Chapter 4

Maya's POV

The blast door slammed shut with a pneumatic hiss.

I pulled my black tactical mask lower and descended into Red Wood's underground war room. The fluorescent lights made my silver-white hair look almost luminescent. Eleven pairs of eyes locked onto me the moment my boots hit concrete.

Nobody spoke.

The chair at the head of the tactical table waited. I walked straight to it. Sat down without hesitation.

This was my right. Earned in blood.

I was White Wolf. Red Wood's premier executioner. And tonight I needed to explain why I was still breathing when four of our own weren't.

The silence stretched. Thickened into something almost physical.

They were waiting. Waiting for me to give them answers. Waiting for me to tell them how to kill the thing that had slaughtered our packmates and walked away clean.

I leaned back and dropped my voice into that low register I saved for tactical briefings. Half an octave below normal. All steel, no warmth.

"Victor Krauss. Three confirmed attacks in two weeks. Manhattan office building—sixteen dead. Four wolves, twelve humans. Brooklyn fighting ring—twenty-one casualties. Queens engagement party—twelve."

I kept my amber eyes on the middle distance. Professional. Clinical.

"Current bounty from NYPD and FBI combined is two million dollars. Everyone here volunteered knowing the risks. I won't insult you by pretending he's anything less than the most dangerous vampire we've ever faced."

Wolves had a working relationship with the authorities. Not exactly public, but not exactly secret either. The FBI's Special Division knew we existed. Knew what we did. As long as we kept the vampire problem under control, they looked the other way.

Most civilians knew about us too. Or at least suspected. But to them, we were just people with better reflexes and worse tempers. Slightly more dangerous than your average New Yorker. Which, considering the competition, wasn't saying much.

"You engaged him directly."

The voice came from my right. Not hostile. Just careful. Concerned.

Logan Cooper sat three seats down, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Brown hair cropped short. Square jaw. Amber eyes steady on mine.

Not accusing. Just worried.

My chest tightened slightly. I shoved the feeling down.

"I did," I said evenly.

"And?" Logan's voice stayed gentle. Patient. "What's your assessment? How does he compare to other high-level threats you've faced?"

This was it. The question I'd been dreading.

Because the truth was simple: Victor and I were evenly matched. Maybe he had a slight edge in raw speed. Maybe I had better tactical awareness. But in a straight fight, it could go either way.

Which meant I was Red Wood's best chance at killing him.

But I couldn't tell them that.

Couldn't explain that the only reason he'd gotten the drop on me was because I'd been distracted. Because Raven had started screaming in my head at exactly the wrong moment.

Mate! Mate! MATE!

He is NOT our mate, I'd snarled back. He's a VAMPIRE. Vampires don't HAVE mates.

Not me claiming, Raven had shot back with unusual venom. He just IS.

The memory made my jaw clench.

If I told the pack I was evenly matched with Victor, they'd want to know why I hadn't killed him. Why I'd let him walk away. Why the fight had ended with me on my back with his blade at my throat instead of his head separated from his body.

And I couldn't answer that without admitting I'd been compromised. That my wolf had betrayed me at the worst possible moment.

So I lied.

"He's faster than me," I said. Kept my voice flat. Factual. "Not by much. But enough that it matters in close quarters. His reaction time is—" I paused, searching for the right words. "Inhuman. Even for a vampire."

Logan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Faster than you."

"Yes."

"But you landed hits." Not a question. Logan had seen the after-action photos. The blood on my jacket. The way Victor's shoulder had been bleeding when he'd vanished. "Three shots. One connected."

"I got lucky," I said. "He was toying with me. If he'd been serious from the start, I'd be dead."

The words tasted like ash. But they were plausible. Believable.

Logan studied my face for a long moment. His expression was complicated. Like he wanted to believe me but something wasn't adding up.

"So our best fighter," he said slowly, "barely survived an encounter with him. And only because he wasn't trying to kill her."

"That's my assessment."

"Then how do we kill him?"

I tapped my fingers on the table. Once. Twice.

"We don't fight him one-on-one. We use numbers. Tactics. Force him into a position where speed doesn't matter."

"Like?"

"Confined space. Aerosolized liquid silver. Lock him in, trigger from multiple angles simultaneously. No room to dodge."

Logan nodded slowly. But his eyes never left my face.

"You're sure about this? About him being faster than you?"

No. I'm lying through my teeth because I can't admit my wolf is insane.

"I'm sure," I said.

Something flickered across Logan's expression. Doubt, maybe. Or concern.

But he didn't push. Just nodded again.

"Okay. If you say he's faster, then he's faster. We plan accordingly."

The trust in his voice made that uncomfortable feeling in my chest worse.

Logan had always been like this. Gentle. Supportive. The kind of wolf who actually gave a damn whether the people around him lived or died.

We'd been partners for two years before I'd requested solo assignments. He was good in a fight. Fast. Tactical. Reliable. The kind of backup you wanted when things went sideways.

He was also the only wolf who'd ever explicitly told me he was interested in more than just professional partnership.

It had been about a year ago. After a particularly brutal hunt. We'd been sitting in his truck outside my apartment, both of us covered in blood and vampire ash. And he'd just... said it.

"I know you don't do relationships. I know you're not interested. But I wanted you to know anyway. That I am. Interested, I mean. In you. In case that ever changes."

Then he'd waited. Patient. Gentle. Giving me space to respond.

I'd told him the truth. That I didn't do relationships. Didn't want them. Didn't have room in my life for anything that might make me hesitate when hesitation meant death.

He'd nodded. Said he understood. Said it didn't change anything between us professionally. That he'd still have my back. Still be there if I needed him.

And he had been. For the past year, Logan had been exactly what he'd promised. Supportive. Reliable. Never pushing. Never demanding. Just... there.

It should have been comforting.

Instead it just made me feel guilty.

Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd always thought that if I ever did decide to try the whole relationship thing, it would be with Logan. He was safe. Stable. Good. Everything a sane wolf should want.

But it had always been a vague, distant thought. The kind of hypothetical you never actually plan to act on. Like "someday I'll learn to paint" or "eventually I'll visit Europe."

Not real. Not urgent. Not now.

And now...

Now my wolf was insisting a vampire was my mate. And I couldn't get Victor's scent out of my head. And Logan was sitting three feet away looking at me with those steady amber eyes full of concern and trust.

This is so fucked.

"There's something else."

The voice came from the doorway. Cold. Authoritative. The kind of voice that made every wolf in the room straighten unconsciously.

Alpha Isolde Hernandez stepped into the war room.