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Chapter 50 — Teeth and Leverage
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2025-10-26 09:25:51Finch didn’t even bother with ceremony this time.
Just a knock, an envelope, and a single line:
“You’ve got a month to finish, wolf. ”
Inside were photographs that smelled of old ink and betrayal. His sister on a front porch, smiling. His brother leaning against a truck. The kind of images you take when you don’t know someone’s watching. The kind you take to prove ownership.
He’d told himself for years they were safe—different names, different towns, cash under the table, no trails. He’d bought their distance with blood.
Now the hunters had found them.
Finch’s
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Shadows and First Blood Chapter 52 — The Night Stretched Thin
She didn’t sleep after the phone call.Not really. She lay still beneath the blanket while the rain kept time against the window and the clock chewed minutes into dust. Every sound became a language she tried to translate—the refrigerator hum, the pipes knocking, the soft scrape of his boots in the hall.When Matrix finally left for “work,” she counted to five hundred before she moved.The apartment felt different in daylight, like the light itself didn’t want to be there.His words kept replaying: three weeks… finish it soon.Finish what? Her? The hunters? A job she wasn’t supposed to know existed?She started searching wit
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 51 — The Quiet Between Footsteps
Three weeks.That’s all it took for the silence in Matrix’s apartment to learn her name.At first, it was easy to pretend this was what she’d wanted—warm light, full cupboards, someone else’s heartbeat to fall asleep to. He cooked, he laughed, he looked at her like she was something rare. She let herself believe in the normalcy because normal was a luxury she hadn’t tasted in years.Then the edges started to change.It was small things:the way he double-checked the locks after she’d already done it,the way her phone began to “lose signal” every time he walked into the room,how
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 50 — Teeth and Leverage
Finch didn’t even bother with ceremony this time.Just a knock, an envelope, and a single line:“You’ve got a month to finish, wolf. ”Inside were photographs that smelled of old ink and betrayal. His sister on a front porch, smiling. His brother leaning against a truck. The kind of images you take when you don’t know someone’s watching. The kind you take to prove ownership.He’d told himself for years they were safe—different names, different towns, cash under the table, no trails. He’d bought their distance with blood.Now the hunters had found them.Finch’s
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 49 — The Wolf at the Door
The city pulsed under his skin like a fever that never broke.New York wasn’t made for creatures like him; it smelled too much of iron and asphalt, too many heartbeats layered on top of one another. Every alley carried a whisper of prey, every rooftop the memory of flight. Matrix moved through it with the patience of a hunter who had already died once and learned that the only thing worse than dying was being caught living wrong.The hunters had dropped him here with a name and a promise.SILVER.That was all the file said in bold at the top of the page. The rest was rumor—vampire, female, operative turned rogue, responsible for the death of Lieutenant Harker. No photos that matched the stories, no verified sightings, just a
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 48 — The Offer
He’d been running for three days before they found him.Rain, alley grit, the taste of iron in his mouth; that was the rhythm of his life then. He’d left the pack behind in British Columbia after the last hunt went bad—two hunters dead, one wolf torn open, everyone blaming everyone else. Matrix had learned early that loyalty only worked if the others were still breathing.So when the black van cut across the street and boxed him in, he didn’t fight. He waited, crouched low, muscles coiled. The doors opened and the smell of silver hit him like frostbite.“Matrix,” a voice said. “You’re hard to track.”The man who stepped out wore hunter black but not the usual mercenary scowl. He looked like
Shadows and First Blood Chapter 47 — The Lock and the Lie
Morning bled through the blinds in thin, watery lines.For a second, I forgot where I was. The ceiling wasn’t cracked in the same places as mine, the air didn’t smell of dust and coffee. It smelled of him—cedar, iron, rain.Matrix’s side of the bed was already empty. A half-folded shirt lay on the chair, his boots lined up like soldiers at parade rest. Everything in this apartment obeyed him; even the silence seemed disciplined.I slipped from the sheets, hunting for my jeans. If I moved quickly, maybe I could catch the bus to O’Rourke & Finch before he noticed.Normalcy—that was the plan. Go to work, restock the shelves, breathe in old paper until the world made sense again.The door handle didn’t tu
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