Page 7 of The Reaper's Vow

My wolf stirs, catching the lie. His pulse hammers, the sour tang of fear laced with deception bleeding into the air.

“Bullshit,” I growl.

“I swear, I don’t?—”

In one fluid motion, I draw my gun and press the cold barrel to his temple. The dull thunk of metal against bone makes him flinch.

“Tell me, or you die now.” My words are flat, stripped of emotion. Pure fact. “I’m not asking again.”

Marco freezes, pupils blown wide with panic. The stench of urine fills the air as a stain spreads across his tailored pants.

“Jesus Christ, please,” he whimpers. “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t,” I counter, snapping off the safety. “And I promise my way will hurt more.”

His mouth opens, then shuts again. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, torn between two terrors—the brutal certainty of me, and the looming shadow of Anselm’s wrath.

But in the end, he makes the wrong choice.

“I can’t. You don’t know what they’ll?—”

“You should’ve been more afraid of me,” I say, and pull the trigger.

The shot rings out like a final judgment. Marco’s body jerks, a red bloom spreading across his temple as he drops to the floor with a lifeless thud. Blood pools beneath him, seeping into the cracks of the drain like a stain the house will never forget.

I stare down at what’s left of him, no flicker of remorse in my chest. He chose silence. I chose death. A more peaceful end than anyone in his position deserves.

Karina

The black dress feels painted onto my skin, like a second coat I can't shed when the moon calls. Britney's stilettos—torture devices she swears are totally comfortable after the first hour—make me tower over her even more than usual, bringing my wolf uncomfortably close to the surface.

“You look fucking incredible. I knew that dress would work on you. It's like it was made for those hips.”

I tug at the hemline, trying to coax it lower on my thighs. “It's a bit...revealing.”

“That's the whole point!” She laughs, the sound bright against the midnight backdrop of redwoods. “God, I can't believeyou've been hiding that body under those baggy clothes all this time. Those legs should be illegal.”

I swallow hard, feeling exposed in more ways than one. “I'm not used to showing this much skin.”

“That's exactly why you needed this.” She loops her arm through mine, steadying me on the borrowed stilettos as we walk toward what looks like an abandoned mill nestled among towering redwoods. “Travis kept you hidden away like some dirty secret. Time to remind yourself you're a goddamn goddess.”

My wolf preens at the compliment, even as anxiety churns in my stomach. I'm walking into a sex club filled with humans when my control is at its weakest. Stupid. Reckless.

“So, the bartender I mentioned—Axel—he's got these arms that should be in a museum.” Britney chatters as we approach the unassuming entrance, her words tumbling out faster as her excitement builds. “And he makes this drink called a Silver Bullet that will change your life. One is enough to knock me on my ass, so maybe don’t get that to start off.”

Silver Bullet? My steps falter as the name of the club comes into full view, illuminated by subtle red lighting against the old timber facade.

Crimson Howl.

My heart stops.

Howl. Crimson. Like blood. Like pack.

This isn't just any sex club. It's a were club. It has to be.

Shit.

“Britney,” I manage through suddenly dry lips, “how long have you worked here?”