TWENTY SIX

HUNTER’s POV

MOMENTS BEFORE THE HOWL

Ezekiel’ residence looms ahead of me. He lives in a pristine colonial-style mansion with an endless sea of trimmed lawn and fancy cars; a stark contrast to the muddly slums the villagers around him survive in. My lips curl downwards into a snarl and I shake my head in disgust. It is people like Ezekiel who give werewolves a bad name.

Liam joins me, having combed parts of the village streets already. He shakes his head when he sees me looking at him.

“No sign of Clyde,” he says.

I frown and step forward onto his freshly mowed lawn. All around us, men suddenly pour out, all ready to shift. But one look at my face and they cower. They know very well who I am.

One of them mouths, “Storm Rider’s Alpha….” and quickly runs back to the mansion, his arms flailing as he shouts to alert his own alpha. It doesn’t matter, I walk on