by Reese Morgan
She lowered her gun and backed away, smiling cruelly.
Hayden watched her and the others retreat through lowered lids. Shane considered her one last time before joining his comrades. They left the room, but they were still within sight, keeping an eye on her from their position by the sliding door.
“Slayter?”
She turned, finally looking at the man sitting in the corner of the cell.
Zane Donovan had dark hair and a short beard, probably unmanaged with the days he spent inside the cell. Judging from the bucket of feces and the smell of unwashed body, Hayden deduced they did not allow him to bathe very often.
He was handsome in a sort of roguish way. Silver peppered his hair and stern lines permanently creased the corners of his gray eyes.
“What?” Hayden asked ineloquently, unsure of the man, of her position.
She’d killed his brother, after all.
Zane shifted, uncurling his arms from his heavy coat. “Is your alliance with the Slayter pack?” He lifted an eyebrow at her silence and untrusting expression. “You know me intimately enough. You’re standing next to a bucket of my shit, after all. Can’t I get your name and pack alliance, Hayden?”
He had a rough voice and an even rougher exterior, though he was not cruel.
Hayden shifted, leaning against the bars and testing them indiscreetly for their durability. “Hayden Grey,” she said. “And yes, I am a member of the Slayter pack.”
He watched her steadily, silently, before, “I supposed they didn’t think to take away the knives hidden underneath your coat. Or the fact you can probably wrestle those bars far enough apart to slink through.”
She stopped suddenly, seeing him in a new light.
He threw a lazy arm over his drawn knees, leaning back casually as he observed her. “I know these Hunters have allied themselves with Celeste. They’ve lulled all of the traditional werewolves into a sense of calm and unity. Tonight, Celeste is attacking from every angle outside the gated community. Additionally, all the Hunters in this neighborhood will turn on their werewolf allies inside the gates.”
Hayden tried not to let her despair show. “It will be an all-out slaughter.”
Zane nodded.
“The Hunters who adhere to me are far too scattered to be of any help.” He glanced at the open doorway, towards the three figures hovering nearby. “Celeste will most likely kill these Hunters as soon as they serve their purpose.”
“Is that supposed to make me pity them?”
Zane looked back at her. “Not at all.”
Distant popping sounds of gunfire reached Hayden’s ears. Her heart pounded as she imagined her pack. The Hunters who stayed behind would target the traditional werewolves settled inside the homes.
Likewise, outside the perimeter, the Hunters who accompanied the Alphas to fight Celeste’s men would also turn on their werewolf allies. Stab them in the back.
Hayden felt her body tremble and she looked away from Zane’s piercing stare.
“We no longer have time for systematics and well-thought of schemes to destroy her,” Zane grumbled. “We need to stop her now. I know a bit about what’s happening out there, but not enough. What is your plan?”
“We were going to attack her bases.”
She turned to look at him while simultaneously keeping an eye on the other Hunters. Two more men entered the basement and approached the room, their weapons out and ready to use if she so much moved aggressively.
“What good is that?”
Hayden grimaced at the man. “That’s where she creates the altered venom—”
“And that venom is what makes the werewolves superior, stronger, yes, I know.” Zane’s voice was quiet, hushed, and every bit hurried. He had a sense of urgency to him. “But your people are currently being hunted and murdered outside.”
She curled her hands around the bars behind her, her nails elongating.
“You’re losing people. You’re losing the order and the foundations you’ve built.” Zane ran a hand down his overgrown beard. “In a perfect scenario, you would attack her resources and her establishments first. Make her vulnerable and weak before using your last strike to cut her down. But you no longer have that luxury. She has outsmarted you. You need a sloppy and gritty solution to your problem. What is it?”
Hayden tried to focus on his voice, it was commanding enough, critical enough, but the sound of muffled gunfire set her nerves haywire.
“Look at me.”
She forced herself to focus on the man.
“What is your plan, Hayden?” he demanded, more loudly this time.
She bowed her head and took a deep breath. Zane wanted to hear a sloppy and gritty solution. Her father. That was the easiest and fastest solution.
Hayden shook her head.
Never. She’d never stoop that low.
“She has these Carriers,” she said hurriedly. “Two are left. I don’t believe there are any more. These two men are responsible for biting and Siring more altered werewolves. If we can target them, we can take a shortcut to destroying Celeste.”
Zane grunted. “And where will you find these two men?”
Hayden exhaled slowly. “Probably close to Celeste. Nolan and Evan.”
“They possess more intelligence than their transformed Mutts?”
Wordlessly, Hayden nodded.
“Then we go after those two males and Celeste. Destroy the masterminds behind the army.” Zane shifted. “After this is over, we will slowly weed and eliminate the remnants of what’s left over from Celeste’s regime.”
He stared at her as if trying to judge her fragile state of mind.
“Charming plan,” one of the Hunters commented from the doorway. He smirked and leveled his gun at Zane. “You’re playing nice with the werewolves, Donovan. That was your downfall all along. Why do you think there is a rift between the Hunters?”
His daughter was a werewolf, Hayden answered silently.
She remembered walking in on Zane asking if Rylee was unharmed. Though she hadn’t interacted long with the infamous Hunter, Hayden remembered hearing the desperate undertone in his voice.
He truly loved Rylee and wanted her safe.
It was the only reason Hayden trusted him in this situation.
Despite the gun aimed in his direction, Zane continued to watch Hayden. “Are you a fighter? Hayden?” He raised an eyebrow. “Or a damsel in distress?”
There was a challenge in his eyes.
With the anxious Hunter suddenly waving his weapon around in the air and the distant sounds of the massacre, something inside Hayden shattered. Her resolve crumbled and her emotions flat lined.
The human beings around her no longer possessed identities. They were enemies and Hayden would destroy every last one of them.
Only one, prevailing emotion coursed through her.
Bloodlust.
14. Chapter Fourteen
Her hand plunged swiftly into the lapels of her coat and withdrew a throwing knife. A breath later, the weapon flew between the bars of her cell and closed in on the Hunter.
“What—”
The knife honed in and embedded between the man’s eyes. He collapsed to the floor, knocking over the bright lamp. The bulb shattered upon impact, immediately sparking and catching flame on the heavy plastic.
By the time the other Hunters could react, Hayden already bent the bars of her prison and escaped through the gap. Retracting her knife from the dead Hunter and grabbing his gun, Hayden dodged quickly out of the smoking room, avoiding the oncoming bullets.
The burning plastic and sheetrock caused a noxious, dark smoke to fill the basement.
Throwing her forearm over her mouth and nose, Hayden ducked behind another hanging plastic, distancing herself from the Hunters and cloaking her presence. They were stealthy and they were well-trained men and women.
Nevertheless, Hayden was still the superior creature.
Holding her knife in her left hand, she kept her rig
ht arm raised and aimed. Despite the heavy smoke, her breathing was deep and controlled. She listened to their nearly inaudible footsteps, counting the number of beating hearts.
There were four Hunters in the basement, Shane included. Zane Donovan would make it five Hunters, but he was not an enemy. He would need to take care of himself and find his own escape route.
Before Hayden left the home, she needed to eliminate these Hunters. She refused to let them walk and harm others. Not when she could have prevented it.
A torrent of gunshots sounded and Hayden twirled away, barely escaping in time as bullets showered through the plastic. She realized the flames from the adjourning room would create a silhouette and she quickly remedied it by dodging into the darkness.
A man was there to greet her.
He fired and she dodged, firing her own gun.
Her bullet caught him in the neck and he went down hard. Hayden stepped over him silently, her senses open and aware of another Hunter shuffling nearby.
Reaching out, she tapped the plastic gently.
Impressively, the human heard it.
Where Hayden’s fingers had just occupied, a bullet punctured the plastic with deadly accuracy. Another one, not even centimeters from the first, rang out a moment later.
Hayden stayed motionless, her breathing shallow and still as she listened to the human on the other side of the plastic divider. The fire around Zane’s holding cell had smoldered into nothing but sparse flames, dying from the lack of flammable material.
Darkness and smoky fog cast across the basement.
The fog and smoke irritated Hayden’s hypersensitivity the most, whereas the darkness was the Hunters’ weakness. She held her breath to remedy her vulnerability, though the Hunters were at a disadvantage without light to aid them.
Her canine easily saw the shadowy figure on the other side of the divider.
Hayden raised her gun, pointing it at the Hunter.
Pausing, she considered.
A part of her protested at the inhumane kill, but that part of her easily succumbed to her canine side. Her pack was in danger. The Hunters would not hold her back any longer.
She pulled the trigger.
The gun clicked loudly, signifying it was out of bullets.
Horror washed her cold as the Hunter turned to her quickly, using his hearing as a sensor. His posture was poised and ready and the bullet would come tearing through the plastic and hit her.
As the gunshot sounded, Hayden flinched, jerking herself out of the way.
She fell to the ground, staring underneath the divider as the Hunter opposite of her dropped to the floor. Dead. Hayden exhaled shakily, realizing the man hadn’t shot her.
Someone had shot him first.
Scrambling to her feet, she ducked beneath a flap of plastic, staring at Zane Donovan. The man lowered his weapon, raising his eyebrows at her frazzled form. He opened his mouth, perhaps to gloat, perhaps to acknowledge her silent gratitude.
He abruptly snapped his mouth closed as Hayden’s throwing knife soared past his cheek. The blade was so close it probably cut off a few hairs of his uncontrollable beard.
Zane Donovan turned, startled as the body of the female Hunter dropped heavily to the ground. The woman had crept up behind him, her own gun leveled with the back of his head. Unfortunately for her, she hadn’t had the chance to pull the trigger before Hayden’s knife caught her in the chest.
Zane turned back around, his expression awestruck.
“We’re even,” Hayden stated firmly.
“That we are,” Zane muttered appreciatively, eyeing her with respect.
She walked past him, keeping her senses open in case there was another Hunter lingering in the heavily fogged basement. “Where is Shane?” she asked, yanking her knife out of the woman’s chest cavity.
The female Hunter, Alyssa, was still alive.
Just barely.
She stared up at Hayden with an emotion she knew all too well. Complete and utter hatred and the desire for one last defiant gesture. The woman struggled for oxygen as her fingers desperately groped for the gun just a hairbreadth out of reach.
Hayden stared listlessly before bending down and picking up the weapon.
“I’m here.”
Looking up, she watched as Shane announced his presence with his hands raised in surrender. His expression was a torment of emotion, the most prevalent: sorrow. Hayden found herself caring little for what Shane Donovan felt.
She lifted the gun and aimed at his forehead.
Quick and easy.
The human backpedaled sharply, his eyes widening. “Hayden!”
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “He’s ok. He’s with us.”
Hayden shook her head, disbelieving. “You put him in danger.” She kept her aim firm. “Nicolas could have died because you gave his location to Celeste.”
“But he didn’t die, did he?” Shane yelled, his cheeks flushed with anger. “You killed my father! I think we’re damn even, don’t you, Hayden?”
Zane stepped between Hayden and Shane.
“He’s been sticking his neck out and trying to gather as much information as possible against Celeste and the other Hunters. He’s been brave. Very brave,” Zane confirmed deeply. “Alone as well. He’s done a good job.”
“And yet, despite your good job, all the werewolves are still being annihilated.”
Shane shook his head. “Exactly. Which is why you should be out there not in here deliberating if you should kill a loyal friend.” His eyes softened and he took a steadying breath. “I couldn’t stop them by myself, Hayden. But I know enough to gather other Hunters and help beat Celeste.”
Hayden lowered her weapon.
She didn’t trust him, but he did bring up a valid point about wasting time here when she should be out there. Keeping hold of the gun, Hayden walked past Shane and grabbed her sword that he held by his side.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Just as you suggested. My pack.”
“We will gather reinforcements,” Zane spoke to her back. “You won’t be alone.”
Hayden didn’t turn around, simply because she had no faith that they’d be much help. So far, the downfall of the traditional werewolves was relying on others. Trusting others. She refused to give Zane’s promise much consideration or weight.
Striding from the basement, she jogged out into the clear night.
It was a bit ironic that the sky was so clear, the moon so bright, and the stars so brilliant. The gunfire still sounded, but it seemed distant. Muffled almost.
When the Hunters told her about the massacre, her imagination ran wild. She had pictured a sea of bodies greeting her with lifeless eyes. Bodies did not crowd the yards or the streets, but there was a very distinct smell of blood and silver in the air.
And an overwhelming odor of death.
Trembling, Hayden ducked out from behind the house, eyeing the open doors to neighboring homes. On several of the houses, there was a large crimson ‘x’ claiming the front door. She could only imagine what that signified.
It was an eerie and horrifying sight.
She imagined many of the Hunters took the werewolves by surprise tonight. After all, after so many weeks of rest and normalcy, the traditional wolves had lowered their guard.
Her attention instantly landed on her pack house.
The door was open, but no ‘x’ marked the entryway.
Like a coward, she wavered and remained crouched behind a naked tree. She’d faced this situation before, back when they stayed at the cabin with Celeste’s pack. That night, she’d been lucky. They had survived Celeste’s assault.
Could she be lucky twice?
Hayden looked around the proximity, seeing it empty.
She darted out from around the tree and sprinted across the open street. Her heart pounded as she climbed the porch steps and entered the familiar home.
“Blake?” she whispered into the emptiness.
/> Hayden adjusted her hold on her handgun, her fingers slick with sweat.
“Nicolas?” she ventured, the name pulling heavily at her chest.
God, she hoped he was ok. He had surrounded himself with Celeste’s men and the disloyal Hunters. With double the threat from each side, he would have a difficult time removing himself safely from the situation.
She tried not to dwell on him.
Nicolas proved repeatedly that he could take care of himself and prevail.
Hayden planted her feet in the middle of the living room. Tipping back her head, she inhaled deeply. Underneath the familiar scents of the pack, she could not detect any potent odors of blood or death.
They weren’t here. Just the ghost of their presence.
She stared through the large window at the expansive, snowy field. Behind her, in the streets, she could hear a desperate, horrified scream. Pleading sounded soon after before a gunshot permanently silenced the woman.
Her expression hardened into stone.
The living room window reflected her flinty, unemotional eyes back at her.
As an Alpha, as a warrior, she was obligated to go back and search the homes. Find survivors and help the wounded. Band together and take back the gated community from the Hunters.
However, she couldn’t even take a breath without smelling the iron scent of blood. The aroma of death was too strong, too overwhelming. Hayden knew if the werewolves lowered their guard as much as she assumed they had, Hunters with assault rifles would have eliminated a great majority.
Those who were alerted in time of the attack would have already run with their pack members. Hayden was fortunate enough that her pack had left.
No.
She wouldn’t go back and look for survivors.
With a heavy heart, Hayden exited the patio door and descended the snowy steps of the deck. Immediately, she noticed the trampled footprints leading to the field and out to the distant trees.
She would track down her pack first.
After regrouping, she would hunt down Celeste and her two Carriers.
* * * *
Rubbing her palms together, Hayden breathed fiercely on them, hoping to give her numb fingers some feeling. While her canine half kept her warm enough, it did not stop the damp chill deep within her bones.