All Chapters of Bound By Broken Promises: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Aria POVAlong with the sharp sting of Seattle's never-ending rain and the metallic flavor of ancient blood, the smell of terror and desperation clung to the abandoned warehouse like a second skin. I followed the renegade werewolf through the tangle of industrial waste while crouching behind a pile of decaying crates and breathing in controlled gasps.Three weeks. Marcus Chen had been chasing this specific monster for that long before he called me in. Pioneer Square saw three weeks' worth of mangled bodies, each one ripped apart with the brutal accuracy that only a wolf who had lost all humanity could possess.I clenched my fingers over my customized Glock's silver-core rounds. The conventional silver weapons, such as blessed swords, ancient artifacts, and ceremonial nonsense that were impressive but took too long to deploy, were preferred by the majority of hunters. I discovered the hard way that you need something that functions faster than pretty when you're up against a two-hundre

Aria POVThe Northgate Community Center reeked of old coffee and harsh disinfectant, with an undercurrent of tension that made my wolf shift restlessly beneath my skin. I arrived fifteen minutes ahead of time, a product of my hunting past, where tardiness could lead to fatal consequences, and used that time to examine the exits, assess possible threats, and select a seat that kept my back against the wall, allowing me to see both entrances clearly. Marcus referred to it as professional paranoia. I considered it a means of survival. The conference room was bland enough to fit in anywhere in America: beige walls, fluorescent lights that rendered everyone a touch sickly, and a lengthy table surrounded by mismatched chairs that had definitely seen better years. Not quite the sort of venue you'd expect for organizing a hunt for a supernatural serial killer, but Marcus preferred neutral territory for inter-pack discussions. Smart move. Put a bunch of territorial predators in an actual ter

All I could smell in Marriott's lobby was expensive coffee and air freshener. I sat in a corner chair where I could watch the entrances, wrapping my hand tightly around my third cup of caffeine and trying to make sense of Morrison's genealogy records. The connections were there. Subtle, but there.Beyond being the elders who had pressured Kieran three years ago, Davidson and Morrison were connected through bloodlines that went back five generations. Descended from the same alpha line, they are both part of a network of families that had controlled pack politics in the Pacific Northwest for over a century. My phone buzzed. Kieran: On my way up. I'd given him my phone number because the hotel lobby felt too public for the conversation we intended to have. We should be careful of places with too many ears and eyes. But now, sitting on my bed with files spread around me like a paper fortress, I was regretting that decision.The knock came exactly ten minutes later. Three sharp raps, t

KieranThe Marriott's elevator seemed to take forever. I stood there watching the numbers climb, Damien's words kept ringing in my head. "But you'll never get it if you don't try."Maybe he was right. Maybe I was an idiot for not fighting harder three years ago. But what was done was done. Right now, I had to focus on the case, on keeping people alive.On keeping Aria alive.The elevator dinged, and I walked down the hall to Aria's. I knocked twice."It's open," came her voice from inside.I found her at the small desk by the window, papers spread everywhere. Crime scene photos, genealogy charts, maps of the pack territories. She'd been busy."You found something," I said, closing the door behind me."I found more than something." She didn't look up from the papers. "Your Morrison wasn't just an elder who supported the rejection. He was the one who started it."I moved closer, studying the documents she'd laid out. "What do you mean?""I mean, he's the one who first approached the othe

KieranI watched as Sophia walked majestically out of the car with two guards by her side from the window of the conference hall. Her scent hit me first before she got close enough to the pack house. Expensive perfume, vanilla, and jasmine. She always wore them like her life depended on the blend. Knowing werewolves have heightened olfactory senses, she’d wear too much, as if a little of it wasn’t enough to announce her presence before she entered a room. I drew in a sharp breath, mentally calming myself for whatever the reunion would bring. She barely changed. She made sure she gathered everyone’s attention along with her as she walked, with her head high, as they all fixed their gazes on her perfectly straight posture from behind. “Are you nervous?” Damien appeared from behind, his expression was neutral beyond suspicion. “I don’t have a good feeling about her appearance.”“Do you have any idea why she’s really here?”“I spoke to her on the phone, and she said she heard about the