2

Vorian POV

"Come back to bed, Vorian. Please!"

Her voice carried from the bed, syrupy with desire. Clingy little thing but she knew the deal. No strings. No promises. Just a good time. That’s how I liked it.

I poured another glass of scotch and met my reflection in the mirror icy blue eyes sharp as blades, dark brown hair longer in the front, tapered at the sides, jawline sharp enough to cut glass, the hint of a shadow on my cheeks that apparently made women weak in the knees. I’ve always gotten what I wanted. Still do.

My phone rang before I could answer her again. The sound grated. She hadn’t used my title. That’d be dealt with shortly. But first the call.

I accepted with a tap. "Yeah?"

“I’ve got something for you. Tonight.”

“Tonight?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Rogue's been lighting shit up. People. Property. I’ve got his location. I want it handled now. Payment will reflect the urgency.”

I swirled my drink, unfazed. “Send the intel. I’ll need an hour, then I’m on it.”

Click.

No goodbye. Just business. I silenced my phone and turned back to the woman tangled in my red silk sheets. Pale skin like cream against crimson and black legs long and bare beneath the covers. She sat up when she saw me approach, the silk sliding from her breasts like a slow tease. Hardened nipples met the air. My cock was already halfway there just from the sight.

Her nails trailed down my abs, catching on the edge of my boxer-briefs. Three rounds in and I was still hard. But since she’d conveniently forgotten how to address me, she could show her apology with her mouth.

"What did you just call me?" My voice was low. Controlled.

Her eyes widened. Fear flickered. “A-Alpha Vorian! I just thought... we knew each other well enough that maybe one little slip wasn’t”

She tried to save it with a sultry look. It almost worked. Almost.

I pointed down. “Fix it.”

She didn’t hesitate. My shorts were off in seconds, and her mouth wrapped around me like she was born for it. Tongue swirling, jaw working, one hand pumping what she couldn’t fit, the other gently massaging my balls. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m built big and not just by werewolf standards.

She took it like a pro. She should she’s the pack’s designated bedwarmer, always angling for Luna status. But I’ve made it clear: I don’t need a Luna. Just a warm body. Someone eager to please.

I gripped the back of her head and pushed deeper. Harder. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t pull back. Not until I groaned and finished down her throat. She’d be feeling it tomorrow. Bruised lips. Sore throat. That kind of pain only the worthy earned.

“Good girl,” I muttered. “Now get dressed. I’ve got a job to do.”

I turned away and stepped into the shower, ignoring her as she whined, “Can’t I stay? I’ll keep your bed warm till you get back!”

I let the hot water scald my skin, rinsing off the sweat, sex, and streaks of pink from the night’s roughness. I didn’t even remember drawing blood, but it didn’t surprise me. I don’t do gentle.

After drying off, I suited up in my kill clothes black tactical boots, fitted combat pants, long-sleeved shirt. My tan skin contrasted beneath the fabric, but I always wore a black cap and ski mask on the job. I didn’t always need it. No one ever lived to describe me. Still, precaution was part of the game.

They call me “The Shadowfang Killer.”

The irony? My pack is the Shadowfang Pack.

Only two people know the truth my beta and gamma. Lifelong friends. Partners in secrets. They help track targets, collect dirt, and clean up the messes.

I mind-linked my beta. Got a job. Be back by morning.

Need anything? he answered, voice groggy.

Nah. If I’m late, handle training.

10-4. He cut the link.

A notification pinged on my phone. Secure inbox. I keyed in my code and scanned the message:

Target: Tavian Callahan

Male, 24

Location: 35 miles west of Jordan, Montana.

Isolated cabin near Fort Peck Reservoir.

Occupants: One minor female, 13. Hostage. Rescue scheduled for morning.

Crimes: Arson, multiple homicides, 9 confirmed dead.

Payment: $150k upon completion. Bonus $15k if minor remains untouched.

Attached was his photo. Grimy bastard. Greasy beard, missing teeth, eyes like mud. Looked like he hadn’t bathed in weeks. I could almost smell the rot from here.

Time to hunt.