Prologue
Somewhere in Seattle…
The little boy sat trembling in the darkest corner of the room, hands wrapped around his legs while he prayed the shadows would protect him.
Filling the small space was a deep, cautionarythudthe boy felt crawling down the edges of his spine. The dire sound seemed to bounce off the concrete walls and settle beneath his skin in a way that made him want to cry.
But he wouldn’t dare…
Not while the bad guy was close enough to hear him.
Moonlight flickered across the man’s sharp features, highlighting the angles of his jaw, and the darkness that flooded his eyes. His tanned skin seemed to carry a chill with it, infecting the pockets of air he walked through. Step by step, the breeze got colder, and every breath the man took looked like smoke billowing from his full lips.
Goosebumps pebbled across the little boy’s skin, and he hugged himself a little tighter as he watched the man’s boots come to a stop against the frayed carpeting.
A lull fell over the room as if this man harnessed the power of sound and made it so the only hum to be heard came directly from his throat. Lips curling upward, he bared every one of his teeth in a way that made the little boy’s stomach curl.
The boy didn’t know the man’s name, but the wicked smile carved throughout his narrow face and buried inside a dark beard had always reminded him of the big bad wolf.
So, that’s what the boy called him.
The wolf.
Cracked, bloodied knuckles dove into the unruly beard. The wolf stroked it in silence for several seconds before rapping those knuckles across the old desk that separated him from the boy’s father.
“You have my money?”
His father’s throat moved with his swallow. In his shaky grip was an overstuffed, wrinkled envelope he pushed across the table’s surface.
The wolf snatched it with quick fingers and thumbed through the cash it held. His lips moved as though he was counting, and after a beat, he stuffed the envelope into his waistband.
“You’re a day late,” the wolf said.
His father’s eyes dipped low. “I’m sorry. Thank you for your… patience.”
“Is that what you think I am, Cabrera? Patient?” The wolf chuckled a little and dragged a slow finger across the blade hanging from his belt loop.
“I’m not patient, and I sure as fuck don’t accept late payments.”
The boy saw his father’s kneecaps wobble.
“This cash? It’s interest. I’ll be back next week to collect the rest.”
“I… I can’t. I’d have to sell my house. My business.”
The wolf’s eyebrows arched.
“Please, I’m… I’m doing the best I can.”
“Alright, Cabrera, I’m feeling generous.” His tongue ran across his teeth. “You don’t have cash? Fine. I’ll accept an alternative form of payment.”
His father’s shoulders stiffened, and he rubbed his fingers across his mustache to hide the suspicion on his lips.
“An alter—”
“Put your hand on the desk.”
His father’s widened. “What?”
