Chapter 1

• Keera
• I've often heard people say on several occasions that the truth was bitter, but I've never once actually had a first hand experience to prove that the adage was indeed true. At least I've never had the experience up until now. For as long as I could remember I've always regarded myself as someone who wasn't scared of anything. There was almost no task I couldn't take on. No one I couldn't face. Nothing I couldn't do.
• Or at least that was what I thought.
• I stared blankly at my supervisor, wishing with every fiber of my being that I hadn't actually heard him right. My heart seemed to crash against my ribcage and my palms were a little sweatier than usual. I swallowed forcefully, realizing that this had to be the closest I'd come to knowing what fear felt like. I couldn't recount any instance where I'd ever been genuinely afraid. Not even the day I'd found out that werewolves existed and I had been living with them my whole life.
• I remember being surprised, even in a bit of shock as my mind struggled to grasp what was before me at the time. I had felt a lot of emotions but I had never for once felt fear. Which was very unusual because I should have naturally been terrified to find out that some other species existed besides us humans. Especially since I'd only been seven years at the time.
• But I hadn't.
• If anything else I'd been fascinated after getting over the initial shock. I'd learnt that the majority of them were members of Moon Valley Pack, a nearby werewolf pack. However, the fascination I'd felt had quickly morphed to irritation, disgust and finally resentment. Now anything related to werewolves made me recoil in anger and hate. Except when it came to one particular werewolf. The rest had proven to be such manipulative and violent creatures and there was nothing anyone could say to convince me otherwise.
• Trevor snapped his fingers in front of my face, jolting me out of my reverie. I startled, turning to fix my attention back on him. Sometimes he proved to be a decent supervisor, always making sure I didn't make any mistakes with whatever it was that I was handling. Other times, like now for example, he was simply a pain in the ass.
• "Are you listening?" He asked, staring at me expectantly. I looked at him from across the large brown desk, wondering how exactly I was going to get myself out of this mess. He loosened the buttons on his shirt, his eyes leaving me for a while to look for a file. He placed the file in front of him, raising an eyebrow as he waited for me to give an answer to his question.
• I nodded, clearing my head. "Yes, of course." Against my will, I was listening. Listening to him tell me he wanted me to go to the home of those beasts. Did he not care about my safety? They saw me as the enemy. One slip and I was sure their barbarian Alpha was going to order them to finish me off. He placed the file in front of me, gesturing for me to go through it.
• I picked it up, my mind racing. Sometimes the fact that I knew that werewolves existed seemed to be a curse. For one if I didn't know, there was no way my supervisor would have sought me out for this job. And to think I'd been in the middle of a very serious laboratory test. It was times like this that I envied the other humans who were still living their lives thinking that werewolves were simply a myth. I rubbed my slightly sweaty palm on my lab coat before opening the file.
• My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. There were reports, I realized as I flipped through the pages. Reports of werewolves that had died. I raised my palm to my mouth, shocked at the number. There were almost twenty of them and they had all died within the last two weeks. I reared my head back in surprise. That was quite a large number for such a small time frame. I frowned when I noticed the most recent death was only a few hours ago.
• They hadn't caught the killer yet?
• The cause of death appeared to be unknown, and the times of death were so random, I didn't think the killer was bothered about what time they died. I roamed my eyes through the files again, trying to appear disinterested while my mind ran a mile per second. From reports, I didn't think the killer was also concerned with their ages. A few were the same age, but mostly their age differences were also random and disoriented.
• It was no secret that werewolves were immortal, supernatural creatures. It wasn't completely impossible for them to lose their lives but it was extremely rare that they did. Whoever it was that was behind the killings had obviously done a thorough study of them and was successfully killing them in a way they wouldn't be able to recover from even with their superhuman capabilities. I pushed the file back, refusing to let my sympathy reflect on my face before Trevor preyed on it.
• "I don't understand why you're showing this to me," I highlighted in confusion. I got the hint of what he was trying to say, but I wanted him to spell it out plainly. He'd only been beating around the bush since I got here. He clasped his hands together and placed it carefully on the desk, staring right at me. I leaned forward, bracing myself for whatever it was he was going to say.
• "As you can tell, there's a crazy werewolf serial killer on the loose," He began, leaning back into his chair, his eyebrows forming an obvious v shape. "Whoever it is either knows or has studied everything there is to know about werewolves," He explained, drumming his fingers rhythmically on the desk. "Because for some reason despite their healing abilities they're still dying off like chickens."
• I swallowed, prepared to cut in. I wanted him to go straight to the point.