Chapter 15

I spent the afternoon wandering through the forest after carefully cutting back some of the fireheart, leaving some leaves to die.

I was trying to re-calculate my plan, and sitting inside made everything seem more jumbled. My plans were vague, at best, and that used to be an advantage. I saw how hard it was to stick to something concrete, especially when death was involved.

I wasn’t naive enough to believe that there wouldn’t be external involvement. I just banked on Alpha Raymond’s arrogance for a bit longer. I didn’t think that someone outside would send someone in.

I wished I could find out who sent The Hunter and who their spies were. In the end, it didn’t matter much. My mask was airtight even when talking to the Omegas.

Alpha Raymond called him, so he must not have been part of this pack. Even if I could sneak into his office and retrieve a number from his office phone, what would I do with it?

No, it wasn’t a thread that needed to be followed. I knew The Hunter was here against Alpha Raymond's wishes, and I could use that. That was all I needed.

I would wait for my wolf in case I had to make an escape.

Then Dominick would die, so Hudson would start to fear. Then Nolan, just to get him out of the way. Next would be Luna Addison, so she would have time to properly feel unparalleled grief and be consumed by it. Hudson would be after, and I would possibly enjoy it the most.

Finally, Alpha Raymond after knowing that someone was coming for him. There would be no doubts that he would be next, even in his own arrogant mind. Then my justice would be complete.

Those thoughts warmed me against the chill as I made my way back to the pack house. I would need to procure a few invites in the next few days, so I should start to get ready.

***

A sharp knock that I didn’t recognize pulled me from my thoughts. I put down the brush; something about brushing my hair helped me sort through my thoughts as if I were untangling them as well.

“Come in,” I called in a soft voice that was barely perceptible.

The door opened, and the Hunter stood in the door frame. I began calling him the Hunter because it made him seem less human. He was one-dimensional in my mind. He was here to try to find me, but I would ensure that he would be dead before he could even start sniffing in the right direction.

I widened my eyes before focusing on my brush. I hunched my shoulders in a bit, a movement that I tried to copy from Tia. She was so naturally skittish it awed me, but I had to remember that she wasn’t acting, and that thought ate at me.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” his rich voice offered. Offend me? I peered up at him, blinking. “When I asked about your pack,” he explained.

“You didn’t.” I shook my head, and some of my midnight hair fell over my shoulder. “The memories, they still hurt.” I didn’t have to fake the pain that rippled across my features. I let the pain show. It was real and raw, not a whisper like it was when I tried to fake it.

“I understand.” His voice softened, and I met his gaze. His jaw ticked, and anger and hurt seemed to flash in his eyes even though his face remained impassive.

“Do you?” I asked. I genuinely wanted to know, but I didn’t understand why. “Never mind,” I added. He couldn’t become human.

It was easy to kill the others, the ones that I assigned a trait to that became them. The visiting Beta was an evil, entitled man.

That counselor that called my pack scum, well, he was scum himself.

The visiting Alpha’s son was an attempted rapist. Probably an actual rapist.

Dalton, well, Dalton was personal. But he was an abuser, not just to me but to his fated mate.

They all were abusers.

Whether physical, sexual, or power, it didn’t matter—The world was better without their entitlement.

“I do. In a sense, at least,” he went on, and I tried to ignore him. “I never knew my parents.” I let out a breath, bracing for his sob story.

Thankfully, he didn’t go on, and I wasn’t going to press him for information, even if I was curious. I was so insatiably bored I realized the most real conversation I had in years was with Dalton on his deathbed, and that was one-sided. I suppressed a laugh at the thought.

“Something funny?” the Hunter asked, his voice cold and hard again.

My gaze snapped to his blue and brown eyes. His face gave nothing away, something that I thought I had mastered. Did I accidentally let my face curl into a smile? I glanced back at the mirror.

I would have to be even more careful.

No one watched me closely anymore. I had to remember he was not only new but he was paid to watch the things others long forgot. I was seen as someone who couldn’t be trusted, and I would have to remember how I acted when I was first let out of the prison that was this room.

“I apologize,” I said. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My face held, thankfully, nothing.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the room. I knew he wasn’t asking to sit down for tea.

I nodded, hiding in the wall of hair I made for myself. I really didn’t want him in here. I hoped my beating heart didn’t give away the nerves of a trained assassin assessing my space. Although I didn’t have much, I had some things to hide.

I followed his motions in the mirror. He took a few steps in and turned slowly, but his eyes darted everywhere. I could tell he was calculating everything. Thankfully, the room held nothing of note. It was the same space as when I moved in, and besides my hidden carved space he couldn’t see or feel—I had checked, under the rug, there was nothing of me that even lived here.

“Do you garden?” he asked—a strange question. My brows tugged together as I slowly turned around to face him. “Or are you into dried flower arrangements?” He motioned to the windowsill.

“Yes,” I replied impassively and went back to the mirror, clutching my brush, trying to remember how to use it.

“How long have you been here?” he asked, his wide frame coming into the mirror behind me.

“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t a lie. The first few weeks or months were blurry. “A few years.”

He studied me but didn’t ask any other questions. I fought to keep up my mask that almost cracked again under his penetrating stare.

What did he see?

“Why were you spared? From Blood Moon?” he asked.

“How do you know about Blood Moon?” I asked quietly, trying to divert the conversation anywhere else. I was also insatiably curious to see what others knew of what happened. I knew that Alpha Raymond’s alliances thought the slaughter was a good thing, but I could never ascertain if others thought it was a challenge or if they knew the truth.

What did the others in our territory think? The ones we were supposed to be on good terms with? Was this man from around here? Honestly, he could be part of this pack and I would not have known.

“I was raised knowing the histories of most packs; it was a requirement. I do my research ahead of jobs.” I swore he shrugged a little.

“What pack are you from?”

“I don’t belong to a pack. I was an orphan when I was saved.” His brows tugged together slightly, and if I knew him better, I might think he was battling something internally. “I was found,” he corrected himself.

I fought the questions that bubbled up. “Now I’m part of a band of brothers; we call ourselves The Packless,” he added.

“Poetic.” It came out before I could stop myself, I clamped down on my lips.

A side of his lips tugged into a half smile, and it made him look almost human. “You’re not the first to say that,” he admitted before slipping back into his schooled neutrality. “What about you?”

His question seemed so casual and nonchalant that it would have fooled me if I were anyone else asking. “I was saved by Alpha Raymond and Luna Addison,” I repeated.

“You said that much already.”

“So why ask me again?” I tilted my head, trying to look as vacant as possible.

“I’m curious.”

“I don’t believe that,” I responded without thinking. Damnit. I kept slipping. Part of me thought he might be some sort of warlock, but he smelled full werewolf.

“You know why I’m here. I’m trying to keep you all safe. For your protection, I need to know if anyone is after you.”

I set down my brush and eyed him warily before I said, “I am the only member of my pack left living.”

It was the truth, and it cleaved open that well of pain that I suppress with anger.

“So someone had something against your pack?” he asked. “As a whole?”

I shrugged. Was it not obvious who it was? “You said you did your research,” I responded softly. You probably know more than I do.” I held my breath for his response, for maybe some insight from the outside world.

His jaw ticked. “The research was not as detailed as I would have liked,” he responded.

My stomach twisted. I was both relieved and annoyed that he didn’t have an answer or chose not to share it if he had. I didn’t know if my curiosity could suppress my grief of finding out anyway.

“Why do you think they were?” he paused, seeming to choose a word. “Attacked?”

I breathed out, letting my shoulders sag more. “People like power,” I suggested, trying to give him a sheepish smile.

His eyes softened, but his jaw hardened. “That they do.”

I sensed there was a lot to him, and I desperately wanted to ask. But it would only satiate my curiosity, nothing more. And it would make him harder to kill when I inevitably had to—inevitably being days away, if not sooner.

He nodded slightly, his head inclining slightly, and a loose strand of dark brown hair fell over his forehead. I winced internally at the humanity of it. I needed to see him as a robot—the enemy because he was.

I made up my mind to start tonight. Once I had a firm plan and I set it in motion, no sad story this orphan assassin could conjure would be enough to stop it.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, and I almost laughed at the formality.

“Of course.” I started brushing my hair again and didn’t dare look his way as he silently left the room.