Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

NoahI've been hunting this wolf for three weeks now, and tonight he finally does me the courtesy of holding still long enough to kill.Big of him.He's standing at the tree line where Northgate's fence ends and the real woods start, and he's shirtless. Obviously. It's October and I'm wearing three layers, but werewolves don't feel the cold, so this one walks around half naked like he's doing the rest of us a favor.His name is Dax Holt. He's twenty, he's the Alpha of the Tsintah pack, and my father's files call him the strongest wolf this country has seen in a very long time.I don't plan on using his name. Getting on a first-name basis with something I'm about to put down seems like a bad habit to start.I settle the crosshairs under his left shoulder blade, right over the heart, and breathe out halfway, the way Dad drilled into me before I could spell my name.The bolt's tipped with silver and there's wolfsbane on the broadhead. He's a dozen meters away and there's no wind, so I've

NoahSomebody dug their heels in hard right here.There are two deep gouges at the edge of the gravel, where the parking lot ends and the dirt starts. Whoever made them didn’t want to go wherever they were being dragged.I’m crouched over them with my flashlight in my teeth, right where a werewolf told me to look.If Dad could see me taking directions from an Alpha, he’d disown me, dig up Grandpa so he could disown me a second time, and then bill me for the shovel.I counted them anyway. Stood at that fence with my phone out like a man checking the hockey scores and went through every missing person post the county has put up since spring.Five. All of them teenagers. Not one of them seen since.Young people leave Tamarack all the time. There’s very little here to stay for. It’s rural and job prospects are scarce. But most of them don’t vanish without a trace.And there’s a pattern here. Every one of these five was last seen at the edge of town. A bus stop. The gas station out on the h

NoahHolt’s sweats shred a step in front of me, and there’s a white wolf where he was standing, already moving.He hits that thing like a truck, and it barely rocks.He’s big enough to knock over anything with a spine. This thing just swings an arm as thick as my leg at his head, and he has to twist away in midair to keep his skull in one piece.The crossbow’s up before I tell my arms to move, and I put a bolt clean through its throat from close enough to spit on it.It doesn’t care. It keeps swinging at the wolf like I threw a pinecone at it.Right. Wolfsbane’s for wolves. Silver’s for wolves. I packed for the wrong monster.What have I got on me? Knife. Bolts. A lighter. I’d have to talk the thing into holding still while I set it on fire, and everything else is silver.My flashlight’s lying in the leaves, so the whole fight’s lit from ankle height and the shadows are enormous.Holt goes in low and gets his jaws around its knee. I hear the joint go, a pop and a crunch, exactly like t

DaxI spend most of the time waiting for the others to arrive thinking about Noah’s mouth.Meanwhile my Beta’s standing right here, waiting for a cover story. I’ve got even less of one than he does, and I’m supposed to be the one in charge.The one piece of luck I’ve had tonight is that my dick has finally calmed down. I don’t think even Finn could spin that for the pack.Mato’s the first one through the trees, with Reena right behind him and a few more on their heels, all of them half-shifted.He’s got fur down both arms and his claws out. He sees the corpse in pieces and looks honestly disappointed that nobody saved him any.Reena circles what’s left of it with her nose working.“Alpha.” Mato’s voice is half growl. “We felt the fight. What the hell is that?”“I don’t know yet,” I tell him. “It came out of the trees swinging, and it didn’t stay down until its head came off.”Every word of that is true. I’m starting with the honest parts and hoping the lie can hitch a ride.“And the hu

NoahThe track to Lillianna’s cottage doesn’t appear on any map, and I know it moves.I’ve hunted these woods since I was a kid, and I’ve still driven straight past the turnoff twice today. That’s not me being tired, even though I haven’t slept. That’s her toying with me. It happens every time.The forest between the road and her door does what she tells it, which seems to be: no visitors who aren’t very determined to see her, or who she has no interest in seeing.When the track finally lets me in, it narrows until my truck won’t fit, which is her way of telling me I’m walking the rest of the way.Every tree out here is soaked in her magic, so by rights my tattoos should be on fire. They don’t even get warm. They came from her, so I guess they recognize her signature and don’t see any need for a warning.Her cottage sits in its clearing looking like a postcard and feeling like a checkpoint. The chimney’s smoking, and there are herbs hung up to dry along the porch.A goat stands by the