Chapter Two
Joanna
The rain stopped on my side of town, leaving the city streets slick under the dim glow of the streetlights. I walked briskly, my shoes echoing against the wet pavement, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
Meeting Marcus Blackwood had been… interesting. He was a werewolf, sure—a monster, just like the rest of them.
But the sorrow in his eyes was real.
I pushed open the heavy door to my loft, the familiar creak a welcome reminder that I was far from the werewolf-infested slums. Safe in the solitude of my sanctuary, where modern tech mixed with old industrial charm.
I stripped off my wet clothes, leaving them in a heap by the door, and padded across the cold concrete floor to the bathroom. The hot spray of a much-needed shower stung my skin, washing away the grime.
Wrapping a towel around myself, I sat on the edge of my bed, my eyes drifting to the framed picture on the nightstand. Latoya stared back at me, her smirk both annoying and painfully familiar. I had taken that photo just weeks before she was killed… before my world crumbled.
I closed my eyes, images of the past flooding back like a war movie… with no happy ending. The training. The countless nights spent hunting. The burning desire for revenge.
I’d been so damn proud the day I earned my tattoo—the mark of a hunter, its ink laced with magic that drew our aura to the surface. It made us fearless. It made us strong.
I’d become a hunter to avenge Toya, to rid the world of the creatures that took her from me. But tonight, seeing Marcus and hearing the pain in his voice as he talked about the victims stirred something inside me… Something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Doubt.
I opened my eyes, my gaze dropping to the silver locket hanging around my neck. Inside it was another picture of Toya. I clutched it tight, the metal biting into my palm.
“I won’t let you down.”
My phone chimed from my desk, pulling me from my thoughts. I walked over, the screen glowing with an incoming message from James.
Joey, you dead?
I smiled, typing out a quick response. Forever the optimist.
His next message came through seconds after. Update.
James Cooper was my mentor, the closest thing I had to a father since mine passed away. He was a no-nonsense man who’d taken me under his wing after Toya’s death, teaching me everything he knew about hunting werewolves. We built our relationship on mutual respect and a shared desire for vengeance.
I typed out a response, my fingers hovering over the keys for a moment before I hit send. Met the alpha. He’s agreed to help. More details soon.
I could almost hear James’s disapproving grunt through the phone. He was old-school, distrustful of werewolves. But he also knew that sometimes, the enemy of my enemy… could be used to my advantage.
I set the phone down and walked over to the large map of the slums pinned to the wall.
Marked on it were the locations of the recent killings, each one a red dot urging me to get my shit together.
Working with Marcus might’ve been the key to stopping these murders, but it also meant walking a thin line between duty and degradation.
Especially since my mind kept wandering to the way he looked standing in the rain.
I closed my eyes, my heart pounding as the image of Marcus invaded my thoughts.
His rain-soaked shirt clung to his frame, outlining every ridge and valley.
The silver streak in his dark hair dripped water onto his chiseled face.
His eyes, golden, flickering like fire, threatened to consume me.
And that damn voice—a deep rumble that resonated in my chest.
Shit.
A shiver ran down my spine, warmth pooling in my belly.
Suddenly, I could feel his breath on my neck and the whisper of his lips against my ear.
My body tingled at the thought. He was huge and emitted BDE like his aura was fucking made of it.
I had no doubt he was… well-equipped, making it easy to picture him naked and hard, his dick standing at attention, ready to slide every inch deep inside me.
My eyes snapped open.
What the fuck was I doing?
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I needed to focus. I needed to stop these murders. And if working with this fucking werewolf was part of the deal, then I’d have to keep my damn hormones in check. After all, vengeance was a round-the-clock job.
I turned away from the map, my gaze landing on my arsenal hidden behind the false wall. Guns, knives, bows—all tools of my commitment. I grabbed a knife and pressed its hilt to my neck to cool my flushed skin when my phone chimed again.
Be careful, Joey. Don’t let your guard down.
I smiled, a pang of affection for the old hunter warming my chest. Never, old man.
I threw on a nightgown and spent an hour plotting my next move.
Marcus didn’t know this, but because of him, I had a pretty good idea who the killer was.
But how was the piece of shit choosing his victims?
And where would he strike next? The sooner I figured it all out, the sooner I could ditch Alpha Marcus Blackwood and his perfect fucking body.
I would’ve been more than grateful if I never had to see that giant again.
But then my phone buzzed with a new message from James.
New victim. Same M.O. Need you to check it out ASAP.