The Rogue Wolf

Nisha Hunt's POV

Fort Worth, Texas

I adjusted the deep purple dress I was wearing, pulling the deep neckline down a little farther as I stared at the cards on the table. The private game had been going on for six hours, and it was now almost two in the morning. My five-thousand-dollar buy-in to the twenty-person game meant that my stack of chips was nearly seventy-five thousand dollars by now.

"Last hand, by rule we close at two," the dealer said.

"I'm not done yet," Donnie said. He was a typical Dallas oil brat, playing with his Daddy's money in an attempt to prove he was worth something. He was a good player; he knew the odds and his face betrayed nothing, ever. We had been at different tables, knocking others out, until forty minutes ago when we were both put together at the last table. Now we were the only two left.

I had the Ace of Clubs and Five of Diamonds in my hole cards, and the bet was up to twenty thousand. The common cards were the Ace of Hearts, Five of Spades and the river was the Two of Clubs. I was listening carefully to his heartbeat as the last card was flipped, it skipped a beat. He'd never betray it with his expression, but he couldn't control his heart. When he had a good turn, it would speed up a little. Werewolf hearing had its uses, I thought, and so did a she-wolf's body.

I ran a finger from my chin down my neck as he fingered his chips. I was blonde, but I was no bombshell; I trained hard, my bodyfat was very low and my muscles were well defined. It meant I didn't have a huge rack, but what I had was displayed well by the dress I chose. In poker, you take any advantage you can get.

"Raise you ten thousand," I said as my hand moved to the table. I moved a stack of chips to the center. I didn't need to clean him out, it was better for me to let him think he had a chance so I could wrangle an invitation to another game. If he got out now, he would walk away with a little more than twice his buy-in. It would not be a bad night for him.

He tapped the table with the chips. "You're bluffing," he said.

"It will cost you all but two thousand, four hundred dollars to find out," I replied. "I know you don't want to walk away from the table, but that's the smart play right now. You don't have the balls to bluff me, Donnie." I picked up my drink, Two Gingers whiskey on the rocks, and took a sip. He watched me like a predator as my tongue circled the ice cube before pushing it back into the glass.

"Call." He pushed the chips to the center, then flipped over his cards. Ace of Hearts, Three of Clubs.

"You should have walked away." I flipped over my cards, two pair would have beaten anything unless he had a pocket pair in one of the common cards. I pulled the chips in as he got up, cursing himself as the small crowd exploded into cheers. About half of the players had stuck around, drinking and socializing until last call. "Cash me out, Charlie."

"Of course, Miss King." In my card-playing persona, I was Ashley King, a twenty-one-year-old college student from Stanford. My real name, Nisha Hunt, age twenty, was a secret as well guarded as my werewolf. I had paid a lot of money to build up my new identity, keeping me off the radar of the government and the Werewolf Council.

I followed him to the bar, where he handed me the backpack I had given him on arrival. I put a couple of hundred-dollar bills in his hand. "I've got a bad feeling," I said. "Get these guys out of here and when I come out, sneak me out the back."

"No problem at all, Miss King." He counted out the cash, withholding the 10% fee for running the game, and handed me the almost $88,000 in cash and an envelope. I counted it out, then sealed it in the envelope and put it in my bag. "I'll have Security keep an eye on the door."

"Thank you," I said. I walked across the room, accepting congratulations from the departing players until I reached the ladies room. I opened the door and locked it behind me. I unzipped the dress and stepped out of it, folding it and leaving it on the sink. I used the bathroom, then pulled on skinny jeans, an Imagine Dragons concert shirt which hung loose below my belt, and calf-high boots. I made sure my throwing knives were secured in the sides of my boots, and my Smith and Wesson M&P Shield sat secure in its inside the waistband, cross-draw holster to the right of my belt buckle. The eight bullets it carried were hollowpoints modified with pure silver in the center, designed to be effective against human or werewolf targets.

It just wasn't safe being a lone werewolf, especially as a young female.

I listened through the door as Charlie pushed the last players out the door. A few moments later, there was a knock. "Ready for you, Miss King."

I unlocked the door, my left hand staying near my belt buckle. High-stakes games like this were illegal, and could attract characters who weren't good losers, or just smelled an opportunity. Winning the money was important, keeping it was more important. Charlie stood there, his bouncer by his side. "I'll take you as far as the back entrance, and Carl here can escort you to your vehicle if you wish."

"Thank you, Charlie. It's been a pleasure." We went through the kitchen to the freight elevator, taking it to the ground floor. From there, he checked the cameras to make sure no one was waiting before he opened the back door. "You have my number, you'll message me with the next game?"

"Of course, Miss King. You brought a little class to tonight's game." He opened the door and I let Carl go first; when he turned back to me, I walked out and the door closed behind me.

"I'm parked a block over, on Waverly by the pawn shop," I said. I never parked my ride next to the game, preferring to keep my mode of transportation out of sight. If I was really paranoid, I'd park a half-mile away and take an Uber to the game. I followed just behind him, letting my senses out in the quiet of the August night. The scents of the city were all around, but nothing was threatening.

When I got to my baby, a metallic-purple Harley-Davidson Softail Deluxe with matching hard cargo bags, I relaxed. The 1200-cc engine was plenty powerful, and the low ride made it easier for me to control with my five-foot-six, one hundred and twenty-pound frame. It had a full fairing and windshield, making it comfortable for the long rides I had between towns. "Thanks, Carl," I said as I passed him a hundred. I took out the keys and unlocked the driver's side compartment, removing my leather jacket and pushing my backpack down in its place. Firing it up, I drove off into the night.

I drove through the crappy part of town towards the hotel I was staying at. I could afford better, but nicer hotels copied driver's licenses and needed credit card deposits. The fleabags I was crashing at would look the other way for cash. I made my way to the room on the third floor, latching it behind me and wedging a chair against the handle just in case.

I tossed my bag on the bed, taking the money out and putting it in my inside jacket pocket. I grabbed the bottle of whiskey I'd bought the previous night and opened the door to the small deck overlooking what used to be a nice pool, and now was an algae-infested eyesore. Leaning against the railing, I took a swig as I tried to relax from the excitement of the game.

"Take it, bitch," I heard from the next floor up. "I paid extra so I could do whatever I wanted to you, and I want you to scream for me as I take your ass."

Jesus. What an asshole! It wouldn't be the first time I'd been placed near a hotel room being used for prostitution.

"I'll be good for you, you're such a big and strong man," the woman's voice said, and I froze. "Fuck my ass harder, Daddy."

I recognized that voice.

It couldn't be.

Not after almost four years of my sister being missing, the search futile, the Packs no help in finding her.

Running back inside, I knocked the chair aside and moved the bar and the chain before flinging the door open. Going to the stairwell, I went up to the fourth floor and stalked towards the room. I could smell her; it WAS her, it was different but still the same, like her wolfy-ness was gone, the scent she had before her first shift.

I was going to fucking kill them all.

"Hey, Miss, this is a private floor," a guy said as I moved past a room. He was a big guy, maybe six foot and over three hundred pounds. I could hear and smell the sex in the other rooms, and realization hit me like a brick. They had turned this whole floor into a prostitution racket, and this guy was the gatekeeper. A fat woman behind him was counting cash, she was probably the Madam.

I thought quickly. "STEVE! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, I'M GONNA CUT YOUR BALLS OFF," I said as I moved past him.

"You can't be on this floor, Miss."

"My fucking boyfriend is in here, I saw him come in! Now leave me alone, if he's with another woman he's fucking dead." I pulled loose of his arm, running down the hall with him trying to keep up.

"STOP," he yelled as I got to the door above mine. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. "I told you, you aren't allowed up here, now turn around and get out of here before I put that tight ass of yours to work here too."

I turned and started walking back his way. "FINE. But all his shit is going to be in the yard when he comes home." I let the claws on my right hand start to come out, keeping them out of sight. He moved to the side to let me by, and as he turned the pistol pointed away from me. I spun and grabbed his neck, letting my claws puncture deep before ripping his throat out.

He dropped the gun, his hand reaching for mine. He was already dead, but his mind didn't realize it yet. Blood sprayed everywhere, the bright red painting the wall that I held him against. I followed him to the ground as his eyes glazed over and his knees gave out and he died.

I sometimes had to go places I didn't want to leave prints, so I was ready for this. I wiped his blood off on his shirt, then pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a pocket in my jacket. Taking his pistol, I walked back to the room and kicked the door open.

"HEY WHO THE FUCK" Bang.

His brains splattered against the wall on the other side of the bed. I didn't care who he was, I wasn't going to let him take another breath. He toppled off the bed, leaving a screaming naked woman behind. "Niesha, get dressed, we're getting out of here," I said as I walked over to check he was dead.

"Nisha?" She looked at me like I was a ghost.

"Hi, sis," I said as I hugged her. "Clothes, now, we've gotta bounce here. Someone is going to report the gunshot."

She got to her feet and pulled the minidress over her head, then put on a pair of silver hooker heels. "How?"

"Later," I said. She wasn't walking well, so I put my left arm around her and led her out of the room. The fat woman was leaning over the dead guy, trying to wake him up. I shot her between the eyes as she looked my way.

We moved past them in the hall, Niesha was crying and holding her face to my shoulder. One of the doors opened and a man wearing boxers and a Marlboro hat looked out, and I shot him too. When we got to the doorway, I made sure no one else was looking, then tossed the gun down the hallway and peeled off my gloves.

"We've got to get back to my room," I said.

"No, we have to get out of here now!"

I opened the door on my floor. "Trust me, the cops will be here any second and leaving now will just attract attention." I opened the door to my room and pulled her inside, locking it behind us. "Take a shower, NOW," I said as I pushed her to the bathroom. I took the gloves and flushed them down the toilet, then pulled off my clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. While she got in the shower, I scrubbed the blood off my arms and face, then my leather jacket. I took her clothes with mine, putting them in a garbage bag in my backpack. I left her a pair of nylon shorts and a T-shirt on the counter, then joined her in the shower.

I could hear the cops upstairs, the banging doors and screaming girls and the protests of the johns who were being arrested, but mostly I heard my sister's agony.

She was a mess, sitting in the tub and holding her arms tight to her body as the sobs escaped. I pulled her to her feet and hugged her tightly. "You came," she said. "I'd given up."

"I never gave up on you," I said. We held each other as the rusty water sprayed down on us.

Niesha was a mess.

I shuddered with rage as I helped clean her in the shower. Bruises, scars, needle tracks, she had it all. She'd been whipped before, and I couldn't feel or smell her wolf and I couldn't link her.

It was no wonder I had felt the bond break, they killed her wolf.

I finished washing her, then quickly finished my shower before toweling us both dry. I pulled the shirt and shorts over her thin body, she was eighteen years old and at least twenty pounds underweight. She could barely stay awake as I finished with her, so I tucked her into bed. She was deep asleep by the time I had her covered up. I had just put on underwear and a shirt from my backpack when there was a knock on the door. "POLICE," the voice said.

"Just a minute," I said, trying to sound sleepy. I put the shorts I had grabbed back in the backpack and set it on the floor by the bed. I padded over the filthy carpet to the door and opened it as far as the chain would allow. A uniformed officer was standing there, and I could hear others knocking on doors farther down. "What do you want, officer?"

"May I come in?"

"Why?"

"There was a shooting upstairs, and we're canvassing guests to see if you can help us find the killer."

There was no point in saying no, so I moved the door closed and moved back the chain. "Just keep it down, my sister is still asleep, she got a little drunk last night." I tugged the shirt down to cover my ass as I moved aside.

He nodded, leaving the door open slightly. "Were you here between the hours of two-thirty and three this morning?"

"We got back here about one thirty. My sister didn't feel good, she threw up twice and by the time I got her cleaned up and in bed it was maybe two? I don't know. I took a long shower and went to bed."

"Did you hear anything? Gunshots? Yelling?"

I shook my head no. "People are yelling all the time in this place, I just turn up my music a little more."

He looked past me to where my sister's hair spilled over the pillow. "She was asleep by two?"

"Yeah. She wouldn't wake up if a bomb went off in the room."

He nodded and handed me a card. "This hotel is an active crime scene, it's being shut down. If you see the Community Service Officer downstairs in the lobby, she'll give you a voucher for another hotel. You need to leave now, Ma'am."

"We're being kicked out?"

"Yes Ma'am. I'm sorry about the inconvenience but there were multiple murders in the building that are being investigated. If you remember anything that can help us out, give us a call."

"I will. Thank you." I closed the door behind him and let out a deep breath. We had to get out of here, and with the hotel closing, it was the right time to go. I needed help and my nomadic existence wouldn't work for me now that I had my sister back. I needed a place to stay, somewhere I could get her the help she needed.

I went to my backpack and grabbed a phone, dialing the one person I knew I could count on. "Jarrod, it's Nisha. I found my sister, and I need your help."

"That's bloody good news," the low and cultured voice said. "I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement again. What do you need?"

"She's been abused, badly, and may be addicted to drugs they gave her. She's going to need support for detox, counseling, everything."

"How bad is she?"

"Barely functioning. I found her in a cheap motel being pimped out by a scumbag, Luna only knows how long they've been doing this to her. Her wolf is gone, Jarrod, they must have killed it."

"Bloody hell. Where are you?"

"Fort Worth, but I'll be moving soon. Cops are crawling everywhere, and I can't withstand any scrutiny."

"You can come to the Coven. I'll take care of everything, Nisha, and I'll make sure she's cared for."

It was like a weight off my shoulders. Jarrod was a man of his word, over a thousand years old and raised in a time when your word was bond. If he said he would care for her, she would be. "I know you will, Jarrod. I owe you for this, and I always make things right."

"You're one of the few wolves who does, that's why I like working with you. Those Pack mutts have no honor in their dealings with my kind. You, on the other hand, have always delivered what you bargained." Vampires and werewolves have had a shaky peace over the past century, and both sides would push the envelope of acceptable behavior. Peace didn't mean the absence of conflict, it was just driven underground and not talked about. Three times she had killed werewolves to settle accounts for Jarrod without the Vampire Master having his fingerprints on it, and three times the Vampires had saved her.

I was intimately aware of the failings of the Alphas and the Werewolf Council. They had forced me to become a Lone Wolf, always at the edges of society, always one stupid move away from a painful death at their hands. Working with the Coven had sealed my fate, that was unforgivable in their eyes. The last I had heard, the bounty for the Alpha Killer was over two million dollars dead, four million alive. Werewolves would pay a lot extra for the show of torturing me to death. "Whatever she needs, she gets. I've got money now."

He laughed. "Child, your money is the last of the things I would need from you. Sunrise is in an hour, and I have a few things to prepare before then. Are you planning to stay as well?"

"For a while at least. I need to know what happened to her and who is responsible, then I'll need to leave for a while." The thought of their blood in my teeth made my wolf come forward, she was unforgiving when it came to her family. "I'm on my motorcycle. We will be there sometime in the afternoon. I don't know how well Niesha will travel, and I need to maintain a wide berth from the Packs in the area."

"Take all the time you need to avoid them, you're useless to me dead. My familiars will be expecting you, and your room will be ready."

"Thank you, Jarrod."

"Good night, Nisha. I'll see you at sunset."

He hung up and I put the phone by the bed while I packed, which took all of two minutes. I traveled light, and the clothes that weren't soaked in blood we were wearing. I pulled on my spare jeans and a fleece pullover, then socks and boots. Waking a reluctant Niesha, I put her in socks, cargo shorts and pulled a second T-shirt over her sleep one before giving her the jacket. I was a werewolf, I'd be warmer than she would, and I had jeans on. We'd stop as soon as we could to get something better.

"Where are we going," Niesha asked, still a little groggy.

"To stay with some people that I know in New Orleans," I said.

"Where are we now?"

"Fort Worth." She didn't register any reaction to it, but it was clear she had no understanding of where she was. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said as she stood up. "They would transport us in cargo vans, we were never told where we were. You'd be collected from one hotel room and sleep on the way to the next one."

I put her in my running shoes and looked her over, it would have to do for now. "We're going to leave on my motorcycle." Her eyes got big. "I don't want you to look at anyone or say anything, just stay at my side and follow my lead, all right?"

"Yes," she said weakly. I grabbed the backpack, which had the bag of bloody clothes in it, and we walked out of the room into the hallway. We turned for the stairwell, walking away from the officer who was talking to someone near the elevator. We went down the stairs, keeping our heads down, and instead of heading to the lobby we exited the side door. My motorcycle was parked in the back of the lot, and I quickly put the backpack into it. "Climb on behind me, put your arms around me and your feet on the pegs," I said. She climbed on, her thin arms wrapping around my waist and her head resting on my shoulder.

"Am I really free, Nisha?"

"Yes, sis. You're free and every one of those bastards who did this to you will pay with their lives." I fired up the Harley and pulled out of the lot; it was four-thirty in the morning, and we still had an hour or so of darkness left. I headed for the freeway, knowing there was a 24-hour Wal-Mart at the exit.

By the time the sun rose, we had gotten clothes appropriate for the road, and we were sitting in a booth at a pancake place. I ate my normal amount, which was a lot, while Niesha struggled to finish two pancakes and a piece of bacon. "Niesha, I hate to ask you, but I need to know." She nodded, afraid to look at me. "What happened the day you ran off?"

"I didn't run," she said. "I was given away by Ryan Minsi. He held something over my mouth, I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was locked in a room with a collar and chain."

Ryan Minsi, my father's trusted Beta male, the one who I looked to like a second father. The one who took over the Pack when my parents died.

The one I'd take pleasure in killing, slowly.

Special Agent Ranmo Smith's POV

I rolled over in bed, my hand searching for the cellphone that had ruined my night. Picking it up, I caught the time on the charging station and radio; three thirty-two. It was the duty officer at the FBI Dallas field office. "Smith," I said groggily.

"Wake up, Ranmo, time to work."

"What's going on."

"Fort Worth police are investigating a quadruple-homicide at the Kirk Street Budget Inn," he said. "Two of the dead are subjects of your investigation into human trafficking, and they've got a dozen women, some as young as thirteen, who were being pimped out by them."

"Fuck. Give me the address."

"I'll text it to you. Martinez wants a full-court press on this, she wants the ring taken down before they can disappear again." Rosalie Martinez was the Senior-Agent-In-Charge of the human trafficking group at the Dallas field office, and his direct supervisor. "Get out there as soon as you can."

"I'm moving." I got up and turned on the light, illuminating the bare shoulders and neck of the woman I'd picked up at the bar last night. Like most humans, she was fun, but I couldn't let my wolf loose with her. Not that my wolf was interested, he was waiting for his mate and never came out when I was banging my one-night-stands. I reached over and shook her shoulder. "Wake up, I've got to get to work and you need to leave," I said. "FBI stuff."

"I just want to SLEEP," she whined as I pulled the covers off her.

I smacked her ass lightly. "Get dressed," I said. "Leave your number on the pad by door if you want to hook up again." She groaned and rolled out of bed, grabbing her panties and her dress as she went to the bathroom in my apartment on the 22nd floor of the Dallas condominium complex. I had showered with her last night, mainly to get the heavy perfume she used off before we slept together. I walked to my dresser, pulled out some clothes and was putting my rubber-soled dress shoes on by the time she came out. "I had fun last night, and I'm sorry about this," I said as I tucked my .40-caliber Glock 22 into my holster, and strapped my backup, a .40-caliber Glock 27 into an ankle holster. I made sure my black dress pants hung properly, then grabbed my suit jacket.

"It's all right, I should have known sleeping with a Federal Agent wouldn't end up well," she said as she picked up her purse. "You're a great fuck, though, so I'm leaving my number."

"Do you need cab money?"

"No, I'll call an Uber. Thanks for the fun, Ranmo." I kissed her, running my hand down her back before patting her ass and sending her on the way. I used the bathroom, grabbed a Mountain Dew and a bag of chocolate mini-donuts, and was out the door. A few minutes later I was driving my Jeep Cherokee out of the underground parking garage and through the city streets.

The text message had the address and the phone led the way while I ate my Breakfast of Champions. My Mom would hold her hand over her heart and beg me to settle down with a nice she-wolf if she knew how I was taking care of myself, but my werewolf metabolism could handle it. Being a city wolf wasn't anything like how I grew up.

My parents were Alphas of the prosperous Sulphur River Pack, north of Dallas near the Oklahoma border. Our Pack ran a cattle ranch on almost ten thousand acres of land, plus we owned mineral rights to the oil below. I was the eighth of ten children and the fifth son, so I was well down the list of Alpha heirs. When I showed an interest in law enforcement after finishing law school, my father encouraged me to apply to the FBI. I'd been an agent for six years now, starting out in Minneapolis before transferring to the Dallas office and the Human Trafficking Division.

I picked Human Trafficking for two reasons; the practice disgusted me, and it gave me insight and access into how identities could be created or transferred. The FBI had a whole division dedicated to witness protection relocations, and if you just needed an identity it was even easier. Packs needed this because werewolves lived longer than humans and a person who was eighty years old and looked to be thirty raised suspicions. A few of the freelance forgers I'd come across had been "privatized" by our Pack, working with and training our Pack members in their techniques. We now supplied identity services to werewolves across the country. It was a valuable and profitable line of work for us.

I exited the freeway, soon rolling up to a piece of shit hotel in a bad part of town. It didn't shock me a prostitution operation was using a whole floor of this dump. I showed my badge to the cop at the entrance and pulled into the lot.

As soon as I got out of the car, I scented her. My wolf rushed forward, looking for his mate, and I followed the scent trail inside.

Special Agent Ranmo Smith's POV

The scent trail led me to an entrance on the west end of the building, which was propped open. I had my FBI credentials on my belt, and I checked in with the locals and got a quick overview of what had happened. As I went in, the scent got much stronger. I pushed my wolf back as I went up the stairwell. I stopped at the third floor and took a deep breath; it was stronger on this floor, but I could follow it up to the fourth as well.

I had to find her.

Opening the door to the third floor, I followed it down five doors on the right. The room was slightly opened, but empty. Her smell, and that of a human female, was strong. I closed the door behind me, drinking in her scent.

I put on gloves and started looking for clues. The room was clean, or at least as clean as could be expected for a shithole like this. The bed had been used, and I pulled and bagged some long blonde hairs from the two. I used dusting power to look for prints in the best places, the door handles and the bathroom faucets. I took pictures of the best prints, then wiped them off. I'd run them later if I couldn't find out who it was otherwise.

After ten minutes, I hadn't found anything I could use. I got a text message, Agent Martinez was meeting with the local homicide detectives and wondering where the hell I was. I walked out of the room, pulling the latex gloves off and putting them in my jacket pocket.

Upstairs, the place was a hotbed of crime scene technicians and cops. "Over here, Smith," I heard. I walked into a room where the big shots were.

"Are we advising or running this, boss," I asked as I saw my Rosalie talking to the Chief of Police.

"Advising and assisting," she said. "The homicide is theirs, but we will be helping with the interrogations of the prostitutes and the money trail."

"Four of the women we found on this floor have told us they were being held in sexual slavery," a detective said. "Four more aren't talking, and five are missing. The only one who wasn't seen after the shooting, her name was Star, not that it means anything."

"Any surveillance tapes?"

"Hell no, the computer hard drive crashed a few days ago and they haven't gotten it fixed yet," he said with an eye roll. "We're working the front desk people, there's no way a prostitution ring rolls in without help from the hotel. The other four girls who are missing took off to avoid the cops, we're looking for them. We've got descriptions from the other girls but no real names."

It was true, most of the girls were given a first name, if even that. Whether recruited, abducted or sold, the girls who fell under the control of Dirk Carlson and his wife Peggy lost all control over their lives. They moved girls from town to town, using Craigslist and social media to reach their clientele. They were tough to track, because they would set up at sundown and be gone by morning. "Smith, you assist Homicide on the deaths. Kent and I will run with the interviews of the girls."

"On it, boss," I said.

The lead homicide detective, Carl Anders, pulled me out of the room. "Let me walk you through the room and get your impressions," he said. He pointed into the open room across the hall. "This is where Dirk and Peggy set up operations."

I looked in, the cash box was still on the bed, nothing looked out of place. "Not a robbery," I said.

"Nope, there was over five grand in the box." We walked down the hall a little. There was a chalk outline of a gun. "Colt 1911, fired three times. Prints on the gun and the casings match Dirk. First victim here."

The first body was a man dressed in boxer shorts, lying halfway into the hall. The bullet had passed through the Marlboro logo on his ballcap and his brains were splattered on the doorframe behind him. There were no powder burns on his forehead, so the shooter had to be at least three feet away. There was a stick poking into the doorframe, showing the path of the bullet. It was pointed at the center of the hallway, and down at about a ten-degree angle. Looking behind him, the bed was messed up and it smelled like stale beer and sex. "One of the Johns, maybe heard something and poked his head out?"

"Yeah, he was a real upstanding citizen with a penchant for underage pussy. The girl found in the room was thirteen."

"Clean shot, better than he deserved," I said. "Shooter is in the hall..." I moved until I was facing the victim, right hand up, moving along the line of the shot. I was six-foot-four, and if I raised the gun to sight it, I was shooting at a very shallow angle. I moved to the center of the hall and bent my knees until the gun lined up with the stick. "This can't be right, unless the shooter is under five feet tall," I said. Moving closer and to the right, my knees straightened slightly. Knowing it was at least a three-foot shop, I found myself on the right side of the hallway, at a height of five-two to five-seven. "Shooter is short and may have had someone to their left."

"Interesting. All right, moving on to the lucky couple." We walked a few more doors down, and the smell of blood was overpowering. Dirk was slumped against the wall, his throat torn open, and Peggy was sprawled across his legs. I moved around them carefully; Peggy had been hit between the eye, the back of her head blown across the wall. The stick was just above the baseboard.

"She was over him when she was hit," I said. When the back of the head is hit, all motor function ceases and the victim drops like a sack of potatoes. I did the same exercise with firing heights. "It makes sense for them to be on the right side of the hallway, and that confirms a height of about five-six. I think anyone over six foot can be excluded, there just isn't enough room to fire at that angle."

"What do you think killed him?"

I put on gloves and leaned over to get a good look. As soon as I got close, I could smell her scent on him, and I froze.

My mate search had just gotten a lot more interesting and dangerous. My mate was a killer and a hell of a shot, with blonde hair and going about five foot six. There was no way I was going to let on to them they were looking for a she-wolf.

I looked closely at the wound, knowing from experience in the Packs what it was. She had shifted her hand, grabbing him with her claws and slicing through his neck like soft cheese. "Looks like multiple sharp points, like one of those bear claw things that you see kung fu guys with? What a mess." His throat had been laid open, and blood was everywhere.

"Where is the last victim?"

"A few more doors down." I could have led him there just by following her scent, and the scent of the human female she was with. It was another prostitution room, reeking of sex and sweat. The victim was nude, lying on his back on the far side of the bed. The bullet had struck him in the left temple and exited the back of his head.

"Nice fucking shooting," I said. "Three for three on head shots with someone else's gun?"

"Yeah, our killer is good."

"A pro," I said. "I don't care how close you are, that's amazing shooting." I looked at him again. "So, we have our two ringleaders dead in brutal fashion, and two dead johns. The one in the hall looked out in the hall when he shouldn't have, but this guy was banging a chick when someone kicks the door in."

"Yeah, and it's not easy to kick open one of these doors," he said. I looked at the frame, it had been splintered. A werewolf could do it in one kick, taking out the multiple latches would be more difficult for a human.

"What do we know about this guy?"

"Local guy, deacon in his church, suburban home and blue-collar job. No priors."

I smelled the bed and pillow and the human's scent was strong in it. Whoever she was, my mate had come here to get her out, then had taken her down to her room. She was either stupid or smart, and I wasn't betting on stupid. "So, based on what I've seen, we should be looking for a professional killer who is about five-foot-six and came to get this woman. She's the one who is missing, right?"

He nodded. "How did you know?"

"Because the killer ignored the girls in the other rooms and came right to this one. If the dead guy wasn't the target, the woman was."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. They took the wrong person, because hiring someone with that skill level isn't cheap. Whoever she is, her parents are rich or connected, and I'm betting on connected."

"Come on, we need to talk to my boss."

I followed behind him, trying to figure out what to do next. I needed to talk to my father; there were things I knew about the shooter that only he could know about.

I spent another three hours on-scene, working with Detective Anders as the bodies were moved and the scene was processed. I talked to the officers who had done the canvassing and got a description of the women in the room on the third floor. "She was a hottie," he told me. "About this high," he held his hand at my shoulder height, "Looked like a gymnast or dancer, even in the middle of the night she had a perkiness to her. Blonde hair past the shoulders. Her sister I didn't get a good look at, but she was blonde too."

I had an idea and pulled out my phone. Going to the messages from my father, I scrolled up until I got to the picture that had been sent out with the reward from the Council. It was a surveillance photograph taken on Alpha Kenyon's land before he was killed. I made it full screen. "Was this her?"

He looked at it and his eyes got wide. "Yeah, definitely her. Such an innocent face, you just don't forget a girl who looks like that."

"Thanks." I walked outside, I really needed to talk to my Dad, and I needed to do this in person.

My mate was the Alpha Killer, and the Council wanted her dead.

Four Years Ago, Tomah Pack, Wisconsin

Niesha's POV

I surfaced in the lake, shaking my hair as I took a breath. "Nice one, Niesha," my best friend Claire said. "I can't believe you did a double backflip!"

I smiled as I swam over to her and the other kids in the shallower water, tossing the rope swing back towards the shore. Pat caught it, handing it up until it was on top of the cliff again. The big oak tree's limb overhung the lake far enough for us to get a good thirty feet out on the swing, and you could get a long hang time if you timed it right.

I stepped out of the water, looking down at my body as I got out. I was getting curves now, my birthday had been two months ago, and I was going through a growth spurt. I was almost as tall as Nisha was. My sister was sixteen, and I was pretty sure I'd be taller than her when I was done. Curvier, too, if the early returns were true.

I moved over to the towel I'd set out, drying my long blonde hair while I watched. There were twenty or so of us at the lake on this hot August day. "Nisha, I need you to come up to the road, your parents are on the phone," Ryan Minsi sent to me. I looked in that direction, the road was a good half-mile west of where we were.

"Give me a few minutes to pack up," I said.

"Just shift and run up here," he said. I looked around, everyone was busy swimming or eating down at the beach. I shifted into my straw-blonde and white wolf and took off up the hill. A couple minutes later, I had jumped into the open passenger door of Todd's Suburban. "Here you go," Todd said as I shifted in the seat and closed the door. I grabbed the phone and put it to my ear, right as I felt something poke me in the neck.

It burned like fire as the wolfsbane hit my bloodstream, and I dropped the phone as I stared at him in shock. I tried to call for help, but the link was blocked. I looked over at him, he was grinning as he saw the recognition come over me. I had been betrayed by a man I looked at as an uncle. "What have you DONE," I cried. I felt rage well up in me, but the drugs left nowhere for it to go as I slumped back into the seat.

"Goodnight, Niesha," he said. I fought the blackness for a few moments before I lost that battle too.

Ryan Minsi's POV

I didn't have much time, so as soon as she was out, I started driving. Turning off the main road, I followed a logging trail to the edge of the territory. Another vehicle was waiting, and I pulled up alongside them. I got out and went around, opening the door and taking the young Alpha heiress in my arms. "Hold up your end of the bargain," I said with a low growl.

"Don't worry about us," the man said. "My men will be in place and ready when your Alphas return."

"Good." I put her in the back seat and closed the door, and they drove off.

I drove right back to the Pack House, parking and going back to my office. It would be a while before her absence from the beach would be noticed, I hoped, and I was right. It was two hours before I got the panicked link. "Beta, it's Claire. We can't find Niesha."

"What do you mean you can't find her?"

"We haven't seen her for a while, she must have wandered off. We can't reach her on the link, can you try?"

"Of course." Betas and Alphas had the ability to 'break in' to wolves who were blocking out communications, it was a necessity in case of emergencies. I waited a good twenty seconds before talking again. "I've got nothing. Organize everyone, start a search from where you last saw her, I'm on my way."

I ran out to my Suburban, broadcasting to the whole Pack on the way. "Niesha Hunt is missing and is not responding to my calls, last seen at the beach by the rope swing. All warriors to the perimeter, patrol and report. All other available Pack members are to respond immediately to the beach for search detail."

I drove quickly towards the beach, getting there as a few younger Pack members in wolf form were sniffing around on the road and the ditch. Pat shifted when he saw me. "Beta, her scent led here but it disappeared."

I pulled my clothes off, shifting to my wolf and trotting over. It was important for me, since anyone who picked up my scent would now expect it. "Niesha entered a vehicle on the access road above the beach. Warriors, close the roads leading out and report any activity."

"Beta, the only activity at the main entrance was the return of a van with the food order from town, nothing outbound."

"Search every road and trail," I ordered. "Any leads or scents are to be reported immediately."

I stayed in my wolf form, running down the road with a few of the younger members following. I turned off the main road to the logging trail, holding my nose down to the tracks. I left the juveniles behind as my wolf tore through the woods, knowing I had to get there first. It was the only way the others would scent me and not suspect me. I got to the boundary line of the Pack, where a chain ran across the trail, and stopped. By the time the others arrived, I had already circled the site several times. "She was here," I said as I sniffed at the ground. Crossing under the chain, I left Pack lands and entered State Forest. The road here was open, and ATV's and mountain bike trails criss-crossed the area. "Get the trackers up here," I said. "Warriors, the Alpha daughter has been taken. I want all women and children back at the Pack House, Group C warriors set protection. Group B warriors, I want constant patrols of the perimeter until further notice. Gamma Jones, bring a squad with to follow the trackers, they'll need to be in vehicles since they are going off Pack lands." The Pack was well-trained, and my orders were carried out quickly.

I didn't have to worry, Niesha was long gone. Every action I took was being judged by my Pack, and now was the time to prove I was capable of being the Alpha. The three trackers were in wolf form, and when the warriors arrived, one jumped up into each SUV. They would stay in that form, guiding the warriors as they followed the trail.

I ran back to the Pack House, trotting past the guards who removed the reinforcing bars and opened the front doors for me. Going up to my office, I pulled clothes out the closet and sat at my desk. It was time to put the second part of my plan into effect.

I took out my cellphone and called my Alpha. "Todd, I'm a little busy," Thomas said.

"It can't be helped, we have an emergency here. Niesha has disappeared, we followed the trail off territory. Someone took her away." I heard a scream, probably Luna Tasha.

"We have to leave NOW," I heard him say.

"Nisha's out on the lake with her cousins," the Luna said.

"Her grandparents can bring her later, we have to go," he said. Coming back to the phone, he started talking again. "What has been done?"

I filled him in on what had been done; while I was talking, I could hear them getting into a car and the tires squealed a little. "I was about to call the surrounding Alphas and ask for help," I finished with.

"We'll call them, you focus on the search," he said. "We'll be back in two hours, maybe less."

"Yes sir. We're doing everything we can to get her back," I said softly.

"I know you WHAT THE" and then was the screeching of tires and the crunch of metal before the line went dead.

Forty minutes later, I got the call from Alpha Clark Grissom of the LaCrosse Pack, our Luna's older brother. "Todd, it's bad," he said. "The car carrying your Alphas went off the road and down a steep embankment," he said gravely. "The Alpha and Luna were killed."

"Oh no," I said, pretending to be in shock.

"We have Nisha here, she's with her grandparents and my mate. The human authorities are involved, so we'll have to wait for the bodies to be released to us before we can hold services."

"I understand." I paused for a minute, a grin coming over my face. The men had done their job perfectly, and we were both happy. They had a young female werewolf, and I had a clear path to the Alpha position. "What do I tell the Pack? We're still in an uproar over the disappearance of Niesha."

"I think you should gather them and tell them," he said. "You're going to have to be strong for the Pack, Todd. Hold things together and keep up the search for Niesha. I'm calling the Council, I'm sure they'll get involved, but the Pack knows and trusts you. I'll make sure they understand that."

"I'll make sure the Pack stays together," I said. "Let Nisha know we're all here for her."

"I will." He hung up the phone, and I tossed mine back on my desk. Now all I had to do was convince the Council that I should be the new Alpha instead of some second or third son of an Alpha from elsewhere. The best way to ensure that would be to mate Nisha, and that is what I would tell the Council was the best solution. After all, keeping the Hunt pack in her bloodline would make everyone happy.

It made my dick hard just thinking about it.

Niesha's POV

When I came to, I was on a concrete floor and I was cold and naked.

Opening my eyes, I didn't see much. There was a stairway, and a little light coming from under the door. My wolf vision was just enough to make out a few details; it was a basement, poured concrete floor and block walls. Boxes and utilities could be seen in the back, but the area around me was open. There was a support column a few feet away, with a thick chain padlocked around it.

The other end was padlocked to a leather and metal collar fixed around my neck. I moved it, but it was not coming off. At least it wasn't silver, that would burn badly.

I grabbed the chain and pulled, it wasn't coming loose. All it did was make noise as it rattled around the thick metal post.

I took a deep sniff; the smells of the unfamiliar Pack wolves were stale. I couldn't hear any sounds in the house. I tried sending to my Pack but got nothing; I was probably too far away, since this house wasn't on our land. I yelled for help, but no one responded.

Looking around, there was a drain in the floor a few feet away, and a small plastic bucket filled part-way with kitty litter. A hose ran over from a laundry sink, at the end was a spray nozzle. I pointed it at the drain and squeezed, it was pressurized. I let it run for a little, rinsing off my arms and my body before it got too cold. I was thirsty, so I drank deeply. Whoever left me here was treating me like a cat, litter box and all.

I got to know the limits of my new home as time lost its meaning. The collar was brutally effective at keeping me from anything, and my stomach was rumbling with hunger. There were noe

windows, and the light through the door didn't vary.

I heard a noise, someone was upstairs. I could hear heavy footsteps across the floor, then the sound of a deadbolt. The door opened, and I covered my eyes, standing and moving as far away as the chain would allow me. "LET ME GO," I said.

He just laughed and raised his hand. Pain shot through me as the collar sent a shock through my neck, locking up my muscles so I couldn't even scream. I fell to the ground, twitching until it was over. "You don't look at me, you don't talk to me, you have no status anymore. You will do as you are told, immediately, or you will be punished severely."

All I could do was cry as he walked up and yanked on the chain, pulling me until I lay gasping at his feet.