Chapter 1: The Job

Katherine

The smell of alcohol, piss, vomit, blood, and fear permeates the stairwell in a sickening collage of scents that would make most people turn and run. But not me. For me, this is the scent of the job, the scent of money, good money that I make to bring the assholes down who cause this level of chaos in the world.

As I take in my surroundings, I hear the sound of a television blaring so loud it should be impossible for anyone to sleep. Underneath the sound of the television, I hear the sounds of a baby crying, the sounds of sex, and the sounds of someone weeping.

As I silently climb the stairs, not that anyone could hear me over the raucous noise of the TV, I hear the sound of someone getting hit and a cry of pain that quickly cuts off.

That would be my target.

I make my way to the third floor, the sound of someone hitting someone else, the pleading cries, and the angry curses getting louder as I make my way to the door.

“You fucking bitch! Do you know what you’ve cost me?” the man snarls. I hear a punch and the whimpering sound of a woman, begging him to stop.

“It wasn’t me. I didn’t do it,” she pleads with him.

Slap.

It’s the same scenario that I’m sent to deal with time and again. Sometimes, like now, it’s an abused woman, sometimes it’s children, but always, it’s someone who is abusing their power.

I quietly turn the knob, finding the door locked. Since my goal is to get out of here without being seen or heard, I don’t bust the door open. Since the woman is talking, she’s not on the brink of death, so I have some time. She may not agree, but if I’m going to make this man disappear without a trace, I can’t leave a trace. That means no witnesses. I’m not worried about her. She’ll be thankful that I saved her and no one expects a woman who was used as a punching bag to clearly remember the details of the person who took out her assailant.

Besides, that’s not my job. I’m the Hunter. Once I’m done, I call the Cleaners.

I extend a claw and slide it into the lock, twisting it until the lock clicks open.

Did I mention I’m a werewolf? An Alpha female who never found her mate and has no usefulness in a pack. So, I left and made my own way, answering an ad for a werewolf in a carefully disguised job posting.

Wolves aren’t exactly part of human society, but there are those, like my employer, who specifically seek out my kind for these sorts of jobs. It makes sense. We have heightened senses, we’re faster than humans, stronger than humans, we heal more quickly, and we’re great escape artists.

I check the hallway once more to make sure no one is watching me, then I slip into the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

The sound of the blaring TV is muted by the closed door, but still so loud that no one could hear what’s going on in here.

I’m in a small entryway and just past the short wall, I can hear the man still beating on the woman. I lift my nose in the air, making sure there are only two people here. I don’t want to be surprised by a third person.

I smell sweat, fear, and fury, but only two human scents.

I step against the wall, slowly walking to the edge where it opens up into a pitifully small living room that has shattered glass, overturned furniture, and splatters of blood along the floor and walls.

I quickly look around the wall and take in the scene. The large man is holding the kneeling woman by the throat. She’s got a nasty shiner already turning an ugly shade of purple and blue on her left eye. There are fingerprint bruises on her arm. Her lips are busted open, and she’s got tears streaming down her mascara-streaked cheeks.

The goal is to get out of here before I can leave a trace. The faster I get this done, the less likely I am to leave something of me behind, like a strand of hair or a fingerprint.

I take a deep breath, settle myself and spin around the corner.

“Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size,” I growl.

“What the ...” the man turns, shock evident on his face. He tosses the woman aside and turns to me. I don’t give him a chance to hit me. I slam the side of my hand against his throat, crushing his windpipe.

His eyes go wide, and he falls to his knees, grasping his throat and fighting to breathe. I grab my phone and hit speed dial.

“Is it done?” my boss asks.

“Yes. He’s dead. Well, he’s dying,” I say as the man collapses forward.

“The woman?”

I look at her and she whimpers. “She’s alive. I need the Cleaners.”

“On their way. The rest of the money will be wired to your account,” he says and hangs up.

I put the phone in my back pocket and reach down for the man. He reeks of sweat and alcohol, and now he’s pissed himself. Great.

“Who are you?” she asks, her voice ragged from being strangled. I glance at her. The right side of her face is just as bruised as the left and now she’s got fingerprint bruises on her throat.

I ignore her question. “Someone will come for you. I was never here,” I say, lifting the man over my shoulder.

Since I can’t carry him out the way I came in, I walk to the window and look out. There’s a fire escape which is a pain in the ass. They make too much noise.

I turn and head to the bedroom, smelling the scent of stale sex on the unmade bed. This window opens to a darkened parking lot. I open the window, thankful for the fresh breeze that blows in. I sniff the air, making sure there’s no one lurking in the parking lot before I leap out of the window, landing easily on my feet.

I double check my surroundings, then begin to run. I stay in the shadows, making my way to the nearest forest. I did my research ahead of time, like I always do, so I know the darkest way to get there. I’ve also tentatively planned the spot where I’ll leave my latest John Doe.

When I get there, I strip off my clothes, shift into my wolf and then dig a hole, much deeper than necessary. Once I’m done, I leap out of the hole, drop the man into it then bury him in the ground. Once that's done, I shift again, finding plants and brush that I can use to cover the mound. Then, I make my way to the edge of the cliff I saw on the map I searched before I came tonight. I look down at the water below. According to my research, it’s a large lake where vacationers come to boat and enjoy their summer vacations. Since it’s late fall, there’s no one here.

I wrap my clothes into a ball, holding them in one hand before diving off the cliff. The cool water engulfs my body as I wash away the scent of the man and the dirt from his final resting place.

I swim across the lake, walking out of the water at the boat ramp. Then I shift into my wolf, grab my clothes in my mouth and begin to make my way home.