Howling Fate (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #3)

1. Basir

Basir

The assassin’s screams of agony echoed through the interrogation room.

More. Not enough. It was the only thought I could manage at this moment.

Everything else was covered in a suffocating layer of fury—the image of Gracie’s broken wolf form soaked in crimson and collapsed on the stone floor of Alpha Waylon’s pavilion playing violently in my brain.

“He’s not going to last very long.” Thornar’s voice was tainted with a thin guise of amusement. I could feel his more visceral emotions—anger and bloodlust—but it wasn’t something I could worry about right now.

“Assassins aren’t built for interrogation,” I murmured. “They’re built for one job.”

To kill me. That had been their assignment, and they’d failed.

If they hadn’t, there’d probably have been a better ending in store for this bastard. But he’d hurt my mate, nearly fucking killed Gracie.

My fingers tightened around my knife, hard enough to draw blood where it cut into my palm. The bullet had been for me. So why was Gracie laying in our bed, unconscious and bleeding?

I couldn’t touch the guilt that swirled within me. Not yet.

Pushing off the wall, I passed Thornar, who was pacing the room in thought. Or maybe restraint. His impulse to slaughter the man in front of us was barely contained.

If Ravik had been here rather than standing guard at Gracie’s side I wouldn’t have been as concerned about the possible preemptive killing. As it was, I wasn’t sure I had the ability to hold Thornar back much longer.

I also didn’t want to.

“Hard to believe he can hold a fucking gun, let alone aim.”

Thornar was right - the assassin did look particularly frail. He wasn’t a large man and was clearly older than most in the field, his mask ripped away to show the fine lines on his face between the bruising.

He hadn’t expected to survive this.

The moment the bullet left the chamber, the dragon shifters around us bolted into action, capturing the assailant from where he had been perched up on a higher balcony. He’d been gifted to us almost immediately, in what felt like an apology from Waylon and his mate.

It wasn’t enough. Not with her unconscious in bed.

As I approached the chair, a groan of pain or maybe fear came from the man’s mouth, his body flinching away from me. His black clothes were soaked in blood. In fact, outside of his face, every inch of him was covered in blood.

A sudden thought occurred to me.

The assassin hissed as I ripped off his gloves without regard to his broken fingers.

Both hands were bare of markings. Not satisfied, I shoved his head to the side and began cutting away the material that covered his neck, ignoring his screams of pain when my knife met skin.

I had no doubt he would pass out from a loss of blood soon, but that didn’t fucking matter to me.

“Cutting his throat? I mean I won’t complain, but—”

“Fuck.”

My curse of frustration had Thornar’s words abruptly cut off. I turned away from the man, removing my hands like he’d burned me even though I’d expected—and was completely unsurprised to find—the brand on the left side of his neck.

“Cinder Ring.” Thornar said in grim realization. I nodded sharply. Not only had Gracie jumped in front of a bullet for me, but the bullet had been specifically for me because of my tainted fucking past.

Fuck.

Staring at the door of the interrogation room, I fought the urge to flee.

To fucking hide. I was a stronger man than that; I had to be for Gracie.

This wasn’t the moment outside of the Solspire when I’d run because I felt guilty for the vision I’d induced with my touch.

No. This was my mate who had nearly been fucking killed. I needed this bastard to suffer.

I needed to get back to my glow.

“Well, now we know who to fucking blame. Mission accomplished.” Thornar’s feigned indifference was undercut by the sound of his safety being flipped. I wasn’t surprised when shots rang out. Not one. Five.

The silence that filled the room wasn’t relieved or settled.

“Feel better?” I asked him.

“No. Not in the fucking least.”

We left the room without a word; I had no doubt that the soldiers stationed outside would handle the disposal.

A clear and targeted hit from Cinder Ring would be met with escalation.

But first we would check on Gracie.

Waylon’s castle had spacious halls, the scent of the sea on the night breeze drifting in from open walkways.

The staff moved quietly, and the heaviness in the air made it obvious that everyone knew what had happened.

Thornar and I were silent as we made our way back to the room.

As representative for the Ironsun Pack, it only made sense that Ravik was the one who had stayed back with our mate—especially if Waylon stopped by—but right now I was beyond envious.

Our mate bond had been one of the only threads of stability I’d been able to hang onto for the past few hours.

Though she was unconscious, I could feel that Gracie was okay.

Not good, but okay. The hum through our bond, quiet and steady, was far different than it had been when she’d been hit by the bullet.

It had reverberated so badly that it felt like our bond was going to snap.

But it didn’t. Gracie was still here.

As we grew closer, I made an effort to keep my thoughts and feelings stable—as much as they could be. She would feel all of it anyway when she woke. I didn’t want my spike of emotions to impact her healing process in any way.

I was thankful for the medical staff that was overlooking that process. Waylon’s healers were talented, and outside of knowing that Ravik would be by her side, it was one of the only reasons I’d felt comfortable leaving her in the first place.

“I’ll tell Ravik about the Cinder Ring connection.” Thornar offered as we reached the last set of stairs. I nodded, not trusting what I’d say. The guilt felt like heavy stones in my gut.

“It isn’t your fault, you know,” Thornar said evenly. “They’re targeting us because of Ravik’s family and Gracie’s connection to Ivan—not because of you. I doubt they even remember you. You were probably just the easiest target in their line of sight.”

I didn’t believe that. They may have originally placed the target on our group as a whole, but it would be ridiculous to assume that this hit hadn’t been purposeful. After all, it leaves a mark when you lose your best drug runner.

Looking at Thornar, I shook my head. “I promise you, they remember exactly who I am.”

Thornar didn’t argue with me, and when we reached the door to our suite, I went straight to Gracie—ignoring any staff in the room and barely glancing at Ravik.

Kneeling down at the side of the bed, I examined her form which was covered up to her neck with a thick quilted blanket.

She’d been wiped clean of blood, but the skin beneath looked so pale. Her lips were nearly blue.

Gracie looked…I stopped myself, refusing to allow my brain to go there.

My ears rang with static as Ravik launched into an update. I took her fingers in mine, flipping her wrist to watch her pulse. I slid my fingers over it, letting out a shaky breath of relief. She was alive. My glow was alive.

Closing my eyes, I focused on that steady beat as the adrenaline of the initial shooting and interrogation, even seeing her like this, seeped from my body.

Exhaustion crowded in, but I didn’t move from her side.

My brain wandered, though, and before I knew it I was pulled into a memory of the past—one I never planned on reliving.

“Four tonight. Be quick with it.” I didn’t say a word as I picked up the wrapped items, sliding them into my backpack. With a sharp nod to the distributor, I tugged up my hood and made my way to the exit.

Four was an easy night. I’d be back before the thunderstorm I could smell growing in the air.

The Rot, the name for the series of sewers that Cinder Ring operated from, was quiet tonight.

The normal groups of runners were absent, off working somewhere in the territory like I’d soon be.

There was an upcoming holiday, which meant everyone was ‘treating’ themselves to a high and we had far too many deliveries.

It was also why I could hear details of the conversation going on in the smaller tunnel that led out of this one to the east. Two higher ups, not giving me a thought as I paused to adjust my straps and listen.

“The bastard wants to meet with us, says he has something that could benefit all of us.” The scoff from the first man fully expressed his disbelief and amusement.

“I won’t trust any of them, even if they gave us a shit ton of gold,” the second chuckled. “But if it means his soldiers are looking the other way as we work? I won’t say no.”

They were talking about Alpha Graeme Sharp. One of the clients I delivered to lived near him, and I constantly heard them talking shit about his need to appease the ‘top crime syndicate’ in the city.

Although, how we could be so important when we lived in a place called ‘The Rot’ was confusing.

Leaving the grimy corridor of the sewer, I kept to the shadows of the rainy streets to avoid detection from local law enforcement.

I’d gotten taller recently but after years of being invisible, my ability to move quietly hadn’t changed much.

It probably helped that I was practically skin and bones, barely able to get a meal in daily.

Any large amount of food I did get was dropped at my parents’ door. It wasn’t my responsibility—not exactly—but I still did it.

My first delivery brought me to a familiar street. My parents’ house sat in the middle of the crowded block, a singular light swinging on the porch. I hadn’t been back in nearly a month.

Stepping up to the left side of the home, which was sagging as if melting into the ground, I crouched down to look through the open window.

Well. They were still in there. They were still alive.

My lips peeled back with disgust. Both of them sat there, glassy-eyed and staring at the flickering television. The mattress in the middle of our living room was soiled, and a rat scuttled past the pile of food they’d yet to touch.

I could have broken through the front door and they wouldn’t have even registered I was there. They used shockdust like many of Cinder Ring’s clients, but I knew they were on other shit too.

Standing, I shook off my frustration. These were the two people that were supposed to love me? To care for me?

It didn’t matter who was supposed to love you. They wouldn’t. Ever.

My eyes were heavy as they slowly opened to the ambient lighting of the room. It was silent outside of Gracie’s even breathing as candlelight flickered warmly across her face.

Thornar, to the left side of the bed, was sleeping, and Ravik sat in an armchair, spread out and trying to rest. But where was everyone else? There was no staff, no medical attendants. Why had I been sleeping when I should have been watching her?

“Get some sleep,” I said to Ravik. He offered me an exhausted nod before standing and moving to the couch nearby.

Standing, I adjusted the blanket around Gracie, taking a moment to look at her injury.

The bullet had hit at the joint of her shoulder and torso, luckily missing any major arteries.

The bleeding had been stopped and the bullet removed.

When I’d last seen it, the wound had been soaking through the bandages. Now it wasn’t.

That was an improvement. Even her once icy complexion was filled with color.

Glow was going to be okay—anything less was unacceptable.

A knock at the door had me waving Ravik off before he could rise. Making my way to the door, I was relieved to find Healer Thorne and his daughter. I stepped back, allowing them into the room.

“How has she been sleeping?” Lucy, the daughter, asked as her father began shifting the bandages to check on the injury. I had to stifle a defensive rumble at anyone touching Gracie right now, despite knowing they had the best intentions for her.

“She hasn’t woken,” I said, feeling like I should know more.

“And hasn’t moved much,” Ravik added.

“Well.” Healer Thorne looked up from the bandages. “She is healing much faster than I would have expected.”

“Her wolf seems to be helping,” Lucy pointed out, looking at the three of us. “You can feel it, right? Her wolf is right at the surface.”

Closing my eyes and focusing on our bond, I realized she was right. Gracie’s wolf was pacing just under her skin, pushing a thread of warm healing energy throughout her body. How had I not noticed that before?

Gracie’s wolf had always been quiet. Not weak, just scared. But her wolf felt different now. The question was: why?