Soon, I’d become one of them.
I’d become a wolf.
CHAPTER 1
Sera Moore
The ruins of Dublin stretched out before me, jagged and silent under the pale light of the moon. I crouched atop a crumbling rooftop, my black coat blending into the shadows as I watched the group below through the scope of my rifle.
They’d settled into an old pub for the night. It was two stories, and still mostly intact. Sturdy enough to take shelter for the night, but not enough to withstand what was coming.
Not strong enough to stop a girl like me.
I adjusted the scope, my breath slow and even as I counted. Ten shifters now.Ten. The original five from the zone had been joined by another pack. Logan Yorke was in there among them.
I toggled the scope to switch to infrared. Heat signatures flared, their forms moving lazily within the building. Five downstairs. Six upstairs. They were calm, and completely unaware of the danger lurking above them. My lips curved into a faint smile.
The sister was there, too: Zara Yorke.
She moved among them like she belonged there, her figure distinct, her heat signature brighter than the others.
I tapped the side of my mask, activating the comms. A faint buzz answered, followed by a clipped, efficient voice. “Report, Operative Moore.”
“Ten shifters confirmed,” I said, my voice calm. “Five from Logan’s pack. Five from the zone. The sister is with them too.”
“Repeat that, Operative,” the voice said sharply.
I adjusted my position, keeping the scope trained on the group. “Zara Yorke is with them. She’s aligned with both packs. They’re moving as one now.”
A long pause. “This is new information.”
I smirked slightly as I watched Logan’s tall, distinct figure through the scope. He stood by the window, his broad frame outlined in the dim light of a lantern burning behind him.
“They’re coordinating,” I continued. “Ten shifters in a single location. London will want to know about this.”
“Confirmed,” the voice replied. “Authorization for escalation will be reviewed. Continue observation and report any changes.”
I toggled the comms off, my fingers grazing the hilt of the blade strapped to my thigh. The cold steel was reassuring, a constant reminder of my purpose.
This wasn’t just a job; to me, it was personal.
I adjusted my position again, scanning the ruins for signs of movement. The thought of what lay ahead—of taking anothergroup of shifters down—sent a spark of satisfaction and excitement racing through me.
Logan Yorke was a shifter, like the one who’d killed my brother all those years ago. A monster hiding behind human eyes.
I was eleven the night my brother died.
I still remember the way the cold clung to the air, the streets slick with rain as he walked me home from school back in London. Jacob had always been the protective one, older by five years, but always treating me like I was still a kid.
“Stay close, Sera,” he’d murmured, his grasp tightening around my wrist.
I had rolled my eyes, shoving him off. “You’re acting like we’re about to get mugged.”
He hadn’t laughed, just kept walking, his eyes darting around the dim alleyway we’d taken as a shortcut.
We never saw it coming.
One moment, it was quiet. The next, a dark creature darted through the shadows—a flash of silver fur, a snarl that cut through the night air. Then blood. So much blood.