Page 17 of Finn
The club was packed, crowded with supernaturals of every variety, with a few scattered humans dotting the shadows.
Neon lights flickered overhead, casting strange colors across the walls, and the relentless beat of the bass seemed to vibrate in my bones.
I did my best to avoid the flow of patrons moving around me, keeping my head down.
Even then, I felt like I stood out. Like a spark in a room full of shadows. Too bright, too… vulnerable.
I’d already sent a message to Scar, my contact, to let him know I’d arrived.
When no response came, I pulled out my phone and typed again:I’m here.
A second of hesitation, then I added,Gray jacket, black jeans,in case he needed help finding me in the crowd.
I tucked my phone away and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
Then, I caught the scent. Earthy, animalistic, wild.
I barely had time to process it before a hulking, red-haired man broke away from the crowd, making a direct line for me.
His gaze was sharp, and a jagged scar cut across his face, marking him unmistakably.
My hand inched toward the knife at my belt, a reflex I didn’t even think about.
The weapon was slim comfort in a place like this, but instinct had me reaching for it all the same.
Was this a trap?
For a fleeting second, I wondered if the Elders had set me up, arranging my death in the most inconspicuous way possible.
My heart raced, and I could feel a cold sweat breaking out along my brow.
The Guild had a way of removing hunters who crossed lines, a merciless efficiency that left no room for error or escape.
The man leaned in close, his breath brushing against my ear. “You the hunter from the Guild?”
The words sent a chill down my spine, but I forced myself to answer calmly. “I am. You’re Scar?” I asked.
“That’s me.” Scar gave a grin, flashing sharp, gleaming teeth under the club’s flashing lights. “I need you to come with me.”
My stomach dropped, but I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “For what?”
“Relax, little hunter,” he said, his grin widening, every bit the predator sizing up prey. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The way he moved was almost unnervingly smooth, each step catlike, and suddenly I understood. Werelion.
The Claw and Fang was owned by Gage King, leader of the local lion pard and one of the vampires’ biggest allies.
I’d read about him in my research on Craven Hill, but it didn’t help the unease that clung to me like a second skin.
We were supposed to protect humans. That was the core tenet that had been drilled into us since our training days.
Yet here I was, caught in a contract that seemed to betray everything we stood for.
Why had the Guild accepted a contract with the werelions?
Gage King and his pard had blood on their hands, just like the vampires they claimed to be at odds with.
Accepting a job from them felt like a betrayal of our mission.
