Kendra’s heart thundered against her chest, fueled by a tempest of emotions—anger, jealousy, disgust—swirling into a volatile storm as she stormed toward her car. This was what she wanted. It was what she’d told herself she wanted: for her sister to find someone worthy, someone better, and it didn’t get much better than the Beta’s son. Jake was polite, dependable, and annoyingly handsome—everything their Pack could hope for in a mate.
She’d known him since he was a kid and watched him grow into a man. It would be him if she had to pick anyone for her sister. So why did she feel like ramming her fist through the nearest wall? Her jaw clenched as she yanked open the car door and slid behind the wheel. She slammed it shut with enough force to make the entire car shudder, then started the engine. The tires screeched as she sped off into the night, the engine's roar a poor mask for the roar inside her head. She wasn’t just trying to escape her feelings; she was fleeing them like a prey animal chased by the hounds of hell. But the feelings clung to her, suffocating and relentless, like a bad scent she couldn’t scrub away. She needed relief. She needed escape. The neon glow of the bar’s sign called to her like a lighthouse in a storm. She parked her car haphazardly and strode toward the entrance, her boots striking the pavement with purpose. The moment she walked through the door, the warm hum of chatter and the familiar strains of classic rock greeted her. The room was dimly lit, its smoky atmosphere a haven for the lost and the restless. Heads turned. They always did when Kendra entered a room. She ignored the stares, brushing them off as easily as a leaf on her shoulder. Her focus was singular: the bar. Sliding onto a stool, she fixed her gaze on the bartender. Kendra’s emotions were always reflected in her eyes; tonight, they were a deep, stormy blue tinged with an unnatural glow. The bartender faltered under her intensity, caught between awe and unease. “Martini. Straight. Shaken, not stirred,” she ordered, her tone as cool and precise as a blade. “Feeling like James Bond tonight?” he teased, though the nervous quiver in his voice betrayed him. Kendra’s expression didn’t waver. She stared him down, unblinking, until his forced smile withered. He turned his focus to making her drink, shaking the mixer vigorously as though hoping to impress her. He placed the glass in front of her moments later, the dark liquid shimmering under the bar’s muted lights. “Here you go,” he said, his tone cautious. Kendra downed it in one go, her throat burning, but she welcomed the fire. “Another,” she demanded, her voice flat but edged with simmering anger. The bartender hesitated, but a quick glance at her face told him better. He got to work immediately. As he mixed the second drink, a man with sleeve tattoos and the distinct swagger of inebriation approached. The smell of cheap whiskey clung to him like a second skin. Without permission, he slung an arm around Kendra’s shoulder, his grin sloppy and lecherous. “Hello, pretty lady. What’s a beauty like you doing here all alone?” he slurred, his voice loud enough to draw the attention of nearby patrons. The room grew quieter. All eyes turned toward them, curiosity sparking as they waited to see how the icy-looking woman would handle the unwanted attention. Kendra’s body stiffened. She hated being touched without consent. She hated it more when it was someone like him. “You have thirty seconds to remove your hand,” she said, her voice calm but laced with menace, “or I’ll break it.” The man blinked, then chuckled, his drunken bravado fueling his stupidity. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” he crooned, leaning closer. His breath reeked of alcohol and stale cigarettes. “You just need a real man to loosen you up—” Before he could finish, Kendra was out of her seat. Her hand shot out, gripping his wrist like a vice. With a swift, practiced motion, she twisted his arm until it bent at an unnatural angle. The sickening snap of bone echoed through the bar, followed by the man’s piercing scream. The room collectively winced, a few patrons muttering curses under their breath. But Kendra was unmoved. Her grip remained firm, her expression cold and detached. “Please! I’m sorry!” the man cried, tears streaming down his face. Kendra leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. “Next time, don’t touch anyone without their permission—especially a woman. We’re not your playthings. Do you understand?” The man nodded frantically, choking on his sobs. “Say it,” she demanded. I understand!” The man screamed at the top of his voice. Kendra shook her head. “No, say I will treat women with the respect they deserve from now on.” The man hesitated, and Kendra twisted his arm further to motivate him. “I will treat women with the respect they deserve,” he screamed again, his eyes filling with fresh tears. “I am glad to have helped educate you tonight,” Kendra flashed him a cold smile that sent shivers down the spine of most people in the room. They gawked at her like she was an apparition . Kendra’s lips curled into a chilling smile. “Good.” She released him, letting him collapse to the floor in a heap. As she turned to leave, his trembling voice muttered, “Bitch.” Kendra stopped mid-step. Slowly, she turned back to him, her piercing gaze freezing him in place. Without a word, she delivered a swift, brutal kick to his face. His head lolled as unconsciousness claimed him. She walked out of the door leaving most of the patrons with their jaws on floor as they wondered how a slip of a girl like her could take out a man with several pounds on her. Outside, the cold night air hit her face as her phone buzzed in her pocket. Kendra took out the device and opened the message. A predatory smile twisted her lips as she read the message. Despite the little workout she just had in there, it wasn't enough to calm her emotions. She needed more excitement, and it seemed the moon goddess has done something right tonight. She got into her car and drove like she was in a car chase back to her building. She took the ten flight of stairs to her apartment, instead of using the lift, without breaking a sweat. She swiped her card and hurried into her house. Her house was spotless, everything in order. You wouldn't believe someone lives in the house from how neat and orderly the house looked. Kendra walked her way barefooted on the cold tiled floor to her room, where she shed her party clothes for her hunting ones. A black combat wear, with black combat boots. She threw on a black leather jacket over the black vest. She pressed a hidden button on her closet to cause it to move and reveal her weapons hidden behind. Several kinds of guns, knives were displayed on the wall. She took one assault rifle off the wall, two handguns, and loads of silver bullets which she tucked into the several pockets in her pants. She took four silver knives off the wall and tucked them into her boots. “Let’s go hunt some rogues,” Kendra said to wolf, her voice echoing the excitement bubbling inside her. This is exactly what the doctor prescribed to cure the matters of the heart. Her contact just messaged her that he spotted a group of rogues outside the city, and Kendra is going to check it out. She is hoping to get some information on the one she hunts, if not she will settle on killing some rogues tonight, either way she will definitely not be thinking about her sister, or who she is with when the night is over. Kendra drove toward the outskirts of the city, her stereo blasting hard rock that thumped in rhythm with her adrenaline. The aggressive beats mirrored the storm inside her, pushing away the intrusive thoughts clawing at her mind. Silence was her enemy tonight—it would only let her thoughts drift back to her sister and the Beta’s son, and she wasn’t ready to confront the emotions that simmered beneath her tough exterior. The city lights faded in her rearview mirror, giving way to an eerie quiet that seemed to press in from all sides. The hum of her car engine and the pounding music became her only companions as the streets emptied, leaving only the occasional car to break the monotony of the long road ahead. Trees loomed on either side of the highway, their dark silhouettes stretching endlessly into the horizon. Yet, she drove on, her hands gripping the wheel tightly, her focus unshaken. Her wolf stirred restlessly, a prickling sensation crawling beneath her skin. “What is it, Trix?” Kendra asked, her voice low. “I don’t know,” her wolf replied, her tone uncertain. The unease was unusual, a faint warning that neither of them could decipher. Kendra sighed, her knuckles whitening as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Relax. We’ll be there soon. Then it’ll be action, just the way we like it.” Trix tried to obey, but the discomfort lingered like a shadow. Despite her unease, the wolf stayed silent, unwilling to undermine Kendra’s determination. As the miles ticked by, the landscape began to change. Scattered houses appeared on the roadside, their windows glowing faintly in the distance. Civilization was creeping back in, but the isolated nature of this stretch of road still carried an unsettling weight. Kendra reached for the volume knob, turning her music off as she neared her destination. The silence that followed was deafening, amplifying the crunch of her tires on the gravel as she passed a gas station and a small departmental store. Ahead, the faint neon sign of the diner came into view, flickering like a dying firefly. Across from the diner stood a rundown motel, its exterior worn like an old mill. Kendra parked her car in front of the diner, scanning the building with a keen eye before stepping out. Her boots crunched against the gravel, and the weight of her weapons tucked into her combat gear felt reassuring. The diner looked deceptively normal—a weathered sign, chipped paint on the doorframe, and dusty windows that distorted the faint light within. She strode to the entrance with purpose, her boots clicking against the pavement. Without hesitation, she kicked the door open, the sudden bang echoing like a gunshot in the quiet night. Inside, a handful of men sat scattered across the room. At first glance, they appeared unremarkable—just a group of drifters grabbing a late-night meal. But there was a tension in the air, a coiled energy that set Kendra on edge. They sat too still, their movements too deliberate, as if waiting for something—or someone. “Hello, boys,” Kendra greeted, her voice honeyed yet sharp enough to slice through the charged atmosphere. Her eyes swept over the room, her lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. A few of the men exchanged glances, their gazes briefly flicking over her form. Kendra wasn’t blind to the effect she had; her striking features and commanding presence always drew attention. But she wasn’t here for admiration. “I told you she would come! Now can you let me go?” The whiny voice drew Kendra’s attention to the far corner. Her informant—Jonas—was held tightly between two burly men. His pale face was slick with sweat, his glasses askew. His nasally voice wavered with desperation, though he tried to mask it with annoyance. Kendra’s eyes narrowed as she noticed the two men restraining him. Their glowing red eyes betrayed their true nature—rogues. Her chest tightened as she realized she just walked into a trap.
