2-BOUNTY

Three figures stepped out of the shadows, like they owned the night itself. Their attention was focused on Rose, moving like predators who had already chosen their target.

She sized them up, weighing the risks, threats, and outcome quickly.

The woman on the left was tall and blonde. Nothing about her was soft. She looked flawless, with sharp cheekbones and a cold, judging stare.

The man on the right moved with ease. Dark hair, strong features, the kind of face people trusted too quickly before they realized their mistake. His attention flicked over Rose once, measuring, then settled into something more watchful.

Her focus locked on the one in the middle.

Broad shoulders, long lines of muscle beneath a dark coat, height that made him tower over most men. Ink traced up the side of his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. He looked like a Viking hell god in the flesh.

His gaze settled on her, and the awareness slid under her skin and stayed there.

Her grip loosened slightly, and the sack dropped at her feet with a dull wet thud.

Her eyes dragged back to him.

“You the wolf?” His voice rolled out low, rough around the edges.

“That depends on who’s asking.”

A faint shift touched his mouth, not quite a smile, more a recognition of something he found interesting.

“Where is Lucas?”

The name settled things quickly.

So this was who Luke answered to. 

“He’s busy,” she said. “You’ve got me.”

Midnight’s gaze flicked to the sack, then back up. Slow and deliberate.

“You’re right on time.”

“I usually am.”

He stepped closer, and the space between them altered in a way she could not quite explain.  Something in the air shifted, like a line had been crossed that most people would not notice.

“You don’t smell like a wolf,” he said.

Rose shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned on the surface.

“Maybe you don’t know what you’re smelling.”

He circled her then, not in a way that suggested caution, but in a way that suggested he already knew she was not a threat he needed to worry about.

Or maybe he knew she was.

“You’re like him,” he said as he moved. 

Rose tracked him without turning her head, aware of every inch of space he took.

“Half-breed,” he added.

“Yeah.”

“And you hunt your own kind.”

“Only the ones that deserve it. I fucking detest rogues.”

That seemed to settle something for him.

“I find you interesting.”

She glanced briefly toward the other two. Neither had moved nor spoken. They simply stared at her in an unsettling way.

She looked back at him.

“You wanted the job done,” she said. “Proof’s in the bag.”

He stopped in front of her again, close enough now that she could see the detail in his eyes.

“Show me.”

Rose bent, picked up the sack, and pulled the head free by the hair. The rogue’s face hung slack, the life long gone from it.

“He’s not getting back up,” she said.

He moved then, so fast her eyes barely tracked him.

One moment, the head was in her hand, the next it was gone.

He tossed it sideways without looking.

“Catch Bianca, you recognize him?”

The woman caught it cleanly.

She turned it slightly, examining it with quiet precision, as if it were nothing more than an object to be assessed.

The man beside her stepped closer, his gaze dropping to the wound.

“That’s him, Kaelyn,” he said, his voice smooth, controlled.

She noted Midnight’s name. Kaelyn.

Rose straightened slowly, her attention already back on the man in front of her.

He was closer again.

“There’s something wild about you, the type of exotic beauty I haven’t seen in a wolf before,” he said.

His gaze moved over her, deliberate, unhurried, taking in details most people missed.

“Maybe if I had,” he continued, quieter now, “I wouldn’t have killed so many of your kind.”

Rose held his gaze without giving him anything back.

“Not all wolves are worth saving.”

A dangerous curve touched his mouth.

“No,” he agreed. “They’re not.”

His hand lifted, and for a second, she considered stepping back.

She did not; she held her ground.

His fingers brushed her jaw, large warm hands. Just the pad of his thumb was tracing the edge of her jaw.

The vision slammed into her.

Skin on skin, sweat. His mouth on her throat, teeth scraping. Her back arched as her legs locked around his hips, his hand in her hair, while she gasped his name like a curse. Kaedyn. It was raw, filthy, perfect. The kind of need that left marks.

It vanished as fast as it hit.

Her breath stuttered. Short, sharp pulls she couldn’t hide. Heat pooled low in her belly, sudden and traitorous.

Midnight kept his fingers on her jaw, eyes locked on hers. That half-grin deepened, like he’d felt the spark too.

She forced her lungs to work. Was it her gift? Or something he did with his touch? She couldn’t tell. Didn’t know if he’d seen the same flash of them tangled and desperate.

He dragged his hand back, brought those same fingers to his nose, and inhaled.

His brow creased.

“You really don’t smell like wolf.” The words came slowly, almost wondering. “Roses.”

Rose blinked once, forcing her breath to come naturally.

“That’s my name.”

His eyes lifted back to hers.

“Rose,” he repeated, and the way he said it made something low in her chest tighten in a way she did not appreciate.

“Fitting.”

She forced her focus back where it belonged.

“Your bounty.”

His attention lingered a moment longer before he inclined his head slightly toward the man beside him.

“It has already been transferred to Lucas.”

“That works for me.”

There was something in it that did not sit comfortably.

“You’re not what I expected.”

Rose exhaled slowly.

“Right back at you.”

He checked his watch then, precise in the movement.

“Shame. I have somewhere to be, and I don’t like being...late.”

He turned without another word, the other two falling in beside him as if the decision had already been made before he spoke it.

He turned back once, calling out.

“I hope we cross paths again, Rose.” 

Then they simply moved into the dark and were gone.

Rose stood there for a moment, longer than she should have, her body still keyed to something that had not quite settled.

She watched them go, then moved away, back down the alley towards her bike. She let herself calm. Then, reaching around for her helmet, dropped her keys.

Then she bent to claim them, where they had slipped near the back wheel.

Her fingers closed around them.

She straightened and went still.

The blonde woman, Bianca, stood beside her bike, and Rose realized she had not heard her coming.

Close enough that Rose could see the fine detail of her expression, the smooth perfection of her features, and the way her eyes held a quiet, unmistakable malice.