Chapter 6
Hayden
Her name is Ansley Ellery.
She grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, raised by her grandparents after her mother passed away. Her father’s name isn’t on the birth certificate.
I was hoping to learn more. Something that would explain why I feel so drawn to her. Why she makes my instincts burn like fire. All I have are more questions.
She’s a Scion. I’m sure of that. It didn’t come from her mother’s bloodline.
Without knowing who her father is, the trail ends there.
The information narrows it down some. It has to be a Scion who can breed with a human.
Shifters can’t. Vampires can’t breed at all.
That means Fae blood. Witch blood. Those are the most common Scions still alive because they blend in with humans so easily.
Possibly Siren blood, although I’m pretty certain they have been extinct longer than she’s been alive.
Except none of that makes sense. The Fae Courts ruled the deep forest when I was a pup.
I’ve been around enough Fae to know their scent and it’s not subtle.
It’s strong, it lingers, and they’re easy to track.
Witches don’t have a strong scent, but their magic does.
If there was some sort of spell involved, I would have noticed that.
But even if she is Fae or witch, it doesn’t explain why she triggered my instincts. We can’t breed with either of them. A Fae or witch would be a better bedmate than a human, but there’s no urge. No need. Nothing that would make the beast inside me want to roar.
“Another night at the bar. Now she’s home,” I feel my voice rumble in my throat as I speak out loud to myself while watching her move around her apartment.
I found out where she works. Followed her there this morning. Followed her back to the bar after work. I was tempted to go inside, but I got a call from Remy that pulled me away. I barely got back before she left.
Luckily, when I’m traveling across rooftops on four paws, I’m faster than the Chicago traffic. I was waiting right here when she got home.
I can’t keep watching her forever. There are more important things on my plate with a vampire brood in Chicago.
I just can’t help myself. Every time I leave, something pulls me back.
I didn’t even realize I was following her to work this morning until she was halfway there.
My instincts just took over, even in broad daylight, when they should stay hidden.
We have to deal with these fucking vampires before the Crimson Templars find out about them. My gaze never leaves Ansley as I consider this new pressing issue. We can’t have those bastards roaming the streets, hunting Scions. Not when I can’t even get control of my instincts.
I watch Ansley until the lights go out and she goes to bed. Watching her doesn’t tell me anything new about her, except that it takes her a really long time to go through a box of junk. No Fae magic. No witch magic. Nothing that reveals what lingers in her bloodline.
But since she’s safe, I go home. My penthouse has never felt like a true home. This concrete jungle feels more like a prison. Tonight, it’s worse. I pace for hours before finally collapsing into bed.
I’m restless when I sleep, dreams full of her intoxicating scent, her eyes, the sound of her heartbeat. Everything feels off, like the world is tilted, spinning out of control, and I can’t keep up.
When my eyes finally open, I’m already moving. Out the door, across rooftops, towards her apartment before I even realize what I’m doing.
She walks out of her apartment building and I feel the rush.
The urge. The need. It’s overwhelming. I have to restrain myself because my instincts scream for me to chase her Uber down, tear the door off the hinges, and take her right there.
Satisfy my urges. Chase my needs. Breed her until her belly is swollen with my pack’s future.
Mark her so that the entire world knows she’s mine.
The thought should horrify me. I’ve never felt this with a human. Never felt this with any Scion. These are ancient instincts that are only supposed to surface when a wolf finds their true mate. It’s what I was raised to believe I would feel when I found the she-wolf who was meant only for me.
“Fuck,” I growl, gripping the edge of the roof hard enough that concrete cracks beneath my fingers. I look down in confusion, then realize I’m not in my Third Form. I shifted into my true Human Form without even realizing it. “No! Fuck! What am I doing?”
Whatever is happening to me is getting worse. Being near her is both thrilling and horrifying. It threatens my control, my pack’s safety, everything we’ve built by staying hidden.
But something inside me won’t allow me to flee. Not yet.
I shift into my Natural Form, eight hundred pounds of fur and fang, and keep pace with her Uber.
My claws shatter concrete as I propel myself across rooftops, muscles burning with exertion that does nothing to quiet the need.
When the Uber finally pulls up in front of York Financial, a howl builds in my throat.
I stifle it before it escapes, before I shake the rooftop and draw every eye below me skyward.
She’s at work. She’s safe.
The further she gets from me, the easier it is to control my instincts. The fog lifts. The need dulls to an ache instead of a scream.
I pant and snarl, then turn and sprint away. This time in the opposite direction. By the time I reach my building, I’ve shifted back to my true Human Form. The Third Form comes easier once I’ve settled down.
I walk through the door of my apartment with adrenaline fading and my urges settling like a heavy weight in my chest. A glass of whiskey helps, but it doesn’t cure me. The second takes the edge off. The third, I don’t even bother with a glass.
I finally pick up my phone and see that I’ve got a message from Remy.
Remy: I’ve got something on the vampires. I’m going over it with Storm now. Swing by The Den when you get a chance.
Hayden: On my way.
That’s what I should be focused on. The vampire threat. My brothers.
We can handle an army of freshly turned fledglings.
They’re weak, mindless, barely more dangerous than humans with sharp teeth.
But their maker is another story. Any vampire old enough to create fledglings has fed enough to be a real threat.
If Remy’s calling me to The Den instead of just texting details, he’s found something that worries him.
That alone should have my full attention.
Should.
I shove my phone in my pocket, and head for the door. Vampires I can handle. Her? I have no fucking clue.
The Den is the first place my Pack called home in Chicago.
An empty warehouse we bought and converted into a den.
Eventually, we outgrew it. Not because we needed more space, but because we were forced to come to terms with our mortality and impending extinction.
Some of us handled that better than others.
It’s hard to believe how much nature has been buried beneath this concrete.
Over two hundred years ago, when I was coming into my own as a wolf, Chicago was a tiny, isolated outpost centered around a military fort.
Log cabins, fur-trading posts, and a population of a few dozen are the ancestors of today’s metropolis.
We watched from afar as it grew, keeping to the wilderness, staying hidden. We’d learned by then what happened when humans discovered us.
Then the Crimson Templars brought their crusade to Chicago.
We watched the city burn while the bastards executed every Scion they could find.
Men tortured and murdered in the streets.
Women dragged from their homes, raped, and burned at the stake.
Children rounded up and slaughtered before they were old enough to understand why.
I can still hear the screams. Still smell the burning flesh.
That was where my pack made our final stand against them, trying to save what remained of Chicago’s Scions, trying to buy time for the survivors to run.
We came out of the wilderness to fight a battle we had no chance of winning, but we fought anyway.
What else could we do? Watch them die and do nothing?
I wear some of those scars on my skin. The worst of them—the ones inflicted on my soul—only my brothers have ever seen those.
When I walk into The Den, Remy and Storm are bent over a laptop, both in their Third Forms. Their faces are grim.
They look up when I enter, and for a moment, I see it in their eyes.
The same ghosts that haunt me. The same memories that make us desperate to keep the Crimson Templars far away from Chicago.
“What did you find out?” I growl, putting my hands on the table.
“Good to see you too, Hayden,” Storm says dryly, glancing at me for a moment before returning his attention to the laptop in front of Remy. “You tell him. You’re the one who found it.”
Remy is quiet for a moment, then he looks up at me. “It’s worse than I realized. A lot worse. I’ve been looking into the recent missing persons cases, since that’s usually the best place to start when vampires are building a brood. I mapped out where most of the disappearances are occurring.”
“And?” I ask.
“They’re not being selective. Not like vampires usually are.
You know how they normally operate. The stronger the person, the stronger the fledgling.
But in this area?” Remy turns the laptop around and shows me a map of Chicago.
I instantly recognize it. The bar Ansley frequents is at the northern edge of the zone Remy has highlighted.
“There have been a lot of disappearances in this area, especially in the southern part.”
“That’s just the ones who have been reported,” Storm adds. “That part of Chicago? A lot of them never get reported.”
“Fuck,” I snarl. “We have to move against them soon. If this is where they’re hunting, their nest has to be close. If we don’t deal with them before the Crimson Templars catch wind of a vampire brood in Chicago, they’ll come here to exterminate them, and we could be exposed.”
“I’m working on that. Storm has set up surveillance cameras. I’m going to do some reconnaissance in that area tonight,” Remy says. “See what I can find. I might take Wyatt with me, since he’s better at picking up scents. It’s hard to pick up a vampire’s trail unless they’ve recently fed.”
“I’ll leave that to you,” Storm says. “I’ll be ready to fight when the time comes, but I’ve got my hands full managing our finances. Speaking of, are both you still doing okay? I can sell some crypto if you’re running low.”
“I’m fine,” I say, staring at the screen. Remy nods in agreement. I turn towards the door. “Okay, I’ll wait to hear from you. I’ll be out tonight, in the northern part, so I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”
“Does the other Scion have something to do with that?” Remy questions.
“Other Scion?” Storm raises a brow, looking between us. “What other Scion? And why am I just hearing about this?”
“Because I don’t know what she is,” I admit, turning back around and heaving a long sigh. “Not exactly. She’s a Scion. That much I know. But what kind of Scion is still a mystery.”
“Even more reason for the pack to be aware of this, Hayden,” Storm growls. “How do you know for sure she’s a Scion? If you got her scent, you should know what she is.”
“He got more than her scent,” Remy says, leaning back. “Tell him everything, Hayden.”
I growl under my breath, but I don’t hide things from my brothers.
Our bond may not be as strong as it used to be, but we’re still a pack, even if we don’t operate like one anymore except in times like this.
We’re all that’s left of our bloodline. We stay together because the alternative is worse than death: being the last of our kind and alone.
Explaining it is difficult, but I bring Storm up to speed. How faint her scent was in the bar. How hard it was to look away. The difficulty maintaining my Third Form. The pull I feel when I’m away from her. The instincts that scream when I’m close.
“Damn, Hayden. What you’re describing…” Storm trails off, conflict radiating in his grey eyes. “You think you could mate with her? Breed her like a she-wolf?”
“My instincts think so,” I answer him in a deep rumble. “And if they’re right, we may not be as close to extinction as we feared.”
“Impossible,” Remy says. “I still feel that ache in my soul. The one that nearly tore us apart when the last she-wolf fell in battle.”
“As do I,” Storm adds. “It’s never gone away. That feeling of impending doom, like a clock ticking towards the final hour of our kind.”
“Like I said, I don’t know what she is. That’s part of why I’m keeping tabs on her.
But I’m feeling something different now instead of impending doom.
I’m scared to call it hope, but…” I shake my head.
“The vampires take priority. We’ve got a plan.
As soon as we find their nest, we move against them.
Hopefully, we’ll get rid of this problem before it turns into one that brings the Crimson Templars back to Chicago. ”
“Are we doing this as a pack?” Storm asks, looking at Remy, then at me. “Because if we are, someone has to talk to Jaxton.”
There’s silence for a moment. Silence that says a lot about the brother who rarely visits the Den. Remy and Storm look at me. I’m the Alpha. If the pack needs to be brought back together for this fight, I’m the one expected to lead.
“I’ll do it,” I growl, turning away. “Let me know if you find out anything new.”
My brothers probably think I’m going to talk to Jaxton. I will, but not yet.
His scars are deeper than ours. He’ll fight by our side, but it isn’t because he cares about protecting the city. He’d be fine if the Crimson Templars returned to Chicago. He still wants his revenge, his mountain of Templar corpses, even if it costs him his life.
But we’ll need him. He’s the strongest next to me. I only became an Alpha because I was the oldest surviving member of the pack after our father fell. Jaxton was born to be one, though. Stronger, fiercer, more dominant than I ever was, especially after he fell in love with Joanna.
They weren’t true mates, but love can be just as strong. He was already becoming an Alpha when she died, and that made his potential wither. Her death brought more than anger and grief. It turned our brother into something dangerous, impulsive, and brutal.
Exactly what we need if we’re going to take down a vampire maker.
When the time comes, I’ll make sure he’s by our side.
Until then, my instincts scream for me to be as close to Ansley as possible.