The city at night was a different kind of battlefield. In the countryside, you could smell hunters before you saw them—gun oil, sweat, the stink of righteousness. But here? Here they blended in with the late-shift commuters, the cigarette breaks outside corner stores, the cabbies cursing traffic at three in the morning.
That was the danger. Hunters with anonymity.
I had finished my shift, hands still smelling faintly of fries and burnt coffee, when I caught it—the sound of footsteps pacing mine. Too steady, too patient, too deliberate. I didn't look back immediately; prey looked back. I kept walking, letting the rhythm of the city swallow me.
But the further I went, the clearer it became. Three sets of steps. Two behind, one across the street. Hunters loved their nets.
"Silver, meet New York hospitality," I muttered under my breath, flexing my fingers in my jacket pocket around the knife's hilt.
I turned a corner, leading them toward the quieter side streets. If they wanted me, I'd make them work for it.
That's when the first bolt zipped past my head and slammed into a brick wall. Not a regular arrow—a hunter's bolt, tipped with something that made the air sting. I ducked, rolled behind a dumpster, and cursed.
"Great. They came prepared. Fan club's getting organized."
The footsteps closed in.
One hunter's voice echoed, low and smug. "Silver. You've been very hard to track."
I smirked, calling back, "Sorry, I don't sign autographs."
Another bolt sliced past. They were herding me. Testing my reflexes. I gritted my teeth, eyes darting for exits. The alley opened into a narrow lot behind an abandoned laundromat—no good cover, but at least more room to move.
I bolted, knife in hand, and the hunters followed. Two men, one woman, all dressed in dark urban gear that let them blend into the city. Their weapons gleamed faintly under the streetlight: crossbows, stakes, blades. Classic.
One lunged, aiming to pin me. I ducked low, slicing his thigh, and he shouted in pain. His blood smelled sour, tainted with the chemicals hunters always bathed in to mask their scent. I pushed past him, but the other two closed in fast.
The woman raised her crossbow. My eyes caught the faint shimmer on the bolt's tip—silver dust, maybe something worse. It would burn like hell if it grazed me.
I dodged just as she fired, the bolt whistling past my cheek close enough to sting.
"Persistent, aren't you?" I spat, circling. "You do this to every girl you meet, or am I special?"
Her lips curled. "You're special. You're the last one we'll need."
Something in her tone twisted in my gut. Last one? What the hell did that mean?
Before I could ask, movement flickered at the edge of my vision. A dark shape slinking into the lot.
The wolf.
It stepped from the shadows with eerie silence, fur bristling, eyes catching the dim light. My breath hitched. For a second, the hunters froze too, startled.
"Jesus," one muttered. "Where the hell did that come from?"
The woman snarled. "It's just an animal. Focus!"
But the wolf wasn't just an animal. It moved like liquid shadow, slipping behind the wounded hunter. He turned too late—the wolf lunged, its jaws snapping down on his arm with a sickening crunch. He screamed, dropping his weapon.
Chaos erupted.
The second hunter swung his blade at the wolf, but the animal twisted away with unnatural grace, teeth flashing as it tore into his leg. The woman raised her crossbow again, aiming at the wolf now, distracted.
My chance.
I darted forward, slamming into her and knocking the crossbow aside. We grappled, the weapon clattering to the ground. She fought dirty, knife flashing in her free hand. I caught her wrist, twisted hard, and the blade dropped with a clang.
Her eyes burned into mine. "You're all going to burn, monster."
I didn't bother replying. I slammed her head against the wall hard enough to drop her, then spun back toward the chaos.
The wolf had the second hunter pinned, its jaws dripping red. The wounded man tried to crawl away, babbling, but the wolf's snarl froze him in place. The sound wasn't just animal—it was something deeper, something that rattled in my bones.
For a moment, I almost forgot myself, transfixed by the sheer presence of it. Powerful. Terrifying. Controlled.
Then its eyes flicked to me.
My chest tightened. That look—sharp, knowing—wasn't the gaze of a wild beast. It was more. It was other.
The wolf stepped back from the mangled hunter, leaving him gasping in the dirt. It didn't chase, didn't kill the rest. Just turned, melted into the shadows the way it had before, gone as quickly as it came.
I stood frozen, knife still in hand, breath ragged.
The alley was quiet now except for the groans of the injured hunters.
I could finish them. End the threat now. But something in me hesitated, Travis's voice echoing faintly in my head—"Killing them won't make you safe. It'll just make you harder to live with."
Cursing, I backed away, disappearing into the labyrinth of city streets.
By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were still trembling. Not from the hunters. From the wolf.
It had saved me. Again.
And I had no idea why.