The smell hit me the moment I stepped out of the car. Blood, gunpowder, and that metallic scent that comes with violent death. Even after eight years, it never got easier.
"Latest victim is Thomas Reid," Marcus said, closing his tablet and falling into step beside me. "Twenty-eight, Council hunter from the Phoenix office. Found him three hours ago."
We were in an industrial area of Vernon, south of downtown LA. Warehouses and auto shops stretched in every direction, broken up by empty lots and chain-link fences. The kind of neighborhood where screams wouldn't carry and nobody asked questions.
"Same MO?" I asked.
"Three silver bullets, center mass. Crescent moon symbol spray-painted nearby." Marcus pulled out his camera gear. "But there's something different about this one."
The body lay behind a mechanics' shop, next to a dumpster overflowing with used oil filters and rusted car parts. Thomas Reid had been a big guy—maybe six-foot-two, built like he spent serious time in the gym. None of that had helped him.
I crouched beside the body, pulling on latex gloves. The bullets had done their work efficiently. Clean entry wounds, no signs of a struggle. Professional.
"He knew his killer," I said.
Marcus looked up from adjusting his camera settings. "How can you tell?"
"Look at his hands. No defensive wounds. Gun's still in his holster." I gestured to the victim's relaxed posture. "Someone he trusted got close enough for an execution."
"Or someone fast enough that he never saw it coming."
I studied the spray-painted symbol on the brick wall. Same design as the others—a crescent moon with an arrow through it. But something about this one felt different. More personal.
"Take photos of everything," I said. "Wide shots first, then close-ups."
Marcus nodded and started shooting. He moved with practiced efficiency, documenting the scene from every angle. I'd worked with a lot of tech specialists over the years, but Marcus was different. Better. He saw details that others missed.
Which made me wonder what else he might be seeing.
I walked a grid pattern around the body, looking for anything the local PD might have missed. A button, a footprint, a piece of fabric caught on the chain-link fence. Anything that might tell me who Shadow really was.
"Aria." Marcus's voice was tight. "You need to see this."
He was kneeling beside a stack of wooden pallets, camera in hand. When I got closer, I could see what had caught his attention.
Carved into the wood, barely visible unless you were looking for it, was a symbol. Not spray-painted like the others—this one was etched deep into the grain with something sharp. It looked ancient. Ritual.
"You ever seen anything like this before?" I asked.
Marcus's face had gone pale. He stared at the symbol for a long moment before answering. "It's...familiar. But I can't place where I've seen it."
The way he said it made my skin crawl. Too casual. Too practiced.
Don't trust anyone from the Council.
I took photos of the symbol with my phone, making sure to capture every detail. Whatever it meant, it was important enough for Shadow to carve it into wood. Important enough to leave at a crime scene.
"Let's check the victim's pockets," I said.
Marcus hesitated. "Shouldn't we wait for the coroner?"
"The coroner works for the city. We work for the Council." I pulled out Thomas Reid's wallet. "Vincent wants answers, not bureaucracy."
His driver's license looked normal enough. Phoenix address, boring photo, donor sticker. But tucked behind his credit cards was something interesting—a small piece of paper, folded several times.
I unfolded it carefully. It was covered in handwritten notes, most of them illegible. But at the top, in block letters, were two words: BLOOD MOON.
"Marcus." I held up the paper. "What do you know about the Blood Moon ritual?"
He went very still. "Not much. Why?"
"Because our victims keep mentioning it." I showed him the note. "Thomas Reid was investigating something called the Blood Moon. Just like the others."
Marcus took the paper, his hands not quite steady. He read it twice before looking back at me.
"Most of this is illegible," he said. "Could be anything."
"But you recognize some of it."
"Maybe. Hard to tell with the handwriting." He folded the note and handed it back. "We should get this to the lab for analysis."
I watched his face carefully. Marcus had always been good at reading people's handwriting. Hell, he'd deciphered grocery lists that looked like chicken scratches. But now he was claiming he couldn't read notes about the Blood Moon?
"Why don't you tell me what you do know about this ritual?" I asked.
"Honestly? Not much. It's old Council business. Above my clearance level."
Above his clearance level. The same phrase Vincent had used yesterday.
I pocketed the note and walked back to the body. Thomas Reid's eyes were still open, staring at the gray LA sky. He'd died for asking questions about the Blood Moon. Just like eleven other hunters.
"Whoever Shadow is, they're not randomly picking targets," I said. "They're eliminating anyone who gets too close to learning about this ritual."
Marcus finished photographing the carved symbol and stood up. "So what's our next move?"
"We find out what the Blood Moon ritual really is. And we figure out why someone's willing to kill to protect it."
"Vincent said the details were classified."
"Vincent says a lot of things." I met Marcus's eyes. "Doesn't mean they're all true."
Something flickered across his face. Fear? Guilt? It was gone too fast to be sure.
"Aria, maybe we should focus on tracking Shadow instead of—"
"Instead of what? Doing our job?" I stepped closer to him. Close enough to see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Close enough to smell his cologne—something woody and expensive. "Twelve hunters are dead, Marcus. All of them were investigating the same thing. That's not a coincidence."
"I know, but—"
"But what?"
He was quiet for a long moment, just looking at me. We were standing maybe two feet apart now, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. Close enough to see the way his pulse jumped in his throat.
"I'm worried about you," he said finally. "This case, Shadow, Vincent's expectations—it's a lot of pressure."
"I can handle pressure."
"I know you can. That's not what worries me."
"Then what does?"
Another pause. Longer this time. Marcus ran his hand through his hair, messing up the careful style. It was a nervous habit I'd noticed over the years, but now it felt different. More intimate.
"You're different since yesterday," he said. "Something happened during that encounter with Shadow. Something you're not telling me."
My heart skipped a beat. "What makes you say that?"
"You keep looking at me like you're trying to figure something out. Like you don't trust me."
The honesty in his voice caught me off guard. For a moment, I wanted to tell him everything. About Future Aria, about the photographs, about the nagging feeling that everyone I knew was lying to me.
But Future Aria's warning echoed in my mind. Don't trust anyone from the Council. Not even Marcus.
"I trust you," I said.
"Do you?"
We were standing even closer now. I could see the stubble on his jaw, the way his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders. Marcus had always been good-looking, but I'd never let myself really notice before. Professional boundaries and all that.
But right now, surrounded by death and deception, those boundaries felt less important.
"Marcus..." I started to say.
His phone rang.
The moment shattered like glass. Marcus stepped back, pulling out his phone with an apologetic look.
"This is Chen." His voice was all business now. "Yeah, I'm at the Reid scene with Agent Seven." A pause. "Understood. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
He hung up and looked at me. "That was Vincent. He wants to see us immediately."
"About what?"
"They found another body."
The drive back to Council headquarters was quiet. Marcus focused on the road while I stared out the window, thinking about the symbol carved into the wood. About Thomas Reid's note. About the way Marcus's hands had shaken when he'd read it.
About the moment between us that his phone call had interrupted.
"Aria," Marcus said as we pulled into the parking garage. "Whatever's going on, whatever you're not telling me—I'm on your side. You know that, right?"
I looked at him. Really looked. The concerned expression, the way he leaned toward me, the genuine worry in his eyes. Either Marcus Chen was the best actor I'd ever met, or he really cared about me.
The question was which one.
"I know," I said.
But as we walked toward the elevator, I kept my hand near my gun.
Vincent was waiting for us in his office. The space was all dark wood and leather, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city. Oil paintings of former Council leaders hung on the walls, their painted eyes following us as we sat down.
"Another hunter is dead," Vincent said without preamble. "Jennifer Walsh from the Denver office. Found her an hour ago."
He slid a tablet across his desk. The crime scene photos were all too familiar. Three silver bullets, crescent moon symbol, professional execution.
"Same killer?" I asked.
"Same everything. But this time, Shadow made a mistake."
Vincent pressed a button on his desk, and a wall-mounted screen came to life. Security camera footage, black and white, timestamp showing this morning at 6:47 AM.
The image showed an alley behind a coffee shop. Jennifer Walsh walked into frame, talking on her phone. She looked relaxed, unaware of the danger.
Then Shadow stepped out of the shadows.
The figure was wearing all black, face hidden behind a tactical mask. But the movement was familiar. The way they held their shoulders, the purposeful stride.
I'd seen this person before. Recently.
"Keep watching," Vincent said.
On screen, Shadow approached Jennifer Walsh from behind. A brief conversation—too far away to hear the words. Then Jennifer turned around, and I could see her face clearly for the first time.
She looked surprised. Not scared—surprised. Like she recognized her killer.
Three quick shots. Jennifer fell. Shadow knelt beside the body, checking for a pulse with an almost gentle touch. Then they stood and looked directly at the camera.
For just a moment, a trick of the light made it look like they were looking at me.
"Did you get a clear shot of the face?" I asked.
"No. But we got something better." Vincent clicked to the next image. "Shadow dropped this while leaving the scene."
It was a silver locket. Tarnished with age, hanging from a thin chain. The design on the front was intricate—a wolf's head surrounded by Celtic knots.
My grandmother's locket.
The one Future Aria had taken from me.
"Mean anything to you?" Vincent asked.
I kept my face blank, but inside, my world was spinning. Shadow was definitely Future Aria. Which meant the woman who'd shown me images of the apocalypse was now murdering innocent hunters.
Unless they weren't as innocent as they appeared.
"Never seen it before," I lied.
"We're having it analyzed for prints, DNA, anything that might give us a lead." Vincent leaned back in his chair. "But I have a feeling our killer wanted us to find it."
"Why would they do that?"
"Maybe they're sending a message. Or maybe they're getting careless." His blue eyes fixed on mine. "Either way, it's our first real break in the case."
Marcus shifted in his chair beside me. "Sir, we found something at the Reid scene. A carved symbol."
"Show me."
Marcus pulled out his camera and scrolled to the photos of the wooden pallet. Vincent studied the images for a long moment, his face unreadable.
"Interesting," he said finally. "Anything else?"
"The victim had notes about the Blood Moon ritual," I said. "Just like the others."
Vincent's expression went cold. "What kind of notes?"
"Illegible mostly. But Thomas Reid was definitely investigating the ritual before he died."
"I see." Vincent drummed his fingers on his desk. The sound echoed in the quiet office. "And what conclusions have you drawn from this?"
"That Shadow is targeting anyone who learns about the Blood Moon. Which means the ritual is connected to these murders."
"Or it means Shadow wants us to think there's a connection."
I leaned forward. "Sir, with respect, thirteen hunters are dead. All of them were investigating the same thing. That's not a coincidence."
"No," Vincent agreed. "It's not."
He stood and walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back. For a moment, he looked older than his fifty-two years.
"The Blood Moon ritual is scheduled for thirty-six days from now," he said without turning around. "It's a ceremony that's been performed for over three hundred years. A way of strengthening the bonds between our kind."
"What kind of strengthening?"
"Enhanced abilities. Longer life. Greater unity among the packs." He turned to face us. "It's what separates us from the rogues, Aria. Discipline. Order. Tradition."
I thought about Future Aria's apocalyptic videos. The ruined city, the mass graves, Marcus's execution.
"What if the ritual goes wrong?" I asked.
"It won't."
"But what if it does?"
Vincent's eyes narrowed. "Why would you ask that?"
Because I've seen the future. Because another version of myself showed me what happens when the ritual succeeds. Because everything you've told me might be a lie.
"Just covering all the bases," I said.
Vincent studied my face for a long moment. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I could feel him searching for something. Some sign of deception or doubt.
"The ritual will proceed as planned," he said finally. "Your job is to eliminate Shadow before then. Nothing else matters."
"Understood."
"Good." He sat back down and pulled up something on his computer. "You have thirty-six days. Use them wisely."
As we left his office, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were running out of time. Not just to catch Shadow, but to figure out what the Blood Moon ritual really was before it was too late.
In the elevator, Marcus was quiet. Too quiet.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
"About that symbol. The one carved in the wood." He ran his hand through his hair again. "I keep feeling like I should know what it means."
"Where might you have seen it?"
"I don't know. Old books, maybe? Council archives?" He looked at me. "You mind if I do some research tonight? Might help with the case."
"Of course."
But as the elevator descended, I wondered what Marcus was really planning to research.
And whether I should follow him to find out.
My phone buzzed as we reached the parking garage. A text from an unknown number: "The locket was bait. They're watching you now. Trust no one. —F.A."
I stared at the message until the screen went dark.
Future Aria had dropped my grandmother's locket on purpose. She wanted the Council to find it. But why?
Unless she was trying to send me a message. The locket had been in my family for generations. My mother had worn it. Her mother before her.
Maybe it wasn't just jewelry. Maybe it was something more.
Something worth killing for.
"You okay?" Marcus asked.
I looked at him standing there in the dim light of the parking garage. Concerned, handsome, loyal Marcus. The man I'd been working with for years. The man I was maybe falling for.
The man Future Aria had warned me not to trust.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."
But as we walked to our cars, I kept my hand near my gun.
Thirty-six days to the Blood Moon.
Time to start asking the right questions.
End of Chapter 4