"I want you to find this female for me."
Night looked carefully at the photo, then his yellow eyes flickered. "I know her. A few nights ago one of our people introduced her to me. She said she had recently arrived in town and was looking for a pack."
"She is a Barclay spy."
"They sent a female?"
Nereus' lips curved into a grin. "What better than a female to make a werewolf talk?"
"Must she be eliminated?"
"Oh no. I'll need her to deal with the Barclay alpha. Bring her to me."
---
"I have no value as a bargaining chip," Natalie said firmly, though she was well aware of the power radiating from the wolf in front of her.
"Would you rather I kill you now?"
Nat raised her chin and fixed her gaze on Nereus in a clear act of defiance.
He stood up, walked around the desk and approached her. His dark eyes travelled down her body. "Of course, it would be a great loss," he said close to her ear.
She forced herself to remain motionless, feeling even more the pressure of the rope tying her wrists behind her back.
Then the mobile phone rang and his gaze finally shifted away from her.
"We have found it. I want you to get everything ready for tonight."
When he ended the call, he turned to Night, who was silently waiting behind Natalie.
"Take her that way and put three wolves to guard her. We need to finish getting ready."
The man nodded and pushed Natalie out.
---
The dark BMW raced through the night. Christopher's eyes were on the road, but his mind was elsewhere.
Three hours earlier, he had received a letter from Nereus, summoning him to a meeting that very evening. He had taken Natalie and promised to release her only if Christopher came in person.
Right. "Talk." Christopher seriously doubted that was Nereus' real intent.
Still, it was his fault Natalie was in this situation, and he wouldn't back down.
He hadn't said a word to his mother. He had only spoken to Michael, even giving him the GPS coordinates that were attached to the letter. Michael had insisted on going with him, and it had taken effort to convince him to stay at Barclay House. In the end, Christopher had only managed it by pointing out that if both of them went, Nereus would gain the advantage of having both Barclay males in one place — perfect for a swift slaughter, leaving the pack without heirs.
He glanced over at Riley, who was focused on driving, and then checked the rearview mirror to see the car following them. There were six of them altogether. He didn't know if it would be enough to get them out alive, but he couldn't leave the house unguarded or call anyone back from Oldgrove. There wasn't time, and the meeting place was on the far side of town.
"We're almost there," Riley said.
"Good."
Christopher turned to see the following car slow down and turn into a pasture. His men would set up there as backup.
The BMW turned onto a narrow dirt road, stopping in front of a small stone building with a slanted roof. A black SUV was parked nearby. Slivers of light seeped through the closed shutters.
Before Christopher even got out of the car, the front door creaked open, revealing a still figure waiting.
Christopher walked toward the ruin with Riley close behind. The shadow didn't move until they were face-to-face, then stepped aside just enough to let them in.
The room, lit by two oil lamps, was bare except for a rickety wooden table on the packed dirt floor. A stocky man in a black suit stood beside it. Four deep scars ran across his left cheek, and the flickering light made them look like open trenches. The two Alphas recognized each other immediately.
"I see you didn't come alone," Nereus said.
"You didn't say I had to," Christopher replied.
A brief flash of fangs accompanied Nereus' smile. "I assume you want to see your female."
Without waiting for a reply, he gestured to the werewolf in the room, who left and returned moments later with Natalie.
"Are you all right?" Christopher asked.
She nodded — she couldn't speak through the gag in her mouth.
"Let her go, then we can talk calmly."
"I think we'll keep her with us. She's pleasant company."
Christopher clenched his jaw. "Then talk."
"Very well, Christopher Barclay. Straight to the point. I like that.
Let me be equally direct: your pack isn't large. Mine has grown significantly. I'm offering you a deal — join us. You'll remain Alpha of your pack and keep your territory."
"But under your rules?"
Nereus grinned. "Exactly."
"You want to wage war on humans!"
"No. I want to subjugate them — without them even noticing. Our kind is stronger. We always have been. There was a time humans feared us."
"And hunted us nearly to extinction!"
"Times have changed. Now we can take control through economy and power. No bloodshed required."
"Yet that's exactly what you've done."
"I needed soldiers. I couldn't wait for our kind to multiply naturally. We're not prolific. But I'll stop recruiting… if you join us."
"Our race has lived in peace with humans for centuries—"
"Hiding!" Nereus thundered. "Our kind should not hide! We are stronger. We live longer!"
"That doesn't give us the right to dominate other beings."
"Not even if they're inferior?"
"I've never seen humans as inferior."
"I take it, then, you won't be joining our cause."
"Did you really think you could convince me?"
Nereus bared his teeth in a smile. "I wanted to give you the chance to choose — life or death."
"That's not your decision to make."
"Oh, but it is. In fact, I've already made it."
He nodded to a man standing in the corner. The door swung open, and another werewolf entered — dragging the lifeless body of one of Christopher's men.
"The other two are dead as well," Nereus said. "You underestimated me. Kill them!"
Gunfire erupted inside the tiny cabin.
Christopher rolled to the side and drew his Glock. He fired — one of Nereus' men collapsed, dead.
His eyes searched frantically for Riley and Natalie.
Riley was down. Natalie was being used by Nereus as a human shield. Bastard!
Christopher flipped the table and ducked behind it for cover. Bullets zipped past. One punched through the wood, grazed his shoulder, and struck the wall.
Then the door slammed open, and Lucian burst in, taking out the last of Nereus' wolves.
"Let her go!" Christopher ordered, standing and aiming his gun at Nereus.
Shots rang out from outside.
Distracted, Nereus elbowed open the window behind him and shoved Natalie toward Christopher before slipping out into the night.
Chris caught her in his arms just as Lucian ran after Nereus.
"Hide!" Christopher said, quickly untying her wrists, then bolted outside.
Gunshots followed. Then the screech of tires on gravel.
Lucian stood clutching his left shoulder with his right hand. "He got away," he growled.
Chris was instantly at his side. The scent of blood hit his nose.
He pulled off his jacket and shirt, pressing the latter into Lucian's hand. "Hold this tight."
He looked around at the bodies. "What about the others?"
"Rick and Adam are dead."
Christopher knelt beside one of the shapes. "Kyle too," he confirmed, checking for a pulse.
Back inside, he found Riley — also dead.
He turned to Natalie. "We're going back to Barclay House."
Once in the car, Christopher grabbed his phone. He hit speed dial for Michael. It rang endlessly. No answer.
"Shit!" he snarled, glancing briefly at the road while dialing his mother's number.
As he waited, he checked the rearview mirror. Lucian met his gaze — his blue eyes were sharp and cold, his bloody hand pressing the makeshift bandage to his wound. Natalie stared blankly out the window, her hands clenched in her lap, her body rigid.
The failed call tone drew his attention.
"Damn it!" he muttered under his breath.
The fact that even his mother wasn't answering… was not a good sign.
He dialed the number of one of the werewolves responsible for the estate's security — and slammed his foot down on the gas.
---
The time had come to leave. She was feeling better now — not back to full strength, but well enough.
She glanced into her bag: two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, her swords… She reached for the dagger and pulled it from its sheath. It was still stained with blood — the blood of those wolves.
Her gaze travelled down the length of the blade to the ideograms etched into the metal, the ones that defined the name she used in combat: Hu, Tiger. That was her sign according to the Chinese zodiac. She didn't believe in such things, but she liked the description for those born under that sign: independent, cold, stubborn — and the females "particularly aggressive."
Well, those traits suited her perfectly. That's why she had adopted both the name and the animal as her personal totem. The ideograms were engraved on every blade she owned.
She slid the dagger back into its sheath.
Rummaging through the few clothes she had, she found her wallet. It had been kind of them to recover it. Her documents were still inside, along with a single twenty-pound note.
Okay. That was going to be a problem. Money, in general, was a problem.
She had no plans to change cities or identities. She couldn't afford new papers… In London, she'd have to get by somehow, at least for the first few days. She'd withdraw some cash in the nearest town before disappearing again. The fewer traces she left, the lower the chances that anyone — including Michael — would be able to find her.
Michael.
A sharp pang hit her chest at the thought of him, of the time they'd spent together. His eyes, his smile… the memory of his gentle touch.
Why did the thought of never seeing him again hurt so much?
She shook her head to drive those thoughts away, forcing herself to ignore what she was feeling.
Michael had been a pleasant distraction, but she had always known it wouldn't last.
They knew each other too well by now to enjoy one last carefree night of sex — and since any kind of emotional attachment was out of the question, leaving was the only option.
Running away, a little voice in her head whispered.
But she wasn't running away... she was... she was changing business ventures!
She froze.
She was running.
Running away from Michael because she was getting too attached.
The realization unsettled her. A wave of nausea rose up in her throat, and suddenly the room felt too small, too hot.
She quickly pulled on a clean pair of trousers, a T-shirt and a jumper.
Her jacket had been lost — a real problem, especially on a motorbike. She'd need to replace it as soon as possible.
She zipped up her bag and looked around the room to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything. Everything was in order.
The note she'd written for Michael sat clearly on a pillow on the bed. Just a few words, simple and final:
Thank you. Goodbye.
She slung the bag over her shoulder and opened the door.
The house was dark and silent. Everyone was probably asleep.
She was about to step down the stairs when movement in the corner of her eye made her freeze.
She thought she'd seen a shadow move downstairs.
Narrowing her eyes, she tried to make out the shapes in the moonlight streaming in through the large windows.
A shadow stretched across the carpet, moving diagonally where the light fell.
Alex stood perfectly still, waiting for it to pass.
But something about the figure's movements raised her suspicion.
It moved as silently as she did — too silently.
Had someone broken in?
As she considered her next move, another figure crossed the hallway below without a sound.
Alex drew back, pressing herself against the wall.
Something was definitely wrong.
Her eyes darted to Michael's bedroom door.
She had to warn him.
She opened the door — but found the room empty.
No sign of him.
There was no sound from the adjoining bathroom either.
Damn it.
He had to be downstairs.
Alex set the bag down and drew her dagger.
She freed the blade from its sheath and left the scabbard behind, then began descending the stairs — eyes locked on the floor below.
---
He didn't know what had woken him, but it took him a few seconds to realise where he was: Christopher's study.
Michael squinted. His head felt heavy, and he was thirsty. He looked around the room, but all he could see was the half-full glass of whisky he had left on the small table next to the armchair he'd fallen asleep in.
What time was it?
He glanced at his watch. Two o'clock.
He stood up, still slightly dazed. He must have passed out from sheer exhaustion.
He searched his pockets for his phone. No messages. No calls from Christopher.
With a determined step, he walked toward the door — but froze with his hand on the handle.
A strange smell tingled in his nostrils.
It took him a moment to recognise it: something was burning.
Michael threw the door open and swept his gaze down the long hallway.
No flames in sight.
He closed his eyes and focused on his sense of smell — but that only confused him further.
The smoke seemed to be coming from several places at once.
How was that possible?
He moved quickly toward the library and pushed the door wide open. The light was on, and the arm of someone sitting in the armchair — the one with its back to the door — was visible.
"Mother?" Michael stepped into the room… but something moved behind him.
Instinct kicked in. He spun and stepped aside.
A blade slashed through the air — narrowly missing him.
A man — a werewolf — stood in front of him, dressed in dark clothes, dagger in hand. His mouth opened in a low growl, fangs bared.
Before Michael could even get a good look at him, the attacker lunged.
The blade tore through his shirt, grazing the skin.
Michael jumped back and grabbed the lamp from the table behind him. He tore off the lampshade and used the wooden base to deflect the next blow.
With a swift kick, he knocked the attacker off balance and brought him down.
He pinned the werewolf to the floor, pressing his arm against the man's throat.
"Who are you?"
The only answer was a sneer.
"Who sent you?" he demanded, applying more pressure.
The man squirmed, trying to escape, but Michael didn't ease up.
A loud crash from somewhere else in the house made him raise his head.
He grabbed the werewolf by the neck and slammed him against the wall. The man slid down and collapsed in a heap — motionless.
Michael didn't stop to check if he was still breathing.
He bolted toward the source of the voices and noise.
When he reached the main hall, he saw Alex locked in combat with another werewolf.
Both were armed with daggers, blades flashing whenever the moonlight caught them.
The werewolf was wounded — Michael could smell the feral tang of his blood despite the smoke.
A quick move — and Alex's dagger sliced through the man's thigh.
A heartbeat later, the werewolf was on the ground, with her blade pressed to his throat.
Michael reached them.
"There are more," Alex said, eyes still fixed on her opponent.
"One's down," Michael replied, then turned to the fallen werewolf.
"Nereus sent you, didn't he? What happened to my brother?"
The man looked up at him.
"He's probably dead by now."
Then he grinned, baring bloodied teeth.
"Bastard!"
Michael grabbed him by the shirt and hurled him across the room.
He could feel his fangs pushing against his lips.
"We have to find the others and get out of here! The house is on fire!"
As if on cue, a dense cloud of smoke began to seep in under the east drawing room door.
Alex nodded, and Michael turned back toward the library to get Eleanor.
But when he reached the armchair, he stopped short.
Eleanor's head was tilted to one side, her throat torn open. Blood had soaked through her cream blouse and the string of pearls around her neck.
Alex came up behind him. The moment she saw the body, she placed a hand on his arm.
Michael stood still, staring at the lifeless blue eyes of his mother.
There would be no more time to talk. No chance for forgiveness or understanding.
"We have to go," Alex said, snapping him out of it.
He nodded, slowly, then bent down and gathered his mother's body into his arms.
He turned toward the corridor.
"Oh my God!"
Sabrina froze, then stumbled forward and nearly crashed into him.
She covered her mouth with both hands when she saw what he was carrying.
"What happened?" she whispered.
"They killed her," Michael replied flatly.
"The house is burning! We need to get out!"
He nodded again and broke into a run, Alex right beside him, dagger gripped tightly as she scanned the smoke that now filled the hallway.
A scream behind them made them stop.
Sabrina was on the floor.
Michael gently laid his mother's body on the carpet and hurried back.
"Are you okay?" he asked, helping her to her feet.
"Yes," she said — and then he felt it.
The blade pierced his side.
His eyes widened as he looked down at the hilt of the dagger… then up at Sabrina's face.
It was twisted into a wicked grin.
"You've interfered with Nereus's plans for far too long," she hissed.
---
Alex saw Michael crouch beside Sabrina to help her — and moments later, collapse to the ground. She didn't understand what was happening. In two strides, she reached them just as the other woman rose to her feet.
"You filthy human! You'll regret getting in my way!"
Alex froze, staring at her like she was possessed. Her eyes darted to Michael — he was slumped on one side, a dagger embedded in his flank. Her gaze snapped back to Sabrina. She tightened her grip on her own dagger, legs bent and ready to spring.
Then, right before her eyes, the woman began tearing her clothes off.
Alex stared, thinking she'd truly gone mad — until Sabrina's body buckled in on itself, bones contorting, her face elongating into a sharp muzzle, her smooth skin swallowed by a thick coat of tawny fur.
Alex stood there wide-eyed, watching the transformation, wondering if she wasn't the one losing her mind.
Now a wolf stood in front of her, watching her with something disturbingly close to a smirk on its snout.
Okay, the smoke got to my brain…
But she didn't have time to think anything else — the wolf lunged.
Alex managed to dodge the assault and forced herself to focus. She adjusted her grip on the dagger and placed herself between Michael and the beast, praying he was still breathing.
Sabrina didn't wait. She stalked toward her, growling low, then snapped her jaws toward Alex's leg.
Alex struck with the dagger — and missed.
The two began to circle, sizing each other up, until the wolf suddenly leapt, rising on its hind legs.
It was too fast. Alex couldn't get out of the way. The wolf's jaws clamped down on her left arm.
The pain hit her brain like a lightning strike.
She clenched her eyes shut, jaw locked, and plunged the blade blindly.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw she had hit the beast just above the left shoulder — but it didn't release her.
With its weight, the wolf threw her off balance and slammed her to the ground.
Locked in a deadly embrace, the she-wolf snapped at Alex's throat and face, while Alex shielded herself with her wounded arm.
With her right hand, she tried to pull the dagger free — but it was stuck fast in the joint.
Unable to retrieve it, she reached up with her free hand, trying to grab the beast by the neck and push it away.
She could feel its hot breath on her face. Its fangs brushed her skin.
Then the wolf let out a sharp gasp. Its eyes widened — and it collapsed on top of her.
Alex looked up and saw the blade of a dagger protruding from the wolf's back.
Michael stood behind it, one hand pressed to his injured side.
He bent down and pulled the beast off her.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
Alex nodded and got to her feet, her eyes on his chest.
He followed her gaze and touched his ribs.
"It'll pass," he said.
She nodded again, then moved to support him. Together, they staggered out of the burning villa.
They walked a few steps, then dropped to the ground, coughing, gasping for air.
Michael closed his eyes, trying to fill his lungs.
Then he felt pressure on his wound. He looked down — Alex was pressing a torn sleeve from her shirt against the bleeding gash.
His hand reached for hers, but she pulled away the instant their skin touched.
She threw the jumper she'd taken off over her shoulders.
"What was that?" she asked. Her voice was hoarse from the smoke, but steady.
Michael looked at her, at a loss for words.
"What was that?" she repeated, voice sharper now, her eyes locked onto his.
He held her gaze for a long moment, searching her eyes for some glimmer of understanding. He knew he couldn't lie to her anymore.
He got to his feet, keeping the distance she had placed between them.
"A werewolf," he said finally, in a resigned tone. "Sabrina was a werewolf."
Then he waited.
Alex's eyes searched him, trying to reach the depth of his soul.
"You… you knew."
He nodded.
"And so are you."
It wasn't a question. The images of him transforming from wolf to man were all too clear in her mind now.
He nodded again — and she read the pain and fear on his face.
"Why did you lie to me?"
"You wouldn't have believed me."
"You couldn't be sure! You should have at least tried!"
"I was afraid you'd think I was crazy… or a monster."
His last words were barely a whisper, but he didn't look away. He studied her every reaction.
Alex turned her gaze toward the burning house. Suddenly, she felt exhausted.
Michael stood silent. Then his eyes landed on her arm.
"Shit!" he said, rushing toward her.
He took her arm, gently peeling back the remains of her sleeve. Her forearm was torn open in several places — deep, ragged wounds from Sabrina's fangs.
Poisoned fangs.
Fangs that would turn her into a werewolf if she didn't receive the antidote in time.
Alex watched him work, not fully present. She felt a strange tingling, but the pain wasn't overwhelming.
The sound of a car tearing down the driveway caught their attention.
Two headlights blinded them. Shielding their eyes, they stood quickly as three people jumped out and ran toward them.
"Michael!" Christopher reached him and pulled him into a hug. "The fire's visible from the highway!"
Then he pulled back and studied his brother.
"You're hurt," he said, eyes falling to the dark stain on Michael's shirt.
"It's nothing. I'm already healing."
Christopher looked around.
"Where are the others?"
"I think… they're all dead."
Christopher paled.
"Our mother… Sabrina…"
Michael placed his hands on his brother's shoulders.
"It was Sabrina. She betrayed us. She tried to kill me… I think she killed our mother. She let Nereus's men into the estate."
Christopher stumbled back as if punched in the gut.
"That's not possible…" he whispered, hoping for a different truth.
"I'm sorry," Michael said quietly.
Natalie, who had stayed a few steps behind, stepped forward.
"We have to go. There might be more on the way."
Christopher nodded, still dazed.
"Everyone in the car."
He turned and climbed into the driver's seat.
Lucian was the last to arrive. He jumped in.
"I freed the horses," he said.
Christopher nodded. "Thanks," and slammed the accelerator.
"We need to get to Fredrik's. Sabrina bit Alex."
"Fuck!"
The exclamation came from everyone at once — and all eyes turned to Alex.
Great. I'm screwed. Again, Alex thought.
A fire spread from her arm through her whole body. It wasn't visible — not yet — but she could feel it with every nerve.
Her brain and all her senses were zeroed in on that burning pain.
She curled into the backseat, trying to contain the flames.
"What's happening to me?" she asked through clenched teeth.
Michael reached out to touch her shoulder — but she growled, and he pulled away at once.
Where his fingers had touched her, her skin sparked like fire.
"Fredrik will give you an antidote," he said. "You'll be okay."
A question came back to her, flashing like an alarm: fangs or claws?
Michael had asked her that when she'd been wounded in her flat.
Back then, it had been claws — and he'd seemed relieved.
This time, it had been fangs.
What did that mean?
She lifted her head with effort and looked at Michael.
"Am I dying… or am I turning?"
In books and films, the bite of a werewolf meant transformation.
She would have shuddered if she weren't already trembling with pain.
"You'd become like us," he said at last. "But it won't happen. The antidote will stop the process."
"I don't want to kill people," Alex whispered.
Her mind was slipping away.
"We don't kill people," Michael said gently.
"Good."