The Council building looked the same as always—glass and steel reaching toward the sky like a middle finger to the rest of LA. But walking through those doors felt different now. Everything felt different.
I'd spent the drive back rehearsing my story. Rogue werewolf eliminated. Unknown assailant. Lost consciousness, woke up alone. Simple. Clean. The kind of report the Council expected from their best hunter.
But Future Aria's words kept echoing in my head. Don't trust anyone from the Council.
The security guard nodded as I badged in. Same guy as always, reading the same sports magazine. Nothing had changed in the three hours since I'd left. Except maybe everything.
The elevator to the fifteenth floor felt like it took forever. My thumb still ached from dislocating it. My wrists had rope burns from the zip ties. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that photograph—the woman with my face, smiling next to a man I'd never met.
Our real family.
The doors opened with a soft chime.
"Agent Seven." Marcus was waiting for me, tablet in hand, looking worried. "Vincent wants to see you immediately. Emergency assembly in Conference Room A."
"What kind of emergency?"
"The kind that has everyone freaking out." He fell into step beside me as we walked down the hallway. The carpet was thick enough to muffle our footsteps, but I could hear the tension in his voice. "Twelve hunters dead in the last seventy-two hours. All taken out by the same person."
My blood went cold. "Twelve?"
"Bodies started turning up yesterday morning. Professional kills, no witnesses, no evidence except the calling cards." Marcus pulled up images on his tablet. "Same signature every time."
He showed me a photo from a crime scene. A registered werewolf lay sprawled on concrete, three silver bullets center mass. Beside the body, someone had spray-painted a simple symbol: a crescent moon with an arrow through it.
Shadow's mark.
"Jesus," I whispered.
"It gets worse. The killer knows things. Personal things about each victim. Private details that aren't in any files." Marcus swiped to the next image. Another body, another moon symbol. "Someone with serious access to Council records."
We reached Conference Room A. The heavy oak doors were closed, but I could hear voices inside. Angry voices.
"You ready for this?" Marcus asked.
I twisted my grandmother's locket. Except it wasn't there. Future Aria still had it.
"Yeah," I lied. "I'm ready."
Marcus opened the doors.
The room was full of wolves. Not literally, but close enough. Fifteen Council members sat around a polished mahogany table, their faces grim. The air was thick with the scent of coffee, expensive cologne, and barely controlled panic.
Vincent Blackwood sat at the head of the table. Even from across the room, his presence was overwhelming. Tall, silver-haired, with the kind of authority that made grown men nervous. His blue eyes found mine the moment I walked in.
"Agent Seven," he said. His voice could cut glass. "Take a seat."
I sat in the only empty chair, directly across from him. Marcus stayed by the door, tablet ready.
"Gentlemen," Vincent said, not taking his eyes off me. "Agent Seven has just returned from the field. Perhaps she can shed some light on our situation."
Councilman Torres leaned forward. He was maybe sixty, with gray stubble and hands that shook from too much coffee. "Did you encounter the target known as Shadow?"
I kept my face blank. "Yes."
"And?"
"The target escaped." True enough. "I was unable to complete the elimination."
Murmurs around the table. Torres frowned. "You're telling us that Shadow got away from our best hunter?"
"That's what I'm telling you."
Vincent drummed his fingers on the table. Slow, deliberate taps that filled the silence. It was a habit I'd seen a thousand times, but now it felt different. Like a countdown.
"Describe the encounter," he said.
I told them the story I'd prepared. Tracking the rogue, eliminating the target, being ambushed by an unknown assailant. I left out the part about identical faces and time travel. Somehow I didn't think they'd buy it.
"Did you get a clear look at the assailant?" asked Councilwoman Nash. She was younger than the others, maybe forty-five, with sharp eyes and sharper suits.
"No. Face was covered."
"But you're certain it was Shadow?"
"The MO matches. Professional gear, knowledge of Council procedures, ability to neutralize trained operatives." I paused. "Whoever this is, they know how we operate."
Vincent's drumming stopped. "What makes you say that?"
"They knew I was coming. Set up the ambush in advance. Used non-lethal takedown methods—they wanted me alive, not dead." I looked around the table. "This isn't some rogue werewolf going crazy. This is someone with training. Someone with inside information."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Finally, Councilman Rodriguez spoke up. He was the oldest member, maybe seventy, with liver spots on his hands and a voice like gravel. "You're suggesting we have a traitor."
"I'm suggesting we have a problem."
Vincent leaned back in his chair. For a moment, his expression softened. Just for a second, but I caught it. The way he looked at me wasn't the way a commander looks at a soldier. It was something else. Something warmer.
Something that felt like...concern?
He loves you like a father loves a prize racehorse.
Future Aria's words hit me like a slap. I studied Vincent's face, looking for traces of the man in the photograph. The gentle eyes, the protective stance. But all I saw was the cold authority I'd known all my life.
"There's more," Vincent said, his voice bringing me back to the present. He pressed a button on the table, and the lights dimmed. A projection screen descended from the ceiling.
The first image made my stomach drop. A werewolf I recognized—David Park, a young hunter from the Seattle office. He was sprawled in an alley, three silver bullets in his chest. The crescent moon symbol was spray-painted on the brick wall behind him.
"David Park," Vincent said. "Eliminated Monday night."
The next image: Sarah Coleman from Denver. Same wounds, same symbol.
"Sarah Coleman. Tuesday morning."
He clicked through eleven more photos. Eleven more bodies. Eleven more crescent moons. Each one was a hunter I'd worked with, trained with, or met at Council gatherings. Good people. People with families.
"This isn't random," Vincent said. "Shadow is specifically targeting our hunters. Our best and brightest. The backbone of our organization."
Torres wiped sweat from his forehead. "What do they want?"
"Unknown. But the pattern suggests they're trying to cripple our operational capacity." Vincent's eyes found mine again. "Which is why we're taking immediate action."
He clicked to the next slide. A map of Los Angeles, marked with red dots.
"Effective immediately, we're implementing Protocol Seven. Total lockdown of all Council facilities. Round-the-clock security for all senior staff. And a joint task force to eliminate the Shadow threat."
Nash leaned forward. "Who's leading the task force?"
Vincent's gaze never left my face. "Agent Seven will head the operation. Full resources, unlimited budget, carte blanche to pursue any leads."
The room erupted in surprised murmurs. I felt the weight of fifteen pairs of eyes on me.
"Sir," Torres said, "with all due respect, Agent Seven just failed to neutralize the target."
"Agent Seven is the only operative who's faced Shadow and survived," Vincent replied. "That makes her our most valuable asset."
Rodriguez cleared his throat. "What about the bounty?"
Vincent smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "One million dollars. Dead or alive. Payable upon confirmation of Shadow's elimination."
One million dollars.
The number hung in the air like smoke. Around the table, I could see the Council members processing it. That was serious money. Life-changing money. The kind of bounty that would bring every hunter in North America to LA.
"Questions?" Vincent asked.
Nash raised her hand. "Rules of engagement?"
"Whatever it takes. Shadow has declared war on the Council. We respond in kind."
"Collateral damage?"
"Minimize it, but don't let it stop you. Our priority is elimination of the target."
Torres looked nervous. "What about the human authorities?"
"Leave them to me," Vincent said. His voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "Your job is to give Agent Seven everything she needs to complete this mission."
I found my voice. "What aren't you telling me?"
The question came out sharper than I intended. The room went quiet.
Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"Twelve hunters dead. A million-dollar bounty. Protocol Seven. This feels like more than just a rogue operative." I met his stare. "What makes Shadow so dangerous that you're willing to shut down half our operations?"
For a moment, something flickered behind Vincent's eyes. Fear? Guilt? I couldn't tell.
"Shadow represents an existential threat to everything we've built," he said finally. "The Council has maintained order between our species for over a century. If we appear weak, if we can't protect our own people, that order collapses."
"And then what happens?"
"Chaos. War. The end of both species."
He said it so matter-of-factly, like he was discussing the weather. But I caught the way his hands gripped the edge of the table. The slight tension in his shoulders.
Vincent Blackwood was scared.
"Any other questions?" he asked.
The room stayed quiet.
"Good. Agent Seven, you'll have preliminary files within the hour. I want daily reports, and I want results." He stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. "The Blood Moon is thirty-seven days away. I want this threat eliminated before then."
My blood turned to ice. "The Blood Moon?"
Vincent paused. "The ritual is scheduled for the next lunar event. We can't have this distraction compromising the ceremony."
The ritual is in thirty-seven days. If it happens, both species die.
Future Aria's warning echoed in my mind. Vincent was talking about the Blood Moon ritual like it was routine. Like it was something they did every month.
"What ritual?" I asked.
The silence that followed was deafening. I could feel the tension in the room ratchet up another notch.
Vincent's expression didn't change, but something cold flickered in his eyes. "The details are classified above your clearance level. Your concern is Shadow. Nothing else."
"But if it affects the mission—"
"It doesn't." His voice cut through the air like a blade. "Focus on your target, Agent Seven. That's an order."
The message was clear. Don't ask questions you don't want answered.
The Council members began filing out, whispering among themselves. Vincent gathered his papers, but his movements were slow, deliberate. Like he was waiting for something.
When the room was empty except for the two of us, he looked up.
"Aria."
It was the first time he'd used my real name in years. The sound of it stopped me cold.
"Be careful out there," he said. "Shadow isn't just another rogue. They're smart, well-trained, and they seem to know things about us that they shouldn't." He paused. "They might even know things about you."
"What do you mean?"
"Just..." He rubbed his temples, suddenly looking older than his fifty-two years. "Trust your instincts. And remember that not everything is as it seems."
He walked toward the door, then stopped.
"Your grandmother's locket," he said without turning around. "You're not wearing it."
My hand went automatically to my throat. "I lost it."
"That locket has been in your family for generations. Your mother wore it. Her mother before her." His voice was soft, almost sad. "I hope you find it."
He left me alone in the conference room, surrounded by the ghosts of his words.
Your mother wore it.
But according to my file, my parents died when I was ten. Vincent had taken me in, raised me, trained me. He'd never mentioned my mother's jewelry before.
Unless Future Aria was right. Unless the woman in the photograph really was my mother. Unless Vincent had been lying to me my entire life.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled to Marcus's number. He answered on the first ring.
"Hey. How did it go?"
"I need everything we have on the Blood Moon ritual," I said.
"Aria, you know that's—"
"I'm heading the task force. Vincent said full resources, unlimited access."
A pause. "I'll see what I can find."
"And Marcus? Dig deep. I have a feeling there's more to this than anyone's telling me."
"Understood. Anything else?"
I looked around the empty conference room. Mahogany table, leather chairs, oil paintings of long-dead Council leaders. The trappings of power, tradition, order. Everything I'd been taught to respect and protect.
"Yeah," I said. "Find out everything you can about my parents. Real parents, not the official story."
"Aria—"
"Just do it, Marcus. Please."
I hung up and walked to the window. Los Angeles stretched out below me, thirty stories down. Millions of people going about their lives, completely unaware that monsters walked among them. Unaware that in thirty-seven days, their world might end.
Future Aria had shown me the ruins. The mass graves. The blood-red sky.
But Vincent was talking about the Blood Moon ritual like it was necessary. Like it was the only thing standing between order and chaos.
Someone was lying to me. The question was who.
And with a million-dollar bounty on Shadow's head, I was about to find out if I was hunting my salvation or my destruction.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: "The hunters are coming. Stay alive. —F.A."
I stared at the message until the screen went dark, then slipped the phone back into my pocket.
Thirty-seven days.
Time to choose sides.
End of Chapter 3