His Mate, His Kill By Vee Jay

Alpha Vorian gets everything he wants. Women swoon, money flows, and his charm is lethal. But beneath the surface lies a darker truth by night, he's an elite assassin, flawless and feared, a man who never misses his mark.

Kavira has spent her life in the shadows. Forced to live outside the pack her brother rules as Alpha, she’s carved her own path one that’s built on loyalty, survival, and righting wrongs. Alongside her tight-knit crew, she reclaims what was stolen and returns it to its rightful owners.

When a powerful enemy paints a target on Kavira’s back, her world spirals.

And the assassin hired to take her out?

Alpha Vorian himself.

But fate has other plans.

Because the moment he finds her, he realizes the thief he’s meant to kill… is his mate.

Will Vorian follow through with the job? Or will he defy everything he’s ever known to protect the one woman he was never supposed to love?

Blurb

Kavira POV

“She’s back!” Maelira’s voice rang out from inside the cabin, and I couldn’t help but laugh under my breath as I stepped through the door of our cozy little hideaway in the woods.

Once upon a time, we were the self-proclaimed three troublemakers, but as we grew older, the name faded, and we became something closer to sisters. Real, unbreakable bonds forged through chaos, survival, and choice.

I’m Kavira. Five-foot-seven, deep green-blue eyes, long waves of dark brown hair that cascade to my waist, and a slim, toned build hardened by years of independence. My brother is the Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack, but I’ve never taken to pack life not after the way we grew up. I carved out something different for myself. A life on my own terms with two incredible women by my side. My brother respects that, and we still co-own a successful jewelry business.

Maelira is the fire in our trio. She stands at 5'5", her porcelain skin kissed with freckles, light red curls tumbling around her mischievous golden eyes. She’s all sass and flirtation, never one to back away from a challenge. The kind of woman who’d hustle a group of men at pool, take every dollar, and wink as she walked away. Behind the charm, though, is a survivor. Orphaned young, she’s been looking out for herself since she could walk. I met her when she tried to pickpocket my brother. I caught her in the act, took the blame, and he let her live. We were both sixteen, and that moment sealed us together. We still laugh about it now.

Zivenya is our steady calm. The girl-next-door, with Indian heritage and a graceful strength about her. Long black hair with a gentle wave, brown skin, 5'7" like me, with a soft, lean frame. She prefers jeans and a good shirt over anything fancy. Her family had traveled from India to the U.S. for our jewelry business. But a car accident took them from her. She happened to be at our house when it happened. With no other relatives, she stayed. I was seventeen, she was sixteen. Maelira and I brought her in, claimed her as our own.

My brother gave both girls honorary pack status so they wouldn’t carry the scent of rogues. But we weren’t like other wolves. Over the years, we developed a unique skill set some would call it criminal; we call it necessary. Maelira taught us to pickpocket. We taught her how to use that talent for more noble causes.

Our first real job? A Luna in South Dakota bought a stunning blue diamond earring set from our store. I had to deliver it personally. Not long after, someone nearly killed her and stole the earrings. We tracked them down and got them back. She lived. And her Alpha was grateful. Word got out.

Now, people come to us when something needs to be found. We don’t steal for greed we recover what should never have been taken. The wolf version of Robin Hood, I suppose. Not for the needy, but for the rightful.

The three of us can adapt, seduce, infiltrate, and vanish without a trace. We move constantly for “work,” but this little mountain cottage in Montana is our safe haven. Hidden deep in a valley, it’s camouflaged to look like the surrounding woods nothing but shrubs and trees from above. Only when you’re standing right in front of it do you realize it’s a home. A porch swing, a quiet sitting nook, peace. No one finds us here. Nothing can touch us.

Men? They’re rarely more than a means to an end. Occasional fun. A way to blow off steam. None of us have been interested in mates for years. That fantasy of a destined bond, of being swept into a castle and pampered it faded with age. We’re in our late twenties now. We trust each other, and that’s enough.

That afternoon, I was on the porch swing, watching birds dart through the trees and squirrels chase each other across branches. This was my favorite place serene, safe, still. My phone buzzed, snapping me from my daze. Unknown number. I answered anyway. You never know who might be calling.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Lazara?”

“Who’s asking?” I replied cautiously.

A low chuckle followed. “I need your services. Word is, you’re the one to call when something... needs finding.”

“Oh?”

“Apologies. Alpha Cyran gave me your contact.”

That caught my attention. Alpha Cyran was the one we helped in South Dakota.

“He told me to say... lady bird. Whatever that means.”

A flicker of tension released. That was our code phrase. Legit.

“What do you need?”

“I’d prefer to discuss it in person. There’s a new restaurant Green Olive. Meet me at 8 p.m. in the VIP section.”

I checked the time. 3 p.m. Plenty of time to get ready.

“And who am I meeting?”

“My name is Boaz Callahan,” he said, and the line went dead.

Boaz Callahan? As in Vice President Boaz Callahan?

“Holy shit.” I jumped off the swing and ran inside. “GIRLS!”

Maelira and Zivenya were at the kitchen table, munching on cookies. I snatched one and took a bite chocolate chip, still warm.

“Are you gonna tell us, or just moan over that cookie?” Maelira teased.

I gave her the finger, then finished my bite. “Boaz Callahan called me.”

Zivenya blinked. “The Boaz Callahan? Vice President Boaz Callahan?”

“Pretty sure. I’m meeting him at that new upscale place. I need a dress. Fancy one.”

“Oooh, what about the blue?” Maelira suggested.

“No, red. Her tits look amazing in red,” Zivenya countered.

“She already has enough tits!” Maelira shot back.

I left them to bicker while I showered. Afterward, I braided my hair to the side and went for a simple makeup look just enough to highlight my features. The girls held up a shimmering red gown. One shoulder, floor-length, slit up the thigh. Hugged every curve while keeping my cleavage respectable.

I slipped into it, grabbed my red-bottom heels, and headed out.

“Be careful!” Zivenya called.

“Let us know if you need backup!” Maelira added.

“Don’t wait up!” I said with a wink, making my way to the four-wheeler. We kept our cars in a hidden garage ten miles away. Once there, I switched to my 2021 Jaguar F-Type black on black. Sleek. Deadly. She purred to life, and I headed out.

I considered dropping the top, but I didn’t want to wreck my hair. Maybe on the way back.

By the time I pulled up to the Green Olive, the place was alive packed for its grand opening, twinkling with Vintage-style lighting strung across glass walls, elegant yet mysterious. The valet helped me out, and I walked inside without a coat. One perk of being a werewolf I never get cold.

As I waited for the hostess, I scanned the room. It was stunning. My eyes locked on a man across the space a walking sin. Tall, dangerous, magnetic. He was deep in conversation with the mayor, but my body moved on instinct, like gravity was pulling me toward him.

I barely took a step before someone bumped me, snapping me out of it.

“Good evening. Name, miss?” the hostess asked.

“Lazara Hollis,” I said, using my usual alias for client work.

She smiled. “Right this way.”

Up the stairs, to a private room with a single table. As I entered, my heart tugged toward the man downstairs. The farther I got, the harder it was to breathe.

Inside, Boaz Callahan stood. Older, mid-sixties, Asian descent, dignified with graying hair. He extended his hand.

“Miss Lazara. I know your real name, of course. In public, I’ll respect your alias.”

“In private, you can call me Kavira,” I said, letting him guide me into my seat.

“You’re a wolf,” I stated. I could smell it now.

He chuckled. “Yes. Please, call me Boaz. Few people know, and I prefer to keep it that way. I work closely with companies supporting our kind preserving the forests, protecting our rights. I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

I picked up my wine. “I’m not picky.”

Dinner arrived chicken alfredo with garlic bread, a side of shrimp, and steak for him. The food? Incredible.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked shrimp, so I ordered them just in case.”

“Thanks,” I said, adding them to my pasta.

He leaned in slightly. “Time is short, so I’ll be blunt. This is sensitive. No proof, no suspects. It blurs the line between human laws and pack justice. I need you to retrieve something and return it to the Museum of National Treasure.”

I stared at him, studying his expression. No lies.

“I’ll send the details via secure email. This is top priority. Only your girls can know no one else.”

“Understood.” I wrote my secure email on a napkin and passed it to him. “Burn that once it’s sent. Then delete the message. We don’t take chances.”

Boaz nodded. “Of course, Miss Lazara.”

He kissed the back of my hand and left.

I downed the rest of my wine and made my way out. But I wasn’t done. I needed to find that man I saw earlier. I wandered until I found an office candles, romantic setup. He had a mate, maybe. That shouldn’t have stung.

But it did.

Maybe I was jealous. Maybe I just wanted to ride that man until he forgot his own name.

“May I ask what you’re doing, ma’am?” came a voice behind me.

Shit.

Continue Reading

Chapter 1

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Chapter 2

Vorian POV

"Come back to bed, Vorian. Please!"

Her voice carried from the bed, syrupy with desire. Clingy little thing but she knew the deal. No strings. No promises. Just a good time. That’s how I liked it.

I poured another glass of scotch and met my reflection in the mirror icy blue eyes sharp as blades, dark brown hair longer in the front, tapered at the sides, jawline sharp enough to cut glass, the hint of a shadow on my cheeks that apparently made women weak in the knees. I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Still do.

My phone rang before I could answer her again. The sound grated. She hadn’t used my title. That’d be dealt with shortly. But first the call.

I accepted with a tap. "Yeah?"

“I’ve got something for you. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Rogue's been lighting shit up. People. Property. I’ve got his location. I want it handled now. Payment will reflect the urgency.”

I swirled my drink, unfazed. “Send the intel. I’ll need an hour, then I’m on it.”

Click.

No goodbye. Just business. I silenced my phone and turned back to the woman tangled in my red silk sheets. Pale skin like cream against crimson and black legs long and bare beneath the covers. She sat up when she saw me approach, the silk sliding from her breasts like a slow tease. Hardened nipples met the air. My cock was already halfway there just from the sight.

Her nails trailed down my abs, catching on the edge of my boxer-briefs. Three rounds in and I was still hard. But since she’d conveniently forgotten how to address me, she could show her apology with her mouth.

"What did you just call me?" My voice was low. Controlled.

Her eyes widened. Fear flickered. “A-Alpha Vorian! I just thought... we knew each other well enough that maybe one little slip wasn’t”

She tried to save it with a sultry look. It almost worked. Almost.

I pointed down. “Fix it.”

She didn’t hesitate. My shorts were off in seconds, and her mouth wrapped around me like she was born for it. Tongue swirling, jaw working, one hand pumping what she couldn’t fit, the other gently massaging my balls. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m built big and not just by werewolf standards.

She took it like a pro. She should she’s the pack’s designated bedwarmer, always angling for Luna status. But I’ve made it clear: I don’t need a Luna. Just a warm body. Someone eager to please.

I gripped the back of her head and pushed deeper. Harder. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t pull back. Not until I groaned and finished down her throat. She’d be feeling it tomorrow. Bruised lips. Sore throat. That kind of pain only the worthy earned.

“Good girl,” I muttered. “Now get dressed. I’ve got a job to do.”

I turned away and stepped into the shower, ignoring her as she whined, “Can’t I stay? I’ll keep your bed warm till you get back!”

I let the hot water scald my skin, rinsing off the sweat, sex, and streaks of pink from the night’s roughness. I didn’t even remember drawing blood, but it didn’t surprise me. I don’t do gentle.

After drying off, I suited up in my kill clothes black tactical boots, fitted combat pants, long-sleeved shirt. My tan skin contrasted beneath the fabric, but I always wore a black cap and ski mask on the job. I didn’t always need it. No one ever lived to describe me. Still, precaution was part of the game.

They call me “The Shadowfang Killer.”

The irony? My pack is the Shadowfang Pack.

Only two people know the truth my beta and gamma. Lifelong friends. Partners in secrets. They help track targets, collect dirt, and clean up the messes.

I mind-linked my beta. Got a job. Be back by morning.

Need anything? he answered, voice groggy.

Nah. If I’m late, handle training.

10-4. He cut the link.

A notification pinged on my phone. Secure inbox. I keyed in my code and scanned the message:

Target: Tavian Callahan

Male, 24

Location: 35 miles west of Jordan, Montana.

Isolated cabin near Fort Peck Reservoir.

Occupants: One minor female, 13. Hostage. Rescue scheduled for morning.

Crimes: Arson, multiple homicides, 9 confirmed dead.

Payment: $150k upon completion. Bonus $15k if minor remains untouched.

Attached was his photo. Grimy bastard. Greasy beard, missing teeth, eyes like mud. Looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. I could almost smell the rot from here.

Time to hunt.

VORIAN POV

“Mister Vorian, Miss Delphine. Shall I escort you to your office?”

“No, thank you, Calista. What’s the situation tonight?”

“The governor is seated in Section Three. A few government officials are in Section One. The mayor is in Section Five. The VIP and his guest haven’t arrived yet.”

“Guest?” I snapped, annoyed. “No one told me he was bringing someone.”

“Same here. He called about an hour ago to inform us he'd have company and requested a completely private space. I moved him to the conference room. Don’t worry it’s arranged exactly to your standards,” Calista said with a slight bow.

I exhaled, steadying my reaction. Interesting. Still, I trusted Calista to handle it flawlessly. “Alright. Have a waiter deliver our special to my office for Miss Delphine. She’ll eat there while I make my rounds. Anything else I need to know?”

“No, sir. Everything’s ahead of schedule food prep, wine service, all the basics. Everyone seems content so far. But you might want to start with the mayor. He believes he’s tonight’s main attraction and insists on being greeted immediately.” Calista mimicked his overly delicate tone, air-quoting the words with a smirk.

I returned the smirk with a nod and headed toward my office. The building, a two-story brick structure I’d personally renovated, had once been home to greasy, fried food and little else. Now, it housed my fine dining restaurant an upscale retreat I hoped would become the go-to location for high-ranking officials and influential elites.

“That girl deserves a raise,” Delphine remarked, settling herself into a chair in front of my desk.

My office wasn’t modest. The entire back wall was tinted two-way glass, allowing me to observe the restaurant without being seen. An L-shaped desk dominated the center of the room, while a fully stocked bar stretched across the far wall. A plush sitting area had been temporarily moved aside to accommodate a beautifully set dinner table for two though I hadn’t intended to dine there. They didn’t need to know that.

“I told her if tonight went well, I’d promote her to manager. She’s sharp. More importantly, dependable. Now behave. I’ve got rounds to run,” I said, turning on my heel.

I began with the conference room, confirming Calista had everything arranged to perfection. Satisfied, I headed to the kitchen. I double-checked the staff’s presentation, signed a few shipping documents, and smoothed over a minor kitchen dispute. Routine.

After greeting the mayor, I was mid-conversation when his gaze wandered behind me. Curious, I turned.

And saw her.

Tall. Striking. That figure. That hair rich, dark waves that framed a face so stunning it nearly knocked the breath out of me. She carried an aura. Commanding, magnetic. My cock stirred at just the sight of her. And deeper than lust, something ancient inside me reacted heart and instinct drawn toward her like gravity. Before I realized it, I was moving.

“Excuse me, sir,” I said curtly and headed straight for her.

She stood in line, waiting to be acknowledged by the hostess, who had a few guests ahead. As I crossed the room, a crash echoed from the kitchen.

Glass breaking.

Heads turned. Mine included.

Then I saw a flash of strawberry blonde hair and fury surged through me.

By the time I turned back, the mysterious woman had vanished.

The staff managed the disturbance well, quickly settling the room. I stormed into the kitchen.

Delphine was yelling. At Calista.

Red wine soaked the front of Delphine’s designer dress. A shattered plate lay at her feet.

I seized both of their arms and dragged them into a back room.

“Explain,” I ordered, glaring at Calista.

“I delivered the special to your office as instructed. Miss Delphine wasn’t there, so I set it down and went to find her. She was mingling with guests. I escorted her back, but by then her food had gone cold. She stormed into the kitchen through the exit yelling about her cold food. Cyrus was coming through with wine and couldn’t stop in time. The glass spilled.”

“I am not a child! You don’t guide me anywhere!” Delphine snapped, raising her hand.

I caught her wrist midair and leveled her with a lethal stare.

“Did you mingle with my guest?” I growled. My Alpha presence thickened the air. Calista trembled under it. Delphine paled.

“There were people I knew! I was just”

“I don’t give a damn what you thought. I told you to stay in my office.”

“But my dress”

“You’re lucky that’s all that happened! You could’ve caused serious harm barging through a traffic door! Calista have them bring my car to the back. I’m taking her home. I’ll try to return before the VIP leaves.”

“What? No!” Delphine cried as I gripped her wrist and led her out the rear exit. Calista nodded and silently resumed her duties.

“NOT. ANOTHER. WORD.” My Alpha command left no room for disobedience.

Delphine shrank into the seat, tears streaking silently down her cheeks as we sped toward her family’s estate.

“If I miss this meeting,” I said through gritted teeth, “we’re done.”

Just before we reached her gates, my phone rang.

“He’s here, Mister Vorian. He and his date have already ordered. He mentioned he’s in a hurry I doubt you’ll make it back before they leave. I’ll personally oversee everything.”

“Thank you, Calista.” I ended the call.

“Stupid bitch,” Delphine muttered under her breath.

My eyes glowed crimson.

I stopped the car, got out, and yanked her from the seat.

Her father appeared at the front door, confusion etched on his face.

“She ruined my grand opening. I’m done,” I told him, then turned to her. “Lose my number.”

“My apologies, Alpha Vorian,” her father said solemnly. “I raised her better. I’ll handle it.”

I gave him a stiff nod and pulled away from the estate. But before I could get far, my phone rang again. It was Calista.

“Is everything okay?” I answered, heart already pounding.

Her voice crackled through the speaker, breathless. “No! Hurry back, h--”

Then silence.

The line went dead.

My pulse spiked as I slammed the gas, racing the car and my fear to see which of us reached the restaurant faster.

Vorian POV

Ring, ring!

The shrill sound of my phone shattered the brief silence and pissed me off. I’d just gotten back, still dragging the weight of an extended stay at that cursed cabin. What should’ve been a simple extraction turned out to be a two-target operation. No warning about the second man holding that little girl hostage. Sloppy. He was so hammered it wasn’t even a thrill just slid my hand into his chest and ripped out his heart. Easy. Boring.

The mountain lion ended up sticking around, curling up beside the girl. I left him there. I knew he’d guard her like his own if anyone dared show up. But for the second target? Yeah, I’d be expecting a bigger payout.

I snatched up the phone. “Yeah?”

“Alpha Vorian! I’m so excited for our date tonight! I’ll be ready by six. Don’t be late again, okay?” Delphine’s syrupy voice rang through the speaker, grating on my nerves.

Delphine. The daughter of a neighboring Alpha, part of our alliance for generations since my grandfather ruled. She’s 5’9", has that soft strawberry-blonde hair that falls just to her chest, a decent figure, and those ever-curious brown eyes. She’s not hard on the eyes, and she’s damn good at putting on a polished front. Her father likes to send her with me to public events to play the perfect escort, which works to my advantage the press eats it up, and the jealous girls line up to try harder for my attention. A win-win.

Except… Delphine’s ego has grown to match her delusion. She thinks I’m going to make her my Luna, even though I’ve told her more than once that’s not happening.

“It’s not a date,” I said, voice flat. “It’s the grand opening of my restaurant. I have business to handle. You’ll probably be eating alone in my office.”

“Nonsense! I have to finish getting ready don’t be late!” She hung up before I could respond.

Sighing, I leaned back in my office chair, already regretting agreeing to bring her. Across from me sat Varek my beta, my best friend since birth. Our fathers were Alpha and Beta before us, so it was bound to happen, but what we built was more than duty. He’s one of the only people I take advice from without a price attached.

Varek was just as tall as me, his arms inked in full sleeves, hair dark and tousled, eyes even darker. He wore his usual piercings spacers in his ears, a lip ring. The guy could look scary as hell, but he was loyal to the bone. Also the best damn wingman I’ve ever had. We’ve both taken a few for the team.

He gave me that familiar deadpan stare. “Dude. Just drop her already. She’s a high-maintenance, manipulative brat.”

I chuckled darkly. “Yeah, no argument there. But she plays the part when it matters. Knows how to smile for the cameras and not act like she’s never seen a wine glass before.”

“Then take the one from the other night. The little nympho you dragged to your room.”

“The pack’s resident mattress? Please. My image’s already hanging by a thread with Delphine’s fantasies. I’m not handing her the crown either.”

Varek shrugged, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers. “You’d be stronger with a Luna beside you.”

“Or vulnerable when she gets hurt. I don’t need emotional liabilities, Varek.”

He smirked. “Whatever gets your blood pumping, man. But it’s 4:30 you’d better get ready. I’ll have the Lambo waiting out front and close things up here.”

At exactly six, I pulled up to the gates of Silverblade Pack in my cherry-red Lamborghini. I didn’t even get the chance to step out Delphine appeared the second my headlights hit her front walk. Her dress was all shimmer and glitter, light pink, hugging every curve like it had been stitched to her skin. It washed her out in my opinion, but she knew how to show off what she had.

I pressed the passenger button. She opened the door and slid inside with a practiced elegance. The plunging neckline nearly spilled her tits into her lap, and the slit in the dress climbed high enough I nearly got a full view.

“Oh, good! You’re on time for once.” She leaned over to kiss me. I gave her my cheek. Then hit the button to shut her door and peeled out of the driveway toward the restaurant.

“Listen, I’ve got a very important guest coming tonight. A VIP. I need you to stay put in my office. I’ll be moving around, checking on the staff, and I have to greet him personally.”

“Ooh, a mystery VIP?” she cooed. “Who is it?”

“Not your business. Just stay away from them, Delphine. I’m serious. Don’t ruin this.”

“Relax, I’ll play the perfect girlfriend.”

“You’re not my girlfriend.” My jaw clenched. My patience was thinning fast.

She gave me a side-eye. “Well, if you want to keep parading me around like your arm candy, I expect to get something out of it too. I’ve got an image to maintain, same as you.”

I didn’t even look at her. “That’s Alpha Vorian, Delphine. We’re not in public yet. Watch your mouth.”

“Mmm, gonna punish me for it? Maybe give me a spanking?” she purred.

I let my eyes flash red, fixing her with a silent threat.

She got the message. Backed off. Stayed quiet the rest of the ride.

Finally, we arrived.

The front of my restaurant Green Olive was roped off to keep the crowds at bay. Flashbulbs exploded in bursts of white, blinding as we stepped out. I hit both door buttons, stepping out as one of my staff helped Delphine from her seat.

I walked around and offered her my arm. She took it, all poise and polish now. The shouting started immediately paparazzi calling my name, reporters thrusting mics. I recognized some faces from news outlets, others from local columns.

I paused for a few brief interviews.

“Thank you all for coming to Green Olive’s grand opening,” I said smoothly. “We’ll be sending out food samples to everyone waiting outside. A little taste of what you’re missing.”

Questions about Delphine came next, but I sidestepped them. She smiled like a professional, nodding along and keeping her mouth shut. She knew better than to speak unless told.

The press would eat it up. Mystery woman on my arm? The speculation alone would buy me weeks of media attention. Free publicity.

Inside, the hostess greeted us with a respectful bow one of my pack members. Some staff were wolves, others humans. I’d trained them all to be precise, polished, professional.

What the public didn’t know? Most of them were former rogues, runaways, or orphans. I gave them work. Purpose. A future. Legally, of course. I put cash in their pockets and loyalty in their hearts.

They were misfits to the world but to me, they were warriors in uniform.

Vorian POV

Fifty miles on my bike, followed by a twenty-mile hike to reach his property. Hiking gave me the advantage stealth, a clearer view of traps, and no chance of engine noise giving me away.

I powered down my phone, slid it into my pocket, and headed for the garage.

The packhouse was big more than enough space for what I needed but this wasn’t my real home. Just a convenience. My actual residence the one I inherited after my parents died is off-limits to everyone. No one goes there. Ever.

I grabbed my keys from the wall, slung my go-bag over my shoulder, and crossed the garage to where my bike sat my blacked-out beauty. A Ducati 749. Sleek, aggressive, unstoppable. She was mine, and I loved her for it.

Leather jacket on, helmet secure, I took off into the night, tearing through Montana’s winding roads. The wind in my face, the power between my legs it made me feel untouchable. Alive.

Wildlife passed me by in streaks of motion elk, deer, even a mountain lion or two. I spotted bats circling above, owls perched on high limbs, small creatures darting beneath the brush. This this wild, untamed world is where I felt most like myself.

A soft chime from my GPS told me I’d reached my bike drop-off. I found a patch of thick brush, well-hidden, and tucked her away with care. Satisfied, I keyed in the next coordinates and started the hike.

The moon hung heavy overhead, casting shadows across the forest floor. Life still stirred in the undergrowth and trees.

Then I heard it a mountain lion’s cry. Not a hunting sound. A scream of pain. It was close.

Cautiously, I approached.

I found him quickly large, male, caught in a steel bear trap. Blood oozed around the crushed paw, and he thrashed, doing more harm than the trap already had.

Setting my pack down, I stepped into view. He saw me and immediately bristled, growling low with bared teeth.

“Easy,” I murmured. “I’m not here to hurt you. Let me help.”

I let my eyes glow, flickering to red as I called on my dominance. My wolf, Hunter, wasn’t just any beast he commanded submission wherever he went. The second the mountain lion saw those eyes, he quieted. Whined low. Submitted.

“That’s it,” I said softly and moved in.

I carefully pried open the jaws of the trap, freeing his injured leg. Then I returned to my bag, grabbed a water bottle, and rinsed the wound, checking for breaks. It was superficial messy, but clean. He’d recover.

I turned to leave, but heard his paws behind me. The mountain lion had stood and was now following.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He blinked at me.

Fine. Let him tag along. Turned out, it was a smart move. He walked ahead of me and sniffed out bear traps before I got near them. Between the two of us, we made it safely through the forest.

Smoke curled into the sky in the distance thin, but distinct. The cabin.

I crouched low, creeping until it came into view. From inside, the high-pitched cries of a child cut through the night, followed by the unmistakable, sickening sound of a slap against skin.

Rage flared hot in my chest. A child. No one no child, no woman deserved that.

Yes, I use women for pleasure. But they come to my bed willingly. They know the rules. And punishment is never for pleasure it’s for disrespect.

I was weighing my options when the cabin door creaked open and a man stepped out onto the porch, cigarette between his fingers. Tavian. Greasy hair, blood under his nails, soul long since rotted. He lit up, took a slow drag.

I stepped forward, drawing the thick-bladed knife from my waistband. My beta liked to call it a "mini machete," but there was nothing mini about it.

I was on him before he could exhale the smoke.

One clean slice, ear to ear.

He didn’t even scream just choked as the blood pulsed with each dying heartbeat. I watched as confusion faded into realization… and then final, still acceptance. His body collapsed into a red pool at my feet.

The mountain lion padded beside me and growled at the corpse.

“He’s yours. Leave the girl,” I said.

I swear the lion gave a nod before pouncing, teeth sinking into the limp body. I turned and started walking away.

Then I heard the door fly open behind me.

“WAIT! Don’t leave me here! Please I beg you!”

I spun around.

A little girl, no older than five, bolted from the cabin. She threw herself at my leg, gripping it tight. Her tiny frame was covered in blood and burns, bruises littered her arms and face. My throat tightened.

He’d tortured her.

I froze, uncertain.

What the hell do I do with a kid?

“Someone will come for you in the morning,” I said stiffly.

“No, please! I-I don’t wanna be alone! It’s dark I’m scared!” she sobbed, trembling all over.

Shit.

“Alright,” I relented. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. I’ll stay till you fall asleep.”

She nodded and followed me back inside.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I stepped in behind her.

“Evadne,” she mumbled, wiping her nose on her arm.

“Here,” I said, grabbing a tissue from a dusty box on a nearby table. “Use this.”

We found the bathroom after checking a couple of doors. “Can you shower yourself?” I asked, suddenly uneasy.

“Yes, but I need help with my hair,” she admitted quietly.

“Alright. Hop in and call when you’re ready.” I turned on the water, made sure it wasn’t too hot, then stepped out of the room.

While she bathed, I checked the bedrooms. Found one with a bed that wasn’t completely destroyed and threw on a few clean blankets.

“Mister?” her small voice called out.

I returned to find her head peeking from behind the curtain.

“You good?”

“Can you help me rinse my hair?”

Thankfully, the shower had a detachable head. I stepped in, careful to keep my eyes where they belonged, and quickly helped rinse the soap from her hair.

“Alright. You’re good,” I said, pulling the curtain shut. “Take your time. I’ll be outside.”

Five minutes later, she emerged wrapped in a towel, padded to the bedroom, and climbed into bed, curling up in what looked like a makeshift nightgown fashioned from a pillowcase.

“Sleep. Someone will come for you in the morning.”

“I” she started, but was cut off by a loud bang. The front door flew open and slammed hard.

Hunter snapped to attention.

Something was coming.