CHAPTER 8: THE SILENT HUNT BEGINS

A few hours later, I woke up to the sound of footsteps outside the door. It must have been cracked open, because I could clearly hear the voices just beyond it.

"It should be safe to talk here. The Alphas aren’t home, but either way, let’s hurry. We don’t have much time," said a gruff voice in a rushed whisper. "Valentine called, and he needs the last two children."

What the fuck!? What did we stumble into? I could feel Cece perk up, listening closely.

"We need to wait a couple more da—" The second person, with a mousy voice, was cut off.

"No, it needs to be tonight," Gruffy snapped.

"We’ve taken 10 children in the last four months, and each time it gets harder to make it out. I barely escaped last time without getting caught. I have a feeling they’re going to catch us this time," Mousy said nervously.

"Then don’t. Get. Caught," Gruffy replied sharply, turning on his heel and walking away. Mousy took a few deep breaths before following him.

Apparently, they had no idea we were here, and we could use that to our advantage. As they left, the hallway fan wafted their scents toward us, and I added the details to my mental notes.

Gruffy, clearly the leader, is in contact with Valentine—whoever that is. He smelled like aftershave and bourbon. He sounded older, maybe late 50s to mid-60s, and when irritated, a Scottish accent slipped through. Subtle when calm, but noticeable when angry.

Mousy sounded female, mid-20s, with a scent like rose and pear layered over grapefruit and vetiver—probably her perfume. My gut told me not to underestimate her. Behind that sweet tone, she was likely a bitch with a capital B. Gruffy might be the only one she listened to.

Cece, we need to find out where we are and who they are. Maybe someone can give us a tour so we can sniff them out when we get back.

This changes everything. Why hasn’t anyone mentioned kidnappings here? I thought Urk was just setting up, but clearly not. Children are missing.

"Ten children, Maxann. At least ten are missing," Cece said, her voice full of sorrow.

Hey, it’s okay, Cece, I said, trying to calm her. After a little encouragement, she steadied.

Then I kicked into pep talk mode. Listen up, Cece. We’re waking up tonight and following them to those kids. We’re not letting this lead slip away. So do what you have to do to get us moving. We can’t wait until tomorrow.

As I spoke, her resolve hardened. I could feel it.

Cece broke through the last of the poison. Then, I carefully removed the feeding tube, IV, and catheter without further injury.

"Okay, slowly now. Try to stand up," Cece coached. "It’s been a while. Your body needs to adjust."

I sat up too fast and got dizzy, so I lay back down until the spinning stopped. Then, slowly, I sat up again. When upright and steady, I slid down the bed and swung my legs over the side. I waited for the tingling in my legs and feet to subside.

Using the bedpost for support, I stood on shaky legs. After a few minutes to adjust, I took a step—and my leg gave out. Only the bedpost saved me from faceplanting. I stood still a while longer and wiggled my toes to encourage blood flow.

Once I could take a few steps without stumbling, I made my way to the couch where my bag was, and then to the bathroom, improving with each step.

At the sink, I used the toilet, brushed my teeth, and changed clothes. Black tank top, black jeans, my boots—and this time, a black hoodie to blend into the night.

Next to my bag were my bow, arrows, blades, knives, and holsters.

By the time I was geared up, it was dark out. I slowly lifted the window, careful not to wake anyone. I wanted to get on the roof to get a better view. With no safe way to climb up directly, I scanned the area.

I smiled. A tree stood nearby, a sturdy branch within reach. My hidden talent? I can walk a tightrope. It was going to come in handy.

I climbed onto the window ledge, hugging the outer wall. With a leap, I landed on the branch, arms out for balance. Three steps, then I grabbed a higher branch to steady myself.

Climbing a bit higher, I walked out onto a branch above the roof and leapt down lightly. Thankfully, the roof wasn’t steep.

From the roof’s peak, I could see the whole village layout. The pack house sat in the center, surrounded by three circles of smaller houses. The farther out the houses were, the more run-down they looked.

Movement in the distance caught my attention. I pulled out my binoculars.

A family of raccoons. The adorable babies clung to Mama as she scaled a trash can. When she reached the top, it tipped over with a crash.

Someone jumped in the shadows.

Gotcha.

A small figure crept behind houses, staying in the shadows. They carried two small bundles. Heading toward me.

Behind me was the only exit from the village.

I tracked them as they moved toward a barn-like structure with multiple garage doors. I crawled back down the roof and slid down the tree on the opposite side of the house, keeping out of sight.

I waited until they disappeared inside. As the door shut, I sprinted through the shadows to the building and hugged the wall as a vehicle exited the garage.

They kept their headlights off to avoid drawing attention. Once past the houses, the lights turned on.

I slipped inside the barn.

Vehicles lined the space—cars, trucks, jeeps, motorcycles.

Then I saw it.

A beautiful black Ducati Superleggera V4.

A cabinet nearby held keys and phones. I grabbed a phone and a familiar key. Pressed the fob.

The Ducati’s headlights blinked. I smiled.

They brought my bike here. I thought I’d never see her again.

I turned off the lights, mounted her, and started the engine.

Silent as a whisper.

Because that’s how I built her.

Perfect for hunting monsters in the dark.