Chapter 3 Nick
NICK
FIVE YEARS LATER
My old truck rattled like it might shake apart as I bumped down the rutted dirt road my lieutenant swore was the right one.
Dust swirled in the headlights. The air inside the cab was thick with the smell of old coffee and motor oil, and the chicken-scratch map in my lap was more scribble than sense. I fought the urge to tear it in half.
My wolf growled in my head, hot, sharp, the sound vibrating through my chest. Anger. Distrust. My grip on the wheel tightened until the leather bit into my palms.
“Get the fuck back down.”
He didn’t retreat right away. I could feel him staring at me from somewhere deep, his presence heavy. Hot breath ghosted the inside of my ribs before he huffed and sank away.
Six weeks, and the bastard still felt like an intruder under my skin. He could yank my emotions, my body, in any direction he wanted. It was like living with a loaded gun pressed against my spine.
You never should have saved her. You ruined your life for nothing, and now you’re this… this thing.
The voice slithered through my skull, cold and bitter. I clamped down on it, shoving it into the deepest, darkest crevices. I had a job to focus on, one only I could do.
Light bled through the trees ahead. I pressed the gas, the hum of the engine turning into a growl under my feet. The road curved, and floodlights slammed into my eyes, searing my retinas.
A steel gate loomed out of the dark. I slowed, gravel crunching under the tires. The lights stayed locked on me as a big, bald guy with an AK-47 slung across his chest stepped up, boots thudding against the packed dirt. He motioned for the window.
I drew a slow breath, lungs straining against the weight in my chest, before rolling it down. Hopefully, he couldn’t hear the hammering of my heart.
The scent hit first, feral, wild, tinged with wet earth and magic. My wolf stirred, rumbling low. Werewolf.
“Lost?” he growled. His voice was deep enough to feel in my bones. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
I shook my head, forcing a lazy, cocky smile onto my face.
“Nah. Jesse sent me.” I pulled the wad of cash from my pocket, the bills warm and soft from my body heat, and flashed it. “Said there’s good action here.”
His eyes lit like a matchhead at the sight of money. “Jessie Logan? He coming tonight?”
He leaned in, and that overpowering smell of wildness and fur assaulted my senses. My mind scrambled for an answer, and the beast inside lunged forward. I blinked, and the cab seemed to sharpen. Shadows snapped into focus, every pore on his skin visible, then it was gone. Back to normal.
“Just… me tonight.”
The man’s frown shifted into a smirk. “Sure. Pull up and park. See Raven to place your bet.” His eyes flashed bright yellow before dulling again, his beast retreating like mine had earlier.
With a casual wave, he motioned for the gate. My gut dropped.
I didn’t know who the hell he was talking about, but a name was something. I’d start digging, see what kind of dirt clung to this Zeth.
Past the lights, a large building squatted low against the night, surrounded by cars, their metal shining underneath the moonlit night.
I rolled in and found a spot, the engine ticking as I cut it.
Be likable. Make connections. Show strength. Supes only respect strength.
The moment I opened the door, sounds hit me—cheers, shouts, the thud of flesh on flesh. The metallic tang of blood rode the humid night air. My wolf bristled, hackles prickling under my skin, and excitement bloomed from my chest.
Behave, I told him. I didn't want anyone to know I was freshly made. Supes were naturally suspicious, and I didn't want to spook them.
Too many mothers had been pounding on my captain’s door, swearing their kids were being dragged into these fights, coming home bruised and broken. Supes didn’t have cops, just the Syndicate, a crime family that played by its own rules.
So the captain sent me, said keeping me after the change was “for the betterment of humanity.”
My wolf growled at that, but the captain was right.
When it came to supes, you used whatever weapons you had.
They were untouchable by law, protected by that damn federal treaty.
In Flathead County, if we didn’t handle them ourselves, no one would, which meant we had to use whatever means possible—even a human cop who had recently turned because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Being useful was all I had left. No human cop wanted to be paired with a monster. They had made that painfully clear.
The hate notes left on my desk. The way they parted around me in the hallway, backs stiff, eyes flicking anywhere but my face. The whispers, the dry hiss of my name like a curse. Their fear clung to me the way damp clothes stick to skin—heavy, cold, impossible to shake.
Even Faith, my girlfriend of two years—now ex-girlfriend—couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand me.
The memory of her recoiling when I touched her, pupils blown wide with panic, still gutted me. She had looked at me like I was a monster. I didn’t blame her for moving out that first week after my change, but, fuck, it still ripped something out of me.
Flexing my hands, I experienced the ghostly sensation of claws shimmering just beneath the skin, ready to pop out. I could almost feel the weight of them, the sharp bite of air they’d slice through if I lost control.
This job was my only shot to prove I was worth something, that I wasn’t just a savage beast hidden beneath human skin. I could feel it in my bones. I could protect. I could save. That was all I’d ever wanted. To pull people out of the dark even if I had to stand in it to do so.
That thought was a steel rod down my spine as I walked toward the building looming in the night.
The wood was too clean, too strong, smelling faintly of fresh-cut lumber instead of rot.
The massive doors were thrown wide, spilling warm, golden light that bled into the gravel outside as if daring me to come closer.
Crossing the threshold was like stepping into a storm.
Noise slammed into me—shouting, stamping feet, the metallic screech of bleachers shifting under restless bodies.
The air was thick with heat and sweat, a humid press of flesh and magic.
Metal stands were packed in tight rows holding countless bodies whose attention was pointed toward the dirt ring below.
I shoved my way through, the scrape of coats and rough fabric dragging across my arms, the invading breath of strangers brushing my cheek. Two fighters circled each other in the ring, their feet stirring dust into the air as the crowd howled for blood.
“Bite him, you big lug!”
“Dodge! Don’t let that right hook in!”
“Quit dancing! Give us blood!”
The beast under my skin jolted, ears pricking, eager as an unchained pup.
My senses fractured under the weight of the room.
A cold, stale scent like damp soil packed into a grave slid into my nose.
I turned, tracking it, and found a pale man glaring at the fight, his jaw tight enough to snap, his knuckles white from grasping crumpled betting slips.
Vampire, my wolf murmured, the word curling in my head with the invasive and inescapable nature of smoke.
Then… flowers. Wild and sun-warmed, tangled with something like secrets. My gaze jerked upward. A man floated above the crowd, wings outstretched, beating the air in time with his shouted encouragement.
Fairy, my wolf added.
No shit, I thought. I can see the wings.
I moved sideways through the press of bodies, every shift of air against my skin telling me where people were, how close they stood.
A caged-off corner reeked of human sweat and cheap cologne.
A human bookie called out numbers, his voice cracking with greed, while hands shoved money through the bars.
Humans here, in this? Risking their lives for a payout?
We told them to stay away, to live in their own neighborhoods, shop at human-owned stores, and keep a healthy distance from anyone with magic in their blood. Flicking my eyes around, I could see that either our warnings meant nothing… or money and a magical high were worth more than survival.
A sharp, smoky burn scraped down my throat.
The scent curled in my lungs, a gasp that tasted like a bonfire came out, and I coughed.
A woman with black hair turned toward me, her eyes spilling into tendrils of smoke before snapping back to normal.
She winked, laughter spilling from her mouth like sweet poison.
Demon.
Yeah, I thought, I figured that one out, too.
The room pressed in. My wolf rumbled, expressing his desire to roll around in all these new sights and sounds, and the sound vibrated through my ribs.
My fingertips tingled with the urge to shift.
I spotted an empty row at the top of the stands and climbed, every step easing the pressure a fraction.
From above, the chaos sharpened into something almost orderly. In the center ring, a fairy female with hair like orange flames crumpled under a banshee’s scream, clutching her head as fists rained down. Blood splattered the dirt, copper-sharp and hot in the air.
At first, I flinched, prepared to cover my ears, but every time she screamed, a ripple of magic shone around the ring. A barrier.
Bruised and battered, the fairy pulled herself up and flew off. Once the announcer claimed the banshee as the winner, a set of males came out, boasted a bit, then shifted into wolves. Their snarls rattled the metal rails before they charged at each other.