The tunnels and the old cellar were ideal. A perfect training ground. To preserve the property’s history, the iron loops remained embedded in the stone walls. She would learn gratitude when she earned the right to a glimpse of sunlight.
I left the house and tunnel floor plans spread across my desk. Each day grew more exhilarating than the last.
Killing her without understanding what lived inside her would be foolish. There was no other half-god wolf in existence. That distinction belonged to us alone.
She was a puzzle.
And we would unlock her—then contain her.
She might be a survivor, but so were we.
???
I checked the little red dot on my phone. It blinked her location. A false emergency for her colleague meant she was alone in the office.
“Drive,” I said and sat back in the leather seat.
Fenrir quivered. Not in fear but anticipation. The type he had when we had live prey. When we gave them a glimmer of hope and told them to run.
I texted the man on standby for the next phase.
Me: Deliver her coffee.
It was from the same shop they always frequented—one they trusted. Routine and ritual were something I knew. It was comforting.
I messaged the man on the inside at the docks.
Me: Is my shipping container ready and the paperwork complete?
Both replied.
I slipped my phone into my pocket to enjoy the sight of the city. My hunting ground for the weak.
Soon, everything would go back to normal.
Business as usual.
???
The car door opened, and I stepped out, straightening my jacket before entering the rear of her office building. We could smell her before we even reached the stairs. Soon, that scent would be locked away from everyone but us.
“Wait here,” I told the guards as I approached her office door.
The gold plaque beside it almost made me smile.
Her Glow.
The polished wooden door had two narrow glass panels. I pressed the handle down and peered inside. No one was visible.
I stepped in and went straight to her office.
She lay slumped over her desk.
The room was saturated with her scent. It infuriated me that she didn’t stink like the rest of them.
She wore a deep, dark purple blouse.
I touched her shoulders and pulled her back. The silkiness of the fabric nearly made me withdraw my hands—but as I bent closer, her pulse beat slow and steady at her jugular. I inhaled carefully.
