Special Agent Duncan McGuire raced around the street corner, chasing his prey even as his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Duncan’s partner, Elias Lone, was just steps behind him. No damn way were they letting the killer escape.
The twisted bastard had already murdered four women in Seattle. Slashed their bodies. Torn out their throats. This nightmare was ending.
Duncan would make it end.
The perp rushed into an alley.
Dead end, asshole.
The killer didn’t know the city as well as Duncan did.
His hold tightened on his weapon, and he leapt right into the entrance of that narrow alleyway. “Freeze!” Duncan roared. “FBI!”
The perp—a man with long, shaggy, blond hair—was facing the brick wall that ended the alley. At Duncan’s shout, the man did freeze, for all of about twenty seconds. Then he started laughing as he spun to face Duncan and Elias.
“You humans are so out of your league,” the blond snarled. His hands were up, and, as Duncan watched, the guy’s nails began to transform— Into long, black claws.
The blond laughed again. “Just the two of you? This should be so easy.” His teeth were lengthening. Turning into sharp fangs. As Duncan watched, the man’s face elongated. His bones snapped.
“Hell,” Elias muttered from behind Duncan. “You were right. He’s a wolf.”
Duncan smiled, but didn’t take his eyes off the killer before him. “I told you, vamps would never waste that much blood.” Since Elias had just lost the bet, the guy owed him a hundred bucks. Duncan knew his werewolves.
The blond seemed to realize that they weren’t exactly quaking in fear before him.
“What?” Duncan asked, lifting a brow. “Is this the part where we’re supposed to act shocked because you can grow fur and howl at the moon?”
“You fuckin’—”
“Sorry,” Duncan muttered, “but you’re hardly the first Para that we’ve taken down.” Actually, Duncan and Elias were part of an elite unit that only hunted the paranormals in Seattle. The paranormals usually hid in plain sight, mostly managing to pass for humans.
Until they started to eat said humans. When the vampires and werewolves went bad and humans wound up as their prey of choice, well, that was when Duncan came in.
Someone had to keep the humans safe.
Duncan’s words seemed to enrage the werewolf before him. The guy’s lips peeled back—yeah, those teeth and claws were the weapons that had ended the lives of those four co-eds—and the fellow’s body stretched as the power of the shift flooded through him.
Duncan kept his own body loose and ready. His gun was in his hand, but he wasn’t firing unless the werewolf attacked him. His orders were to take the werewolf in, not to kill him.
The werewolf’s elongated teeth snapped together.
Like I haven’t seen all this shit before.
Unlike most humans, Duncan knew the score about the supernaturals. He’d known the truth since he’d been a kid.
“Humans aren’t going to stop me!” The killer’s cry was guttural. “You can’t!” Fur burst along his skin. He fell to the ground, his knees and palms hitting the cement. His eyes glowed. “You don’t have the power!” That last was more growl than human speech as the guy completed his shift…
And became a full on wolf.
The wolf launched at Duncan. Not coming in alive. Duncan’s fingers tightened around the trigger. He fired. Once. Twice.
The bullets stopped the werewolf cold.
“Silver, dumb ass,” Duncan said with a sad shake of his head as smoke drifted from the wolf’s body. “It’ll stop your kind every time.” The fur slowly melted from the beast’s body. The bones reshaped. In death, the monster became a man again. Well, not completely a man. A werewolf still kept his fangs and claws at death.
“Nice shots,” Elias said, still from behind him.
Duncan grunted. He kept his weapon up as he eased closer to the body. Lowering the gun at this point would be a rookie mistake. Paras weren’t like humans. Even if they looked dead, half the time, they weren’t. They’d keep coming and coming and coming, just like the monsters in scary movies. Only this wasn’t a movie.
Reality was scarier than the late-night horror shows.
“You hit him in the head,” Elias said as he slid closer. “Don’t worry, man, he’s gone. He’s—”
A growl sounded from the mouth of the alley. Duncan spun around.
Too late.
It wasn’t just a lone werewolf they were hunting. He’d thought they were dealing with an isolated killer, a werewolf gone mad with bloodlust. That profile had been what the intel had showed him.
The intel was wrong.
Logan was gazing at a pack. Four other fully shifted werewolves were at the front of that alley.
They were leaping for Elias. And Elias had put up his weapon already. Rookie mistake.
Duncan rushed forward and shoved his partner to the side, barely dodging the claws of a werewolf. Duncan aimed his gun and started firing. Again and again.