Page 4 of Vicious Luna
“So I took this last week when I was out scouting…” Matty trails off as he hits pause, glancing back at me over his shoulder. “What does that look like to you?” he asks, blue eyes alight. “You think it’s an Alpha?”
I study the image frozen on the screen for a moment, noting the guy’s imposing size and domineering stance. “Definitely,” I conclude. We’ve been at this long enough that I can recognize an Alpha werewolf when I see one, and the huge, tattooed fucker on the video footage absolutely fits the bill.
“That’s what I thought,” he breathes, hitting play on the video again. “Now watch how the two of them are together.”
I observe the footage for a few more seconds, watching as the man and woman on screen tease and shove one another asthey work to install a camera in a tree. They’re definitely comfortable with each other; downright affectionate.
“They’ve gotta be Alpha and Luna, right?” Matty asks excitedly.
I grunt in affirmation, eyes still glued to the video playing on his phone screen. I can’t make out the couple’s facial features clearly, but something else about their appearance catches my eye. “What’s with the blue hair?” I murmur.
“Don’t know, could be a weird werewolf trait we’ve never encountered before,” he replies with a shrug. “Remember the one we saw in Indiana that had glasses?”
“See something new with these freaks every fuckin’ day,” I muse, swiping a hand over my chin.
We hesitated when we were in Indiana, wondering if we had bad information based solely on that pair of glasses. Over the years, we’ve learned a lot of things about werewolves as we’ve built up the hunter’s Guild. Their rapid healing abilities should make them impervious to visual deterioration- or so we thought. Apparently, that’s not always the case, because that four-eyed fuck sure as shit transformed into a wolf when we laid our trap for confirmation. Nothing’s ever certain with these beasts.
“So, what’s your play here?” I mumble as the video comes to an end.
Matty grins like he’s been waiting for me to ask. “Well, if they’re the ones installing the cameras, then maybe one of them would respond if, say, it breaks down and needs to be repaired…”
I jerk a nod, pushing off the back of the couch and rising to my full height. Matty’s only nineteen, but he’s a smart kid, always eager to please. He chose The Guild over enlisting in the military after high school at the coaxing of his uncle- who’s been with us almost since the beginning- and he actually takes initiative, which is more than I can say for a lot of the assholesaround here. Throughout the last decade, people have come and gone from our operation, and even though we fully vet the ones that want to get out in the field and hunt with us, many have gotten cold feet at the last minute and run to pack their bags. Matty’s got potential to be a lifer, though. I can already tell.
“What are you waiting for, then?” I ask him, cocking a brow. “Take the Bravo team and see if you can bring them in. Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”
“I doubt that,” Griffin scoffs from the opposite end of the room, and I snap my head in his direction, pinning him with a glare. Kyle Griffin is one of the aforementioned assholes thatnevertakes initiative. He just sits around talking shit about all his big ideas while never actually putting anything into action or proving he’s worth a damn. If he didn’t have a massive trust fund at his disposal to aid our efforts, I’d have sent him packing years ago.
“You got a better idea?” I challenge, folding my arms across my chest as I stare him down.
“Yeah, just fuckin’ blow them up and move on.” He pulls a handful of chips from the bag in his lap and shovels them into his mouth, crunching loudly. “I’m sure we could get our hands on some explosives,” he adds, his words barely discernible as he chews.
I just keep glaring in Griff’s direction as crumbs tumble from his mouth and collect on the front of his shirt.“And that’s exactly why I’m in charge here, not you,” I reply coolly. “We don’t want to draw attention, dipshit.”
That’s the first rule of this whole organization. The tricky part about hunting werewolves is that they change back into humans once they’re killed, so if we’re sloppy and fail to cover our tracks, we could be looking at catching murder charges. Drawing unwanted attention could get us caught, and then The Guild’s entire objective to rid the world of these monsters would fall apart in one fell swoop.
“Gotta say, I don’t hate the idea,” Dad chuckles as he enters the room, and I cut my glare his way instead.
He’s obviously just trying to get a rise out of me with that comment. He knows as well as I do what the rules are- or at least he should, since he’s the one who made them.
Matty looks back at me again like a deer in the headlights, his gaze bouncing between me and my father. “Should I…?”
“Just go,” I say, flicking my head in command. “I’ll fill him in.”
Dad arches a curious brow as Matty pockets his phone and springs to his feet, hustling out of the room to gather the team, but he doesn’t question my judgment. Officially, Jonathan Knox is the leader of The Guild and I’m his second, while unofficially, the two of us run things together like a partnership. We trust one another implicitly and always present a united front. Me and my dad may not look much alike- aside from the darker pigment of my skin, I definitely favor my mom- but when it comes to our approach to strategy and judgment calls, we tend to think the same. It makes us a great team.
“Wanna fill me in over a drink?” Dad asks after Matty clears out, gesturing toward the huge open-plan kitchen in invitation.
I grunt affirmatively, starting that way and leaving him to follow.
We’ve been camped out at this cabin in Colorado for over a month now, but the word ‘cabin’ doesn’t even begin to do this place justice. It’s a massive luxury home nestled on a sprawling hundred acres, and it’s just one of The Guild’s many safehouses across the country, provided by one of our anonymous financial backers. Well, they’re not anonymous to Dad and me- we know everything there is to know about everyone involved with The Guild- but if they choose to keep their identity a secret to everyone else, it's no skin off our backs. The more donors we have, the better equipped we areto carry out our missions. And at this point, there’s few limits to our resources.
The Guild has come a long way since my dad started building it shortly after our first encounter with a werewolf. When we saw what we were up against with our own eyes, he realized that we’d need more manpower if we really wanted to hunt these beasts and started recruiting other like-minded people to the cause. Now, we’ve got a solid group of soldiers in the field, as well as other members who lend their support where they can- whether financially, through weapons research and development, or even just tracking sightings to pin down possible locations of werewolf packs. I mean, whowouldn’twant to be part of The Guild? We’re vigilantes, out here ridding the world of monsters. We’re the good guys, the fucking heroes of humanity dedicated to exterminating the things that go bump in the night and making this world a safer place.
Or at least that’s what most Guild members seem to believe. Honestly, sometimes I vacillate between being fully committed to the cause and being disenchanted with the whole thing. I’ve been part of this for almost half my life, though, so it’s not like I can walk away now. And after what happened on the night of the full moon, after what those freaks of nature did to Ben…
I swallow back my emotion as I slide onto a barstool at the massive granite kitchen island, drumming my fingers against the countertop while my father strides over to the liquor cabinet and pulls it open.
“You doin’ alright, son?” he asks, glancing back at me while fishing out a bottle of scotch and a glass for each of us.