Chapter 5

5

F or a supposedly superior species, werewolves sure go down easily when employing the right methods. Within seconds of pressing down the plunger of the syringe, the girl's muscles stop twitching, her lashes fluttering a few times before her eyes fully close.

This drug works quick.

We call it liquid dark, or LD for short, and it's a combination of a strong sedative with an extra hit of wolfsbane and colloidal silver to boot. A scientist within The Guild perfected the formula years ago, and it's proven useful time and time again for snatch and grab jobs. Dave Miller- which I'm 99% sure is an alias- used to be employed by the federal government as a scientist, and you wouldn't believe the shit he's seen and the stories he has. According to him, werewolves are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what monsters the government is aware of and keeping its citizens in the dark about. We're just lucky Dave found us so he could lend his skills to the cause.

In less than a minute, the drug fully takes effect, sending the female werewolf into a deep, dreamless sleep. I rise up from my crouch, standing over her at my full height and finally getting a good look at the creature Bravo team brought in last night.

She's… beautiful . Startlingly so. But if I've learned anything over the past decade, it's that the most savage of beasts come in the prettiest packages. Her heart-shaped face looks almost angelic in her slumber, her features delicate and her thick dark lashes fanning out over her flushed cheeks. Her plump lips are a rosy shade of pink, parted gently with her shallow breathing, and her long blonde hair is pooled around her head like a halo.

Guess it's not blue after all. Must've been a trick of the light in the video recording that Matty took.

Though she's dressed unassumingly in a pair of black leggings and a plain white cropped tee, the strip of tanned skin showing at her midsection betrays just how lethal this creature really is. Her abs are well-defined, taut and toned like she spends all her hours in the gym. Her arms are lean and muscular, one of them decorated with tattoos in intricate floral designs, and though her legs are covered by the fabric of her pants, I'm willing to bet that they're just as toned as the rest of her is.

At a peaceful state of rest like this, the girl looks almost innocent. Human, even. But I know better. Which is why I ignore the fleeting thought of picking her up and moving her to the cot, leaving her lying on the floor like the wild animal she is as I exit the cell.

I tune out the smacking sound of fists against flesh coming from the next cell over as I lock the cell door behind me, not even glancing that way as I pass by to head to the staircase. Unlike so many of my comrades, I don't get off on violence. I typically stay behind the scenes when we bring in prisoners, preferring to keep an eye on things using the video feed on my laptop rather than personally involving myself in interrogations. Which is exactly what I was doing when I saw the girl start freaking out and felt the need to intervene with a quick dose of LD. We can't have our prized captive injuring herself before we even get a chance to use her, after all.

I pocket the keys to her cell rather than returning them to the hook at the top of the basement stairs, closing the door behind me to seal off the sounds of the savage beating taking place down there. The basement of this place is completely soundproofed, accessible only by keying in a code on the panel beside the door. All of it was set up by the owner prior to our arrival and tailored to my father's specifications. This is the first time we've had an opportunity to actually use the cells for their intended purpose, though.

A strange feeling of unease washes over me as I stride down the hall toward the back of the house, heading straight for the fridge in the kitchen to grab a beer.

"How'd it go down there?" Dad asks from the living room.

I twist the cap off the bottle, tossing it into the sink as I turn around and nudge the fridge closed with an elbow. "Fine," I grumble. "Gave the girl enough LD to knock her out for at least eight hours." Raising the beer bottle to my lips, I drain half of it in two gulps, the carbonation scalding my throat.

"And the male?" my dad asks as I wipe my mouth with a tattooed forearm.

"The boys are taking care of him," I mutter. "Don't know why we bothered dragging him back here, we should get more than enough information from the girl."

Matty fully debriefed me on what went down after he got back last night. It was a lucky guess that the ones who'd installed the new cameras might also be the ones to repair them, and his suggestion to set a trap paid off. The Alpha male didn't show, but his Luna did, and she's the first high-profile target we've been able to bring in. Though I should probably clarify with my father what he plans to do with her now that she's here.

I down the rest of my beer, grabbing another from the fridge before heading over to join him in the living room. It's early, so most of the other soldiers are still in bed, giving us the room to ourselves. A lot of us have adapted to being night owls since it's the best time to hunt, which makes for quiet mornings around here.

Dad's nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling on his phone when I slump down onto the couch across from him, kicking my feet up on the coffee table and bringing my beer bottle to my lips.

"Little early for that, isn't it?" Dad asks, not even glancing up from his phone screen.

I take a swig of my beer, swishing it around in my mouth before swallowing it down. "Considering what I just saw down there, beer for breakfast seems appropriate."

"Eh, let the guys have their fun," he sighs, his thumbs typing out a message. "Everyone wants their pound of flesh after that massacre on the night of the full moon."

I snort a wry laugh. "Kicking the shit out of one werewolf hardly evens the score."

"If it makes them feel better, then who am I to say no?" Dad reasons, shrugging. "People express their grief in different ways, son."

I grunt in affirmation, sipping my beer as I try to shut out that strange, edgy feeling I've had since going downstairs. "Whatever you've got planned for the girl, I want to take point on it," I mumble, idly tracing my fingertips over the outline of the keys in my pocket.

Dad's brows shoot up in surprise as he looks up from his phone screen, finally setting it aside to give me his full attention. "You don't usually involve yourself with the captives," he states, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"No, but that was before they murdered my best friend," I reply coldly.

He nods solemnly in understanding. "Have at it, then. She's all yours." He stares into my eyes, tipping his head. "For Ben."

"For Ben," I agree.

Fuck , just saying his name out loud breaks open something inside me.

Ben and I were both twenty when he joined The Guild, and the two of us hit it off right from the start. For the past six years, we've been fighting in the field together, rooming together at the safehouses, and hanging together whenever we've had downtime. I'm an only child, but Ben's the closest thing I've ever had to a brother.

Well, he was . Now he's nothing but worm food- if they even bothered burying his body, that is. It wouldn't surprise me if those freaks ate him or something. Nothing surprises me anymore when it comes to werewolves.

"So, what is the plan, exactly?" I ask, picking at the label on my beer bottle with a fingernail.

"I'm still working on it," Dad replies vaguely. "Just extract information for now, but keep her breathing. I'll let the other guys know that you'll be her handler and to go through you if they want to help out."

I hum in acknowledgment, draining the rest of my beer and pushing up from the couch to get rid of the bottle. "We gonna promote Matty?" I ask over my shoulder as I head toward the kitchen.

My dad makes a scoffing sound in his throat. "Oh sure, that'd go over well with the others. Kid hasn't even been with us a year yet, not to mention the fact that he's still a teenager."

"So?" I challenge, sliding open the drawer for the hidden trash can beneath the kitchen island and dropping the bottle in with a clank. "He's already proven himself more in one year than the others have in five," I say, kicking the drawer closed. "And don't forget, I regularly led a team for missions when I was a teenager. "

"You're different," Dad points out, craning his neck to glance at me over the back of the couch. "You're my son."

His lips curve into a proud smile, and I crack one of my own in return. "Nepotism at its finest."

Dad chuckles to himself, picking up his phone again and resuming whatever he was doing before, while I help myself to another beer from the fridge. It's five o'clock somewhere, right?

Rather than pushing the issue of giving Matty the promotion he deserves, I decide to shelve that conversation for another time, heading down the hall toward my room instead. The shades are permanently drawn, so it's like a dark cave when I enter, which is exactly how I like it. The dismal ambiance perfectly reflects my mood.

My laptop is sitting open on top of my desk, a notification glowing in the corner of the screen. I swipe it up on my way over to the bed, dropping down and kicking my legs out before keying in my passcode.

The notification is for motion on one of our cameras, but I don't know which one until I open up the program for our surveillance system, typing in another password. My dad and I are the only ones with unrestricted access to the video feeds. From a single program, I can access any cameras we currently have online- the ones in the forest we planted for surveillance, the ones around the exterior of the safehouse, and the ones in the cells downstairs to monitor prisoners.

One guess as to which camera set off the notification.

The video feeds don't have any accompanying audio, but they allow us to keep an extra eye on things. I've always been technologically inclined and set up the system myself years ago. We use the same security system for all The Guild's safehouses, so at this point, navigating it is as easy as riding a bike. Which is why I can't pass it off as an accidental click when I bypass the blinking notification for cell two and bring up the video feed for cell one instead.

The image fills my screen, showing the interior of the cell from a camera positioned in the top left corner. The Luna is still fast asleep on the floor near the bars, right where I left her.

She's so still that for a second, I wonder if she's even breathing. And then, rather than clicking off the video feed and actually doing something productive, I settle back against my headboard, cracking my beer as I continue to study the girl on the screen.

It doesn't seem right for her to be what she is and look like that . Behind that deceptively doll-like face is a murderous monster; a beast lurking beneath that smooth sunkissed skin.

Yet as I watch her, sitting in the dark and nursing my beer, that uneasy feeling I've had all morning finally settles.