Chapter 1
For a werewolf hunter, being in the right place at the right time was crucial.
Unfortunately for Zach, he wasn’t the hunter, but the hunted.
Zach surveyed the empty diner outside of Seattle. The hard guitar riffs from the rock classic, “Black Dog,” from Led Zeppelin belted through the jukebox on the far side of the room. A few tables needed clearing from the last patrons, but otherwise he had the place to himself. He considered his piss-poor odds at escape. One entrance in the front. Another in the rear through the kitchen. Glass windows everywhere.
The bell attached to the door jingled.
Guess the diner wasn’t empty anymore.
Five guys waltzed in wearing nondescript jeans and heavy coats, the scent of firearms and sweat heavy in their clothes. They sat in the booths on the other end of the room. The Red werewolf hunting clan had found him.
Anticipation seeped into him. Another fight was coming. If he closed his eyes, he could faintly hear their conversation over the music.
Werewolf hearing came in handy.
“You can’t keep running from us, McGinnis,” the clan sage, Old Bart, had told him. When Zach’s old werewolf hunting team had cornered him in Missoula, Montana, he’d bitten off more than he could chew.
They’d nearly killed him, but he survived long enough for a werewolf’s bite to save his life. Now that he played for team werewolf, he was still on the run while trying to figure out how to be a werewolf.
There was nothing like on-the-job training.
Another party entered the diner. Two men in black coats, stocky enough to be considered hired security, surveyed the room and ushered a woman to the west side of the diner. The beautiful Black woman smelled of money: lush floral perfume and the faint hint of expensive leather from a luxury vehicle. Expensive rings glinted off her fingers, and a long ivory dress peeked out from under her luxurious mink coat. Zach glanced at her, and when their gazes connected, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
Very bad news, the wolf within warned him. She isn’t human.
One waitress approached the party. Only the woman ordered a coffee. No cream. Five sugars.
From the other side of the room, one of the Red clan members shifted. Zach turned away from them. Far enough for the group to not see the Kimber Warrior handgun in his hand, but close enough for him to see them make their move.
And it would come. He had less than three minutes.
An olive-skinned woman from the kitchen walked up to the counter where he sat. “Want to order some food?”
He glanced up at her, and his breath caught.
“Zach?” The dark-haired woman’s mouth parted slightly. “It is you, isn’t it?”
How differently did he look compared to before he became a werewolf? The last time he’d taken in his face in the mirror, there’d been an edge to the glint in his hazel eyes. A harshness to the sharp angles in his face.
Damn it all to hell, he’d found her. Lark.
“Yeah.” He bit back a sigh. Now wasn’t the time for a reunion with the woman he’d left behind without a word less than a year ago.
He had his reasons for leaving, but now wasn’t the time to discuss them with her.
“Wow…” Lark frowned, and her warm welcome vanished. “I prayed long and hard for months for a chance to cuss your ass out. Little did I know you’d do me a favor and show up right at my workplace.”
“I can explain, but now isn’t the time.”
She crossed her arms. “Of course it isn’t. Looks like you’re doing fine. Probably been working out and partying with your friends in Vancouver?”
“You could say that.” How the hell could he make her leave? “I know this is gonna sound weird, but something big is about to go down and you can’t stay here.”
Skepticism practically drenched her face, but when he didn’t blink, she scanned the customers in the room. She assessed them with a trained eye, like her werewolf hunter father. “The rowdy boys in big coats or the folks in designer stuff?”
He chuffed. “Both? If one opens fire, the other ones will jump in.”
Her dark eyebrows rose. “Are they all after you? Why?”
Time’s running out, McGinnis.
He was practically ready to escape, but he had to get her out of there first.
“It’s a long story, and no, just the fellows sitting to the left of me,” he replied.
“What are they packing?”
Did she seriously just ask that?
In his peripheral vision, the rich lady whispered to one of her cohorts. The guard leaned her way, then he looked in Zach’s direction. No, not Zach. The man was staring at Lark.
Why?
Hackles raised, Zach whispered, “You’re leaving in thirty seconds.”
She slowly shook her head in disbelief. “There are a bunch of innocent people in the kitchen.”
“Those guys will shoot first and ask questions later, Lark.”
Their gazes locked.
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll try to get the high schoolers out of the kitchen.”
Watching her retreating back should’ve filled him with hope, but regret sucker-punched him in the chest. Letting her go would save her life again. If he left her behind once, he could do it again.
Zach’s grip on the handgun tightened, and he released the safety. Briefly, he closed his eyes and inhaled. Scents and sounds coursed over him. The important noises bled through the heavy bass and drums from Mountain singing “Mississippi Queen.”
“No matter what,” his good friend and alpha werewolf Kaden Windham told him, “your senses are hyperaware now. Use them. Feel them.”
His fingertips itched. Claws always hurt when they emerged, but the hunger to fight fed adrenaline into his system.
The clinking of the dishes in the back kitchen ceased. Footsteps echoed and the sounds of Lark whispering to the staff reached his ears.
“Take fifteen,” she said to them. “I’ll take over for now.”
She was telling the kids to take a break. Good.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit, Dan?” she asked someone else back there.
“Naw, we got a big order from those dudes.”
“Fine,” she grumbled. But Zach didn’t hear the back door open and close again.
What the hell? Why did she stay?
In the corner, Old Bart unbuttoned his coat. The barrel-chested man always carried the most heat. Fuck. Time was up. But to Zach’s surprise, Old Bart pulled out a shotgun and aimed the weapon at Zach’s head. The second his finger squeezed the trigger, Zach dropped to the ground, then launched himself over the counter.
As Zach landed hard on the tile floor, he sensed movement from the mysterious lady and her men. The burly guards tossed their table onto its side to guard their mistress.
From behind the counter, Zach caught the sounds of more gunfire and overturned tables.
Cops would be here soon. And damn it, Lark better be out of here.
He hurried to the end of the counter, away from the Red hunting clan and closer to the rich lady’s party. The swinging door to the kitchen was a few feet away. At the far end, he peeked around the corner, tensing up to rush toward the nearest window.
He caught quite the sight. Instead of cowering, the woman kneeled behind the table and lifted her hands as if in the middle of prayer. Bullets pinged from the Red clan’s guns and whizzed past her, but none of them touched her. The woman’s lips quivered as she spoke in a language he didn’t recognize. Suddenly, the ground shook beneath his feet. The windows rattled from some unseen force.
“What’s going on?” one of the clan members said.
“Dunno. This ain’t right,” Old Bart replied. “V-formation. Eliminate them to kill to the wolf.”
The Red hunting clan surged toward the woman’s party, raining bullets on them while the guards returned fire.
Caught in the middle, Zach tensed up and prepared to run. Even if they filled him with silver bullets, he was getting the hell out of here.
* * *
Shots fired through the dining room.
But that wasn’t all—the earth trembled as if an earthquake had hit.
The shaking increased, erupting into a deafening roar from the dining area. The swinging door to the dining room opened and scalding air swept into the kitchen. An explosion flung Lark into the wall. Glass, pots, and pans rained down. Her breath rushed out of my lungs. Her ears rang.
Just when she thought the worst had passed, something heavy struck the side of her head. Bile rose in her throat as lights danced across her eyes.
With her face planted against the cold floor, all she could make out were screams and sparks from broken lights. The stench of smoke and burnt food seared her lungs. Blackness crept around the edge of her thoughts as her senses dulled.
Get up, damn it! she could hear her dad yell. He’d died less than a year ago, but his voice was still strong within her. You’re in danger, girl.
In the past, she always got up. A dead DeStefano was the one who rested on their laurels. But her limbs refused to comply. Not far to her left, she heard the crunch of footsteps against the broken glass. Her heartbeat matched the throbbing pain in her head as it quickened.
Was Zach still out there?
She hoped until warm hands touched the top of her head and back. But their touch wasn’t gentle. She caught a whiff of lavender, delicate and airy. The hands on her body didn’t search for injuries or whisper words to soothe her pain. Heat spread from the feminine hands into her back. What the hell was going on?
Giovanni DeStefano had refused to teach Lark his hunting clan ways, but she’d listened when members of the Azzuro hunting clan from Sicily visited her dad’s pub.
They spoke fervently of their cause. How the hunters must eliminate the wolves. None of those hunters would go down without a fight. Survivors didn’t lie there.
So she tried to speak, but her mouth refused to cooperate. She willed her eyes to open. For her hands to clench into fists so she could strike the woman who pressed her cheek into the icy floor. The hands suddenly withdrew as another thunderous burst of flame engulfed the room, raising the temperature from tepid to scorching. Everything burned. Her back. Her lungs.
She’d died and gone to hell.
Why couldn’t her head turn to see the woman? She wanted to see her attacker’s face. Not that she could fight or spit at the woman, but something inside made her want to confront them. But she wouldn’t have her chance. Darkness spread into her vision as she resisted the current toward the void.
A woman’s voice bled into the dimness.
“A circle is a path with no ending and no beginning. You follow the circle now,” the woman whispered to her. “No matter how winding the journey, you will never divert from where you need to be.”
The fury Lark reached for never surfaced. As she fell unconscious, the fading warmth on her back spread across her chest, settling into an itch that coiled and tightened.
* * *
A white-hot explosion slammed Zach into the wall. The counter absorbed most of the force, but his entire chest screamed in agony. Debris from the ceiling rained down on him, blanketing him with tiles and glass.
He sucked in a smoke-filled breath, cringing as his flesh healed and knotted itself back together. He surmised he’d never get used to the peculiar feeling.
The sounds of bullets—like pelting rain—had ceased. Tactical body armor wouldn’t protect the Red clan from an attack like that. Had the party on the other side of the room survived the blast?
Then a singular thought hit him hard: Find Lark.
He rolled onto his stomach and caught the scent of burning flesh. Burnt wolf. With a grunt, he ignored the pain and forced himself to rise. Through the smoke and building heat, he couldn’t make out much. Only the faint wail of an oncoming siren bled through the roar of the fire.
Zach drew in a deep breath and held it. Not a single scent. He crept away from the counters to the back of the diner. A support beam blocked his entry, but with a mighty heave, he hoisted it out of the way. An entire section of the wall had collapsed—blown to bits by an unseen force. The last thing he’d seen was the woman in the white dress kneeling, her fists clenching as if she was preparing to punch a hole through the universe.
Had she attacked everyone instead?
Please be alive, Lark.
He wanted to see Lark again so he could find out why she’d stubbornly stayed.
Flames engulfed the kitchen. Thick smoke forced him to crouch. He ambled around the dented prep tables, over the scattered food on the floor. Finally, he caught a moan and spotted a figure leaning over another. It was the woman in white. How had she entered the kitchen so quickly? The woman he searched for lay at her feet.
Had she hurt Lark?
Fury gathered in him. A growl formed in his chest.
Leaping over fallen tables, he rushed to Lark. The woman in white glanced at him over her shoulder and then hurried out the open back door into the night.
He knelt next to Lark. Was she dead? He reached for her and caught a faint pulse—her heartbeat defiantly hammered in her chest.
Leave now, assess later.
Any minute now, the gas lines might ignite. They weren’t safe here. Zach picked up Lark and carried her out the same door.
He searched the alley for the woman in white, but she’d vanished.
