I wait patiently as he counts the cash in front of me, showing me the bonus he’s giving me for a job well done.
He gave me a mark. I carried out the assignment without any inquiries or assistance required. And now I’m being paid for it.
“You military-types are unnervingly silent,” he says.
I don’t reply. He assumes I’m military because I’m good at what I do. I don’t bother correcting him because I don’t need to explain myself. I’m a freelance assassin. The suit is just my version of a mask.
If he saw the claws beneath, there would be questions.
And I really fucking hate questions.
This guy has several on his mind. I can see them in his dark eyes. But he’s smart enough to keep his mouth shut, instead thanking me with cash.
He slides the final payment across the oak desk. “Send my best to your brother.”
I nearly snort as I slip the thick envelope into my jacket pocket. Tieran isn’t my brother. He’s blond with blue eyes and about two inches shorter than my six-foot-five frame. But sure, we look exactly alike, what with my dark hair, matching eyes, and inked arms.
Standing, I dismiss myself without a word.
If this jackass needs another hit, he knows who to call.
My brother.
This time I do snort.
Tieran will fucking love that.
Caius looks more like me than fucking Tieran.
Not that the human knows Caius. His specialty in this world is making deals and putting people in debt. Specifically,ourdebt.
I’m the assassin.
Tieran’s the boss.
Fucking brother, I repeat, shaking my head as I make my way out of the rich dick’s house. His private security steers clear of me, fully aware of my reputation for death.
Or maybe they can just smell the stench of it on my skin.
Whatever.
There are worse reputations in life than being seen as the literal grim reaper.
I push outside and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It calms my soul, allowing me to exist in the serenity of the moment. Two more guards immediately jump out of my way, their eyes averted.
They have no idea what I really am, and they’re still submitting.
Pathetic mortals.
I take my keys from the waiting valet and slide into my favorite toy. It’s one of the perks for off-island life.
The Elders think they’re so smart, sending all the rejected wolves to their “Reject Islands.”
It’s their way of controlling the chaos associated with breaking fated bonds.
Some wolves can handle the rejection, others can’t. It’s the ones who can’t that created this new order that mandates all rejects to report to Wolfe Island. That’s where they make assignments, sending the wolves to their new packs.
The Elders police some of the islands more heavily than the others.
