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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We have a deadline, and worse than that, we have an ultimatum.
Either we find these wolves and bring their heads to our organisation or we lose everything we have worked for. I am nothing if not a hunter. It’s all I know. I cannot be anything else. I was born to kill, and killing is all I’m good at.
We cannot fail, and it’s clear the others know that.
We are tense as we head out. “Let’s check the traps first, then we are going to land registry. The pack is here somewhere. We just need to find it,” Vale snaps.
I follow them silently. No, I cannot afford to lose my family and job. I may as well have died that night if I do.
The traps are all empty. Our fellow hunters were right—the wolves have pulled back, no doubt due to Quinn’s return. They are not hiding, but they are waiting. I can sense it in the air. Even the forest seems alive with it, threatening us for daring to invade nature.
Instead, we try a different approach, spending hours reading and combing through archives within the city council office. It has to be here somewhere. If they are in the area, then they musthave some kind of permit for land registry, but nothing here is digitised.
It’s all unorganised paper, and the man who showed us to the storage room laughed and wished us luck before leaving.
We’ll need it.
It will take us weeks, maybe even months, to get through this all.
“Let’s discard anything in the last five years. It’s clear the pack is old, so we need to check the older records. Nothing within town limits. Break it down and work together. We have no other option.” Lucien sighs and starts handing out boxes.
I settle in for the long haul, even as my mind itches for more, reminding me what I am.
A killer.
A hunter, nothing more.
“Jai!”
The wail of terror has me waking.
Slipping from my bed, I hit the wooden floor with a bang. I blink, trying to wake and clear the fog from my head.
“Ahh!” The shriek of pain has me pushing to my feet and tripping from my room, out onto the landing. I slide across the wood floor and stumble over the white rug, which has something red spilled across it. Heart hammering, I glance over the banister.
The front door hangs open at a strange angle, the sofa is tipped over, and claw marks mar the wooden stairs Dad just repainted. At the bottom, my father lies in a heap.
I watch a pool of blood grow around him when a black shape suddenly emerges from the shadow of the dining roomright next to the stairs, and I watch in silent horror as it grips my dad’s unmoving legs and tugs him away.
I stumble back as his body drags through the blood before sliding out of sight.
“Help me, please!” The scream echoes around the house, and I turn.
My gaze lands on the partially open wooden door of my parents’ room.
I hurry down the hall, grabbing the golf club my dad forgot to put away on the way. Swallowing hard, I press my shaking hand to the wood and push.
The hinges creak as the door swings inwards, and my stomach churns at the sight before me.
My mum is on her once pristine white bed, which is now covered in blood and gore. The wooden post my grandfather hand carved before his death is covered in scratch marks as she holds onto one, her eyes wide in fear.
Above her is a beast that’s ripping into her body.
I numbly realise it’s eating her as she screams.
I must make a noise because the feasting stops.
