The city was a wash of neon and rain, the latter coming down in relentless sheets, turning my bones to ice as I pounded the pavement. Not far ahead, the perp zigzagged through the streets, but he wasn’t shaking me—not tonight. My breath puffed out in steely clouds as I matched his every turn, my determination as unyielding as the downpour. I was gaining ground, legs pumping, lungs heaving. Ahead of me, he turned another corner. Stupid mistake. I knew this city like the back of my hand, and my friend ahead had just turned into a dead-end alley. Seconds later, I swung into the alley behind him, skidding to a halt when greeted by his growl.
He was trapped, his back to the wall, and the displeasure was evident in the snarl that twisted his features. His lips pulled back, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. A werewolf, without a doubt. He gestured with a jerk of his head, a silent dare.
“Ready to go a few rounds, loser?” he challenged.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “That’s your line?”
“That’s the line.”
I stood relaxed but alert, one hand nonchalantly resting on the grip of my pyre gun. With a flick of my wrist, my trench coat billowed slightly, intentionally showcasing the SIA badge clipped to my belt. His sneer deepened—he clearly wasn’t intimidated.
“You? With the SIA?” He practically snorted the words. “You’re no more paranormal than the man on the moon.” His nose twitched as he sniffed, his senses searching for something in my scent that might betray fear or falsehood. He wouldn’t find either.
I shrugged, unfazed. “Look, I’m not here for small talk. It’s raining cats and dogs, I’m drenched, and I’ve got a warm shower and a hot coffee with my name on it. So, let’s wrap this up, shall we?” I didn’t wait for his reply; his next move spoke volumes.
He lunged in a blur of fury and fangs. But I was quicker—my reflexes honed by more than just training. “Stop right there!” The words were a mere formality. My power surged forth, slamming into him with the force of an unseen wall. He was frozen, quite literally, caught between forms. His leap had begun with a transformation—man to beast—but my intervention had him hanging in limbo, part human, part wolf, utterly immobile.
Fingers dancing along my belt, I found my cuffs, swinging them with a flourish that matched the smirk on my lips. “Tough luck, buddy,” I quipped, snapping the metal around his half-transformed wrists with a satisfying click. Reciting his rights in a matter-of-fact tone, I was smugly triumphant we had another rogue off the streets. A slight press against my wrist and the comms unit buzzed to life. “Package wrapped. Alley off Main and Magnolia.”
“Copy that, en route,” Carter’s voice, ever calm, crackled back.
Another stray raindrop dared to slip down my neck, an unwelcome shiver against my skin. With a grunt, I yanked up my collar, a futile barrier against the night’s damp assault.
Headlights sliced through the drizzle as our SUV rolled up, the rhythmic thump of wipers keeping time with my pounding heart. Carter hopped out, his stride purposeful as he approached us. He secured the collar around the werewolf’s neck with practiced ease and retreated. Withdrawing my power, I watched as our perp collapsed to the ground, the groan he emitted mingling with the hum of the idling engine.
“See, sugar, all that could have been avoided if you’d just stopped when I asked you to,” I told him sweetly, patting him on the head. With the silver cuffs and collar, his transformation had receded, and he was back to his human form. Changing from man to wolf was painful: bones broke, organs rearranged themselves. To be frozen mid-change just prolonged the agony because when you were on the receiving end of my “gift,” you could feel and hear everything. You could still breathe and sometimes speak; you simply couldn’t move. “Not supernatural?” I quirked a brow. “Guess again.”
Carter hauled the wolf-man toward the SUV, his arm a vise around the perp’s shoulders. As he wrestled him into the back, the reinforced silver bars of the custom cage gleamed a warning in the dim light—no ordinary slammer, this one. My gaze flicked over the setup, a silent salute to the SIA’s ingenuity. Funny how it took the top brass twelve years and a parade of red tape to realize their handcuffs were paper thin against the supernaturals. Humans had been playing catch-up ever since we blew our cover, a quarter-century revelation that had them reeling. Now, as the door clanged shut, sealing him away, there was a grim satisfaction in knowing we were the ones keeping the balance—not them.
Water from my coat pooled on the passenger seat as I settled in, the storm outside punctuating the moment with a clap of thunder. The heater’s hum was a welcome sound, and I stretched my fingers toward its promise of warmth.
“Nice work back there,” Carter remarked, a lopsided grin on his face as he navigated us out of the alley.
“Thanks. You weren’t too bad yourself,” I replied, acknowledging his earlier success with a nod.
He had been busy, too, rounding up the rest of the wolf pack while I was engaged in my own dance. Back-up had already carted them off to HQ.
Carter’s features tightened as he spoke. “It’s a sick game they play, a human hunt.”
“The humans don’t stand a chance,” I agreed.
The voice from the back cut through our exchange, jarring and unrepentant. “We buy them fair and square!” our captive insisted.
I whipped around, fixing him with a glare. “Buy humans? You’re not seriously suggesting—”
He smirked back, all bravado and misplaced pride. “I’m not suggesting anything. I’m stating a fact.”
His silence after that was as thick as the tension in the SUV. Carter and I exchanged a look that didn’t need words. There was a market for humans, and we had just scratched the surface.
* * *
The damp coat clung to my frame like a second skin as I collapsed into my chair in an unceremonious flop. My hair, drenched from the night’s downpour, hung limply around my face. With the perp securely locked up, the night’s adrenaline ebbed away, leaving me with nothing but the chill that seemed to seep into my bones.
Carter peeled off his jacket with a methodical ease and took up residence at his desk. Four stories below the bustling streets, the SIA facility was a symphony of modernity, where every surface gleamed with purpose, and every device hummed with quiet efficiency.
The air, filtered and circulated with silent sophistication, carried a faint, engineered freshness devoid of the city’s cacophony of scents. It was a bubble of technological purity, an oasis of calm insulated from the chaos above.
“You look like you’ve been dragged through hell and back,” Carter remarked, his eyes taking in the smudges of fatigue that were the only color on my otherwise pale face.
“It’s been one of those nights, you know?” I gestured aimlessly, my exhaustion manifesting in my half-hearted attempt at humor. “I can manage without the coddling, Carter.”
“Someone’s gotta do it,” he shot back. “You’re not exactly a poster child for self-care.”
I scoffed, leaning back in my chair. “Hey, I’ve been on my own since I was practically in diapers. I can handle a little rain and a late night.”
But Carter knew the score. I had no family, no maternal figure to cluck over me. I was a product of the state—Raven Black, a name as on the nose as it was a constant reminder of my beginnings, an orphaned babe left in the care of nuns. My life had been a series of temporary homes and even more temporary attachments until the streets became my home.
Carter, with his infuriatingly charming penchant for meddling, had slipped into the role of my protector, the knight I never summoned yet found myself begrudgingly reliant upon. It was that look in his eyes, a blend of concern and something else, something that sent an unexpected shiver down my spine—a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
His gaze lingered a little too long; the corners of his mouth twitched with a restrained smile, speaking a language our banter never touched. Sure, he worried, but beneath that, there was a pull, a silent acknowledgment of the electric current that thrummed between us, as palpable as the storm outside.
I wasn’t just any lone agent—I was Raven Black, self-reliant, self-assured, and more than capable. I’d built walls as high as the ones that housed the rogue supernaturals we hunted. Yet, here was Carter, finding cracks I hadn’t patched, glimpses of vulnerability I didn’t voice.
He’d taken it upon himself to become my watchdog, but the truth was, Carter wasn’t just watching out for me. He was watching me, always one step too close, his presence a constant warmth at my back. And as much as I’d never admit it out loud, his nearness sparked a dangerous dance in my chest, tempting me to lean into the heat, if only to stave off the chill.
“Raven,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.
I rolled my eyes at his concern and cut him off before he could wrap me in cotton wool. “So, selling humans, eh?”
He let his hand fall, and his fingers found the keyboard instead. I sprawled in my seat, watching him take the bait, the workhorse to my slacker.
“Coming up empty,” he grumbled. “We’re gonna need to cozy up to Redmeadows PD for their missing persons list.”
I righted myself, a cascade of water from my hair pooling on the floor. Logging in, I began searching our recent cases that involved humans turning up dead. If humans were being shopped around, there was a system, a sick cycle of capture and sale. Did the hunters mark the prey first or just snag whoever was convenient? I wagered the former—it had the stink of ‘organized’ all over it.
Those reported missing within a day of turning up dead, I tossed aside. In our twisted world, a missing person was a dead person—supernaturals didn’t kidnap, they hunted. And in their twisted game, humans were nothing but pawns, morsels. It always led back to the bloodsuckers, with their thirst and their cloaks and their drama. But a gnawing suspicion crept in—what if the wolves were playing a game of their own, a shadowy hunt no one saw coming?
