backup for the past three years. He was one of the few hunters who could keep up with me, which meant he was also one of the few I trusted to watch my back.
"Quick work," Jake said as he pulled out of the alley. "Damien's going to be impressed."
I shrugged and started cleaning my weapon. "It was a basic hunt. Nothing special about it."
"Still. Three weeks since your last kill. I was starting to think you were getting soft."
I shot him a look that could have frozen hell over. "Have I ever gotten soft, Jake?"
He raised his hands in surrender. "Just saying. Some of the younger hunters are starting to talk. They think maybe the great Scarlett Hunter is losing her edge."
"Let them talk." I finished cleaning the Glock and slipped it back into its holster. "Actions speak louder than words."
The truth was, I hadn't been losing my edge. I'd been losing my motivation. Nine years of hunting rogue werewolves, and what did I have to show for it? A kill count in the triple digits and an empty apartment in downtown LA. No friends except for other hunters. No family except for the organization that trained me. No life outside of blood and bullets.
But that was the price of vengeance. And I wasn't done collecting yet.
My phone buzzed with a text message. "Priority One meeting. Come to headquarters immediately. - D"
I showed the message to Jake. His eyebrows shot up.
"Priority One? When's the last time Damien called a Priority One?"
"Never," I said quietly. In all my years with the organization, I'd never seen Damien use the emergency code. Whatever this was about, it was big.
Jake hit the gas and we raced through the empty streets of LA. The headquarters building looked like any other office complex from the outside. Twelve stories of glass and steel in the financial district. But the top three floors belonged to us. The Hunter Organization - the world's most elite supernatural assassination service.
We took the express elevator to the thirty-fourth floor. The doors opened to reveal a sleek reception area that could have belonged to any high-end law firm. Except for the weapons display cases lining the walls and the faint smell of gunpowder in the air.
"Scarlett." The receptionist looked up from her computer screen. "He's waiting for you in Conference Room A. And Scarlett? He seems... intense tonight."
Great. Intense Damien was never a good thing.
I made my way down the hall to the conference room. The door was solid mahogany with no windows. I knocked twice and waited.
"Come in."
Dr. Damien Cross was standing with his back to the door, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the city lights below. Even at midnight, he was dressed in a perfectly pressed suit. His blond hair was styled like he'd just stepped out of a magazine shoot. He looked more like a fashion model than the deadliest hunter trainer in the world.
But I knew better. I'd seen what those manicured hands could do with a knife.
"Sit down, Scarlett."
I took the chair across from his usual spot at the head of the conference table. The room was empty except for us. No other hunters, no support staff. Just me and the man who'd saved my life and turned me into a weapon.
Damien finally turned around. His blue eyes were cold as winter ice, but there was something else there too. Excitement? Anticipation? It was hard to tell with him.
"Excellent work tonight," he said, taking his seat. "Marcus Chen was starting to attract police attention. Three bodies in two weeks - that's sloppy even for a rogue."
"He was an amateur. No real training, no pack support. Easy target."
"Which is exactly why I chose him for your warm-up."
I frowned. "Warm-up?"
Damien reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick manila folder. He slid it across the table to me. "Your real assignment."
I opened the folder and felt my breath catch in my throat. The first page was a photograph of the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. Black hair, silver eyes, and a face that belonged on movie screens. He was wearing an expensive suit and smiling at something outside the camera frame.
But it wasn't his looks that made my heart skip a beat. It was the name printed at the bottom of the photo.
Alexander Kane.
Everyone in the supernatural world knew that name. Alexander Kane was the most powerful Alpha werewolf on the West Coast. He controlled everything from Seattle to San Diego - territory, businesses, politics. His company, Kane Enterprises, was worth billions. He was untouchable.
And apparently, he was my next target.
"You want me to hunt Alexander Kane?" I looked up at Damien. "Are you insane?"
"I want you to capture Alexander Kane. Alive."
The word 'alive' hit me like a punch to the gut. In nine years of hunting, I'd never been asked to bring back a target alive. Dead werewolves were safe werewolves. Living ones were dangerous, unpredictable, and way more trouble than they were worth.
"Why alive?"
Damien leaned back in his chair and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "Because dead werewolves can't give us their genetic material."
I felt cold suddenly. "Genetic material?"
"Alexander Kane isn't just any Alpha, Scarlett. He's the purest bloodline we've seen in over a century. His family line goes back to the original werewolf clans of northern Europe. His genetic code is practically prehistoric."
"And you want to steal it."
"I want to study it. There are... applications for that kind of genetic purity. Medical applications. Military applications."
I stared at the photograph again. Alexander Kane's silver eyes seemed to be looking right at me. There was something in his expression - a sadness that didn't match his confident smile. Like he was carrying a weight that no one else could see.
"This is different from our usual jobs," I said carefully.
"Yes, it is. That's why I'm giving it to my best hunter."
"What makes you think I can get close to him? Alexander Kane doesn't exactly hang out in dark alleys waiting to be captured."
Damien slid another document across the table. "Kane Enterprises is hiring a new head of corporate security. You're going to apply for the job."
I looked at the job posting. The salary was ridiculous - more money than I made in a year of hunting. But the requirements were even more ridiculous. Military background, advanced combat training, experience with "high-risk executive protection."
"I'm qualified for this?"
"You're overqualified. Alexander Kane has been through six security chiefs in the past two years. He keeps firing them for being incompetent. What he needs is someone who can actually protect him from the kind of threats he faces."
"What kind of threats?"
"The kind that come with being the most powerful supernatural creature in California. Rival packs, government agencies, hunters like us. Alexander Kane has a lot of enemies, Scarlett. He needs someone who can keep him alive."
"So I'm supposed to protect him while planning to capture him?"
"Exactly. Get close to him. Learn his routines, his weaknesses, his security protocols. When the time is right, you'll have the perfect opportunity to take him."
I closed the folder and looked at Damien. "How long do I have?"
"As long as it takes. This isn't a rush job. Alexander Kane is too valuable to risk losing because we moved too fast."
"And too dangerous to underestimate."
"Precisely." Damien stood up and walked around the table to stand behind my chair. His hand landed on my shoulder - light, but I could feel the strength in his fingers. "I know this is a big assignment, Scarlett. Bigger than anything you've done before. But you're ready for it."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I trained you myself. And because you have something the others don't."
"What's that?"
Damien's hand tightened slightly on my shoulder. "You understand loss. You understand what it means to lose everything and still keep fighting. Alexander Kane will respect that. He'll trust you because he recognizes something of himself in you."
I thought about that. Nine years ago, I'd been a sixteen-year-old girl who watched her entire family get slaughtered by a rogue werewolf pack. Damien had found me in the ruins of my childhood home, covered in blood and half-dead from shock. He'd saved my life, trained me, given me purpose.
Everything I was, I owed to him.
"When do I start?"
"Tomorrow. Your interview is at ten AM. Don't worry about preparation - I've already arranged for you to get the job. Alexander Kane doesn't know it yet, but he's about to hire the best security chief he's ever had."
I stood up and tucked the folder under my arm. "Is there anything else I should know?"
Damien was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. "Be careful, Scarlett. Alexander Kane isn't like the rogues you're used to hunting. He's smart, he's powerful, and he's survived this long for a reason. Don't let your guard down, not even for a second."
"I won't."
"And remember - the mission comes first. Always."
There was something in his tone that made me look at him more closely. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"There's always something I'm not telling you. That's what keeps you alive." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Go home. Get some rest. Tomorrow, you start the most important hunt of your career."
I nodded and headed for the door. As I reached for the handle, Damien's voice stopped me.
"Scarlett?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't disappoint me."
I met his gaze. "I never have before."
"No. You haven't."
I left the conference room and took the elevator down to the parking garage. Jake was waiting by his SUV, smoking a cigarette.
"So? What was the big emergency?"
I thought about Damien's warning to be careful. About the mission coming first. About the job that was more important than anything I'd ever done before.
"New assignment," I said. "Big one."
"How big?"
I looked at the manila folder in my hands. Alexander Kane's silver eyes stared back at me from the photograph. There was something about his face that made my chest feel tight. Something that made me want to protect him instead of hunt him.
Which was exactly the kind of thinking that got hunters killed.
"Big enough to change everything," I said finally.
Jake dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his heel. "Need backup?"
"Not this time. This one's a solo job."
"Be careful, Scarlett. Solo jobs are how good hunters end up dead."
I climbed into my own car - a black Mustang with a modified engine and bulletproof glass. "Good thing I'm not just a good hunter."
"What are you then?"
I started the engine and smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "I'm the best hunter alive."
As I drove home through the empty streets of LA, I couldn't stop thinking about Alexander Kane's photograph. There was something about his eyes that bothered me. Something familiar.
But that was impossible. I'd never met Alexander Kane. I'd never even seen him in person.
So why did looking at his picture feel like looking into a mirror?
End of Chapter 1