Page 25 of Fated to the Lone Shifter
The Captain continues with great disdain. "So lone psycho thinks he’s a werewolf?”
“I think someone’s hunting during the full moon. And they’re organized. Strong. This wasn’t random. The body was buried deliberately. Ritualistic, even.”
That gets Greene’s attention. His jaw sets. “You think this is a cult thing?”
I don't answer. I just shake my head. My mind flashes back to the scent in the ash—earthy, feral, laced with something sharp and wrong. Not a natural predator. Not even a rogue.
A pack.
Captain Greene gets up. "God, what I wouldn't give for an old-fashioned angry arsonist. Those were the days!"
I can't help but chuckle, but it's short-lived. "I think we should do a lockdown of Lolo. Just during the full moon. Quietly. No big announcements. Just… increased watch. A warning to the locals.”
Greene shakes his head, the edge of doubt creeping into his expression. “Oh, the Mayor would love that. Talk about driving tourists away!"
“Then at least put more boots on the ground. Have every firefighter posted and reporting in. Let me draft a schedule. We’ve got to get to the next one earlier…before all the evidence disappears.”
Greene sighs. “Fine. But keep it tight. I’ll say it’s a wildfire watch protocol. And nothing about the full moon to the crew. Understood?”
I nod, already strategizing. “We’ll need body cams. Just in case we catch something no one’s willing to talk about.”
The Captain looks at me sideways. “And you?”
“I’ll be circling.” I pause. Let the word hang. “Everywhere.”
But that’s only half the truth.
I won’t just be on duty.
I’ll be hunting.
I tear into my steak with a feral sort of hunger, blood-red juices streaking across my plate. The meat’s still bleeding. It’s how my body demands it now—on the cusp of the full moon, when hunger means more than flavor. Each bite keeps the gnawing edge of the beast at bay. I eat quickly, almost mechanically, like I'm fueling up for war.
Marcus sits down with his small steak and potatoes. He considers my plate with awe. "A little hungry tonight?"
I punch him in the shoulder. Enough said.
The others at the firehouse gather around the table, passing around printouts of maps and assignments. I've drawn up a rotating watch schedule. I'm careful, deliberate, assigning each firefighter to a post with overlapping visibility and strict check-in times.
I make sure the body cams are handed out last. “Wear these,” I say, tone sharp. “Even if it feels stupid. It’s not just for accountability—it’s for your safety. I want a visual record of every step taken tonight.”
Marcus snorts, tossing his camera in the air and catching it. “Expecting trouble?”
I give him a hard look. “Just be ready for anything.”
Around the table, the levity fades. I can feel it in the air now—the shift. A nervous edge under their skin. They know this isn’t routine. Even Sera seems ill at ease.
What I don’t tell them is I’m not just preparing for an emergency. I’m preparing for war.
As the sun begins to set, casting the firehouse in burnt orange light, I walk the perimeter one last time. Everything is in place. Everyone is where they need to be. I don't smell anything out of the ordinary
And I would.
My wolf senses sharpen to a razor’s edge under the full moon—every rustle of leaves, every shift in the wind, charged with possibility. I sniff the air again, alert for whatever threat might be lurking just out of sight.
As midnight approaches, the night appears to be uneventful. Some of the firefighters are being relieved from their posts. The body cams are transferred, and each fighter has checked in with me, except for...
As I think it, Sera checks in.
