Page 3 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)

Wolves at the Edge of the Map

Lyra

Every single day, I looked. Nothing changed. The cops wouldn’t fucking help. They’d already written her off as a runaway. With each day that passed, I grew less sure of finding Lily.

But things had gotten stranger.

People started disappearing in New Orleans. Teenagers vanishing in the night. An urban legend of pale figures along the highways at the edge of the dark woods and swamps. Strange symbols drawn in alleyways. A girl found wandering naked with no memory and puncture wounds along her spine.

Other than Lily, though, they were all in the city.

Until they weren’t.

It started with a flyer.

Taped to a lamppost outside a liquor store, faded and water-stained. Just a missing girl. Not Lily—but the same vacant eyes, the same eerie details. Shifting my paper bag in my arm, I paused to read it.

Marissa Quinn. Age: 17. Last seen: Fontaneau Boulevard walking home alone. Last seen wearing a red hoodie, carrying sketchbooks. If seen, contact… and there was a number listed.

I stared at it too long, something cold and foreboding pressing against the back of my neck. Goosebumps broke out over my skin.

That made five.

Including Lily, five girls, gone without a trace in the last three months.

No bodies. No messages. Just silence.

The cops rolled their eyes. I didn’t.

If they wouldn’t do anything, I would. So I started digging. Not just local news—forums, dark web threads, conspiracy pages. The things I began to uncover seemed like things from a book or a movie.

No, I didn’t believe in monsters, not really, but I was desperate enough to follow the digital breadcrumb trail of fringe voices who swore something ancient was behind the disappearances.

It seemed utterly crazy, but it was all I had to go on.

The dark web threads I stumbled upon all mentioned the same things.

“The Crimson Chalice Covenant.”

“The pale men who buy girls that shine too bright.”

“The blood cult riding shadows near the crossroads.”

“Stay away from the woods near the iron bridge. It’s where the veil wears thin.”

“Ask the tattooed freaks on Blackthorn Avenue—they know.”

That last one stuck. Tattooed freaks on Blackthorn Avenue? It specifically said… they know.

That was how I found myself on Blackthorn Avenue at 2:03 in the morning. I’d been sitting there since it got dark because didn’t everything that was bad happen under the heavy cloak of night?

My phone rang.

“Shit,” I muttered as I hurried to silence the vibrating that sounded amplified in the quiet darkness. “Yes?” I whispered after seeing my friend Abby’s number.

“What are you doing? Wanna come over for wine and some binge TV?” she hopefully asked. She’d called me every day. She’d also been trying to keep me busy, but I’d been blowing her off.

“I’m busy,” I whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” she asked. “Lyra, what are you up to?”

“I’ll have to tell you about it later. I’ll call you in the morning,” I promised.

“Lyra… please tell me you aren’t playing detective.”

I remained silent.

“Lyra, you can’t?—”

“I’ll call you,” I cut in and then ended the call. I changed my phone to silent and no notifications.

Dressed in black jeans, a black hoodie, and black combat-style boots, I stepped into the shadows. Faint scuttling sounds were followed by soft scraping noises as rats dug through trash cans.

My heart raced and my hands shook slightly.

Maybe I should’ve turned back.

The warehouse district was half-abandoned, the windows boarded and tagged with cryptic graffiti—spirals, bleeding eyes, and symbols that looked older than the English language. The streetlights flickered like they were gasping their last breath.

Resolutely, I clutched Lily’s necklace in one hand and a crowbar in the other. Because logic be damned, something inside me knew this place mattered.

When I reached the place mentioned in the groups, I ducked under a twisted iron gate, the smell of rust and ash hitting me in the face. The blackness was thick around me, but I didn’t dare turn on a light. All I could do was pray that I didn’t trip on or kick something.

Somewhere in the dark, I heard voices—low, guttural.

The closer to the edge of the building I got, the louder they were. It sounded crazy, but they seemed… not human.

Cautiously, I peeked around the corner—and saw them.

Three figures. Pale skin. Long, dark coats. Eyes that I could see all the way from where I was because they seemed to shimmer gold in the dark. They stood around a dark-haired girl—barely conscious—strung up between two metal poles like bait on a hook. The girl’s mouth moved, but no sound came.

“She’s marked,” one said as I fumbled for my phone to call the police.

“Bloodline’s clean. Young. Unbound.”

“Thane will want this one delivered intact.”

I gasped.

Too loud.

Heads turned. Eyes locked on me, though I knew there was no way they could discern me in the pitch black.

And the air went… wrong.

They moved faster than my thoughts processed—silent, predatory, uncoiling from the shadows.

I did the only thing I could—I ran. I could practically feel them breathing down my neck.

Boots skidding across gravel, lungs burning, I pushed myself. Something inhuman screamed behind me, high-pitched and yet bone-deep. I didn’t look back. Didn’t want to see what was chasing me.

Foregoing my previous stealth path along the building, I sprinted across the open lot toward the broken fence—and slammed into a figure blocking my path.

“Nooooo!” I screamed and swung the crowbar?—

But he caught it—with one hand.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes like burned silver. His inked arms were veined and appeared not to have an ounce of fat on them. He didn’t flinch, didn’t speak. He simply turned his head toward the incoming things and bared his fangs.

Fangs .

He gently placed me behind him, yet I still stumbled back into the bent and distorted chainlink.

What followed wasn’t a fight. It was slaughter.

The man moved like he was born in war—an ancient, savage, and lethal dance. He tore through them with brutal elegance. Silver blades flashed as they whipped through the air, flame-charged fists hitting pale flesh with a sickening crack, and a growl that made my bones literally ache.

By the time it was over, the pavement was slick with blood and dusted with what looked like ash.

Unable to process, I stood frozen, chest heaving.

The man turned to me, bloody fangs still out, eyes slowly fading back to a more human-like color. His voice was deep, low, and full of disdain. “You’re either brave or stupid, showing up here alone.”

I swallowed before I stammered, “Who—who are you?”

He stared at me almost as if I were a piece of gum stuck to his shoe. Or maybe dog shit on his shoe. The intensity of his gaze was unnerving and the longer he stared, the more frustrated he seemed.

“No one important,” he grumbled, not answering my question with a frown. Then as he stepped over the broken bodies, he called out, “Next time, stay home.”

And just like that—he vanished into the night, the roar of a motorcycle fading into the distance like a warning.

“What the fuck?” I asked the empty air. There was no way I saw what I thought I saw. My chest heaved as I still fought for my breath. I had to be dreaming. I was going to wake up in my own bed and Lily would be in her room and all of this insanity was simply a nightmare.

It had to be.

That’s when I realized the girl that had been bound was still over there. I raced back around the abandoned building only to find the chains swinging empty.

“Where…” I trailed off, stunned. There was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air—much like Lily.

I knew it was a bad idea. Likely worse than the decision I’d made tonight. But I was going to track him down. If it was the last thing I did. Because now I knew—this wasn’t just about Lily. There was something older, darker, and far more organized than I could’ve ever imagined.