Page 16

FINN

I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I crept up the stairs, keeping my gun pressed close to my chest.

The house was shrouded in darkness, and my human eyes could barely make out the steps in front of me.

Shifters might have been born for this, but I was just a hunter who’d learned to make do.

The stairs creaked under my weight, but I kept my steps light. One mistake could cost me everything.

I’d just turned eighteen, and the average hunter didn’t live past their forties.

I wanted those years—hell, I wanted to make it to retirement. And, if I was honest, maybe a quiet life in the country with Gabriel.

But thoughts of him had no place here, and I couldn’t afford the distraction. I shook my head, forcing myself back into focus.

The door to the target’s bedroom loomed just ahead. I took a breath and double-checked my ammo.

Silver rounds, deadly enough for most monsters, and tonight’s target was a shifter—nothing I hadn’t handled before.

As I moved in, Jake, another trainee and perpetual show-off, stormed past me. My jaw clenched.

Our squad leader had assigned me to the second floor, but Jake had clearly blown through his area and decided he needed to grab the spotlight here, too.

Rather than argue, I held my tongue and let him go first, hoping his recklessness wouldn’t get us both killed.

Jake kicked open the door, not even bothering with stealth, and immediately started firing.

I rushed in, gun raised, but the target—a man named Tom Higgins—was still alive, though barely.

Blood soaked the sheets and the wall behind the bed. Higgins sat, wide-eyed and pale, staring at the carnage.

Jake’s revolver was still trained on him, but Higgins was already moving, scrambling off the bed like a drunken man.

My hand shook, finger poised over the trigger, but I couldn’t pull it. I hated it when they looked like this—like us.

I expected Higgins to try to dart past me, maybe even attack, given his shifter strength.

But instead, he fell to his knees right in front of me. His hands gripped my shirt, and he looked up at me with terrified, pleading eyes.

"Don’t let him kill me," he begged, voice a raspy whisper.

The scent of his fear filled the room, and I hesitated, my palms clammy against the gun.

I’d been taught that supernaturals didn’t have souls—that they were monsters wrapped in human skin.

But Higgins looked so human, his eyes filled with terror like any other man fighting for his life.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I lowered my gun just a fraction.

“What the hell are you waiting for, Peterson?” Jake barked. “End this.”

“I... I can’t,” I whispered.

Higgins’s face twisted, and for a split second, I thought he smiled.

I blinked, and his face seemed different—his teeth sharper, eyes glowing a sickly yellow in the dark.

Horror jolted through me as Higgins’s lips parted, revealing fangs.

His muscles tensed, and before I could react, he lunged at me, his face and body contorting mid-leap.

Just as he was inches from tearing my throat out, Jake fired, and Higgins’s head snapped back as the bullet tore through his skull.

I stumbled backward, my heart pounding as the ringing in my ears faded, replaced by the heavy, almost sinister quiet that followed.

The body in front of me slumped, half-shifted, the face and hands covered in coarse, dark hair, while the mouth gaped open, showcasing his vicious fangs.

Blood splattered across the wall, still dripping in thick, slow rivulets down the wallpaper.

I couldn’t tear my gaze from Higgins, from the vacant, yellow-tinged eyes staring into nothing.

He’d looked so…human, desperate. But there, twisted in death, he looked like a true monster.

It was the kind of horror that clung to you, the sort that curled in your stomach, settling into an uncomfortable, lasting nausea.

"Better get used to it, Peterson," Jake muttered, wiping a stray fleck of blood off his face with his sleeve.

He sounded annoyed, but beneath that, I could hear the gloating in his voice. “This isn’t a game,” Jake reminded me.

I swallowed hard, shoving down the disgust and adrenaline that had me feeling sick and shaky.

I’d been trained for this moment, drilled on the art of quick, cold execution since I was barely old enough to even hold a weapon.

My brothers, my cousin—they’d both made it look so easy, so matter-of-fact.

And here I was, barely holding it together, not because I was afraid, but because…because I’d hesitated.

Jake sneered, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t have what it takes, do you?” He stepped closer, his voice a mocking whisper. "Look at you, hands shaking. What were you even planning to do—talk him to death?”

I clenched my fists, gripping my gun tight. He was right, and I hated it.

If Jake hadn’t been here, Higgins would’ve ripped me apart. No, he’d trusted me to spare him.

And I hadn’t been able to move—hadn’t even been able to decide.

Our squad leader’s voice crackled over the comms, sharp and demanding. “Report in. Is the target neutralized?”

Jake pressed his earpiece, flashing me a grin as he answered. “Confirmed. Target down.”

I didn’t even bother responding, the weight of the entire night pressing down on me.

We were all taught that hunters lived short, dangerous lives, and for the first time, that cold truth hit me hard.

I felt like I was staring down a path I wasn’t ready to walk, but one I couldn’t turn back from.

Jake gave me a look, something between pity and superiority, and I felt the anger bubbling up again.

“Let’s go,” he said, turning for the stairs.

I followed in silence, gun clutched tight against my chest, my every instinct screaming to get out of that house.

The dead weight of what had happened, of what I’d just seen, clung to me as I stepped into the hallway, every shadow and creak making me jump.

Even though I’d seen Higgins go down, the room around me felt charged, like something lingered in the air, restless and waiting.

As we reached the landing, the floor creaked beneath us, loud in the heavy quiet of the house.

Jake froze, his head snapping toward the doorway leading to the bathroom.

“What is it?” I whispered, keeping my voice low.

Jake’s hand was already on his gun. “Thought I heard something.”

But before I could even process what he meant, a figure lunged from the shadows.

It was another shifter, a woman with wild eyes and a snarl that revealed teeth that seemed too sharp, too unnatural for her otherwise delicate features.

I barely had a chance to raise my weapon before she crashed into Jake, her hands clawing for his throat.

The hallway exploded into chaos. Jake fought back, his gun falling to the floor as he struggled under her crushing grip.

Her eyes flicked to me, a crazed glint in her gaze that sent a chill down my spine.

I aimed, trying to find a shot, but they were moving too fast, limbs tangled in a deadly struggle.

“Shoot her!” Jake yelled, his voice strained as he fought to keep her fangs from sinking into his neck.

My finger hovered on the trigger, but the fear clawed up my throat, making it hard to breathe.

It felt like every doubt and fear I’d tried to bury came roaring back, freezing me in place.

“Finn!” Jake’s shout snapped me out of it, and I steadied myself, aiming at the shifter’s side.

I pulled the trigger, the gun kicking back hard in my grip.

The bullet hit its mark, the silver burning through her flesh as she screamed, a horrific, guttural sound that sent shivers down my spine.

She slumped, her body going limp as she slid off Jake, collapsing into a heap on the floor.

Jake staggered to his feet, breathing hard, his eyes blazing as he glared at me.

“You almost let me die, you idiot!” He looked half-ready to hit me, his fists clenched tight.

I wanted to say something, to explain the split-second of hesitation, but I knew he wouldn’t understand.

Hunters didn’t hesitate. They didn’t feel. They simply did what was necessary, no matter how brutal.

But even now, staring at the bodies sprawled on the floor, I wasn’t sure if I could be like Jake, cold and efficient, unbothered by the lives we were taking.

Our squad leader’s voice came through the earpiece again. “Status report?”

Jake took a shuddering breath, giving me one last hard look before he replied, “Secondary hostile down. Exiting the premises.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable, and I knew what he wasn’t saying.

Tonight, I’d been weak. Tonight, I’d nearly gotten us both killed.

We left the house, stepping out into the cold night air. I’d hesitated, let my emotions get the better of me, and it had nearly cost us everything.

I didn’t know if I could keep doing this—living with the constant threat, the unrelenting violence, the fear clawing at me every second.

Higgins’ face, his fear—it lingered in my mind. Sure, he tricked me in the end, but his performance felt real.

Deep down, he was genuinely terrified. Were monsters truly soulless?

And as we drove away, leaving the bloody, silent house behind us, I realized that question might haunt me forever.