Chapter 16 The Hunter Arrives (Marcus's POV)
The Whispering Pines Motel looked like it had been dying slowly since the seventies. Peeling paint, flickering neon sign, the kind of place that didn't ask questions as long as you paid cash.
Perfect.
I carried my duffel bag into room twelve, dropped it on the sagging mattress, and immediately started my setup. Laptop on the desk. Files arranged by date and location. Weapons cache hidden in the false bottom of my bag—silver bullets, wolfsbane extract, blessed iron blades. Seventeen years of hunting tools, all leading to this moment.
My phone buzzed. Text from Rodriguez, another hunter in the network: Any confirmation on the target?
I typed back: Still investigating. Will report when I have concrete intel.
The truth was, I had more than concrete intel. I had surveillance footage, eyewitness accounts, and thermal imaging that showed clear signs of supernatural activity at Thornfield Academy. The school was a hotbed—multiple shifters operating openly, probably under the guise of athletic programs.
I'd been tracking supernatural disturbances for six months, following a trail of unusual athletic performances and unexplained incidents. Each clue had pointed here, to this school, to this girl.
My target.
I opened another file—town records I'd pulled from the local administration office earlier today. Birth certificates, school enrollment, property deeds. Standard background research for any hunt.
That's when I saw it.
Student enrollment records for Thornfield Academy. Alphabetical listing.
Thorne, Ember. Age 17. Senior. Guardian: Martha Thorne (grandmother).
The name hit me like a silver bullet to the chest.
Ember.
My hands started shaking so badly I had to set down my coffee before I spilled it. I clicked on the file, pulling up more information. Date of birth: March 15. Place of birth: Silverpine Valley, Montana.
March 15. The same date. The same place.
"No." The word came out strangled. "No, that's not possible."
But the photo attached to her student ID left no room for doubt. Dark hair like her mother's. My eyes. Her mother's delicate features mixed with my stronger bone structure.
Ember. My daughter.
My baby girl, who I'd thought died seventeen years ago in the fire that took her mother.
The room tilted. I grabbed the desk edge, breathing hard, trying to process what I was seeing. She was alive. She'd been alive this whole time, raised by Martha—my mother-in-law, who'd always hated me for not being there when the attack happened.
Who'd never told me our daughter survived.
Grief crashed over me first. Seventeen years. Seventeen years I'd spent believing I'd lost everything. Seventeen years of hunting werewolves in vengeance for a daughter who wasn't dead.
Then joy, so sharp it felt like drowning. She was alive. Against all odds, my little girl had survived.
Then hope. I could see her. Talk to her. Explain what happened, why I ran, why I'd spent nearly two decades thinking she was gone.
And finally, terror.
I pulled up the town records again, searching for Martha Thorne. Found her address easily—a small house on the outskirts of town, twenty minutes from campus. The property had been in her family for forty years.
I could go there. Confront her. Demand answers about why she'd hidden Ember from me, why she'd let me believe my daughter was dead.
But showing up on her doorstep would risk exposing my hunter activities. If Martha knew what I'd become, she'd never let me near Ember. And if Ember found out her father was a werewolf hunter...
My chest tightened. What if she was supernatural? What if my daughter was the very thing I'd sworn to destroy?
I grabbed my jacket, needing air. Needing to think somewhere other than this suffocating room with its peeling wallpaper and the ghost of my dead wife staring at me from old photographs.
The motel parking lot was empty except for my truck and one other vehicle. I leaned against the hood, staring up at stars I couldn't quite see through the light pollution.
Seventeen years ago, I'd run. I'd heard the screams, saw the blood, and I'd grabbed the baby and fled like a coward while my wife died buying us time. I'd made it three miles before the fear overwhelmed me—fear of what those creatures were, fear of what they'd do if they caught us, fear of everything I didn't understand about the supernatural world.
I'd left Ember at a fire station with a note pinned to her blanket. My name, my wife's name, instructions to contact Martha Thorne. Then I'd disappeared, assumed they'd both died, and dedicated my life to hunting the monsters who'd destroyed my family.
But I hadn't destroyed my family. I had. By running. By leaving Ember with strangers instead of protecting her myself. By letting grief and vengeance turn me into something my wife would have been ashamed of.
And now my daughter was caught up in supernatural politics I couldn't begin to understand, surrounded by the very creatures I'd sworn to eliminate.
I pulled out my phone, staring at the school's main number I'd saved earlier. One call. That's all it would take. Request a meeting with my daughter, using my real name. See if Martha had told her about me, if Ember even knew she had a father.
But what would I say? "Hi, I'm the dad who abandoned you as a baby and has spent the last seventeen years killing werewolves. How's school?"
My finger hovered over the call button.
If I did this—if I approached her as her father instead of a hunter—everything changed. I couldn't complete my mission. Couldn't eliminate the supernatural threat at Thornfield if my daughter was part of it.
But I also couldn't walk away. Not now. Not knowing she was alive and in danger.
The phone rang twice before someone answered. "Thornfield Academy, how may I direct your call?"
"I need to speak with someone about arranging a meeting with a student." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "My daughter. Ember Thorne."
A pause. "And you are?"
"Marcus Thorne. Her father."
The silence that followed was loaded. "I see. Mr. Thorne, let me transfer you to our student services office. Please hold."
Elevator music filled my ear. I used the time to rehearse what I'd say. Keep it simple. Explain that I'd been out of the country, working overseas. That I'd only recently learned she was at Thornfield. That I wanted to reconnect, make up for lost time.
All lies except the last part.
"Mr. Thorne?" A new voice, older, female. "This is Mrs. Henderson in student services. I understand you're requesting a meeting with Ember Thorne?"
"That's correct."
"And you're claiming to be her father? Her biological father?"
The skepticism in her tone made sense. After seventeen years of absence, why would they believe me? "Yes. I can provide documentation—birth certificate, marriage license to her mother. Whatever you need to verify my identity."
"I see." Papers rustled in the background. "Mr. Thorne, I'm going to need to verify this information with Miss Thorne's guardian before we can proceed. Her grandmother has legal custody and would need to approve any contact."
"I understand." Martha would never approve. She'd probably warn Ember to stay away from me. "But I'd like to at least leave my contact information. In case Ember wants to reach out herself."
More rustling. "I can take down your number. But Mr. Thorne, I should warn you—Miss Thorne has had a difficult semester. We want to ensure any family contact is in her best interest."
A difficult semester. Was that code for supernatural awakening? Pack politics? Discovering she was the prophesied destroyer?
"I just want to see my daughter." The words came out raw, honest. "I've made mistakes—more than I can count. But I need her to know I'm here. That I'm alive. That I never stopped thinking about her."
Mrs. Henderson's tone softened slightly. "I'll pass along your information. But Mr. Thorne, I can't guarantee she'll contact you. After seventeen years, you can't expect—"
"I don't expect anything." I cut her off. "I just need her to have the choice. Please."
A long sigh. "Give me your number."
I recited it, along with my email address and the motel's landline. Mrs. Henderson repeated everything back, confirming accuracy.
"I'll make sure this reaches both Miss Thorne and her grandmother." She paused. "Mr. Thorne, if I may offer some advice? If Ember does reach out, be honest with her. Whatever your reasons for being absent, she deserves the truth."
The truth. That I was a hunter who'd spent seventeen years tracking and killing the very creatures she might be.
"Thank you," I said instead. "I appreciate your help."
The call ended, leaving me alone in the parking lot with my choices.
I'd done it. Made contact using my real name, not as a hunter but as a father. Now the ball was in Ember's court. She could ignore the message, never respond, and I'd have to respect that. Or she could reach out, give me a chance to explain, and maybe—maybe—I could find a way to protect her from whatever supernatural war was brewing at that school.