The Betrayed Hunter's Comeback

Elena's POV I have taken out forty-seven werewolves in my short life, and tonight, I am going to make it fifty. The forest is pitch black, but I do not need a flashlight. My eyes adjust to the dark in seconds. I can hear every heartbeat within a mile, every footstep on the wet leaves, every breath the wind carries through the trees. I crouch behind a thick oak and check my pistol. Silver bullets. Full magazine. My dagger is strapped to my thigh, the blade soaked in wolfsbane. "Elena, do you have eyes on the targets?" Mark's voice crackles through my earpiece. "Three," I whisper. "Two males by the river. One female hiding behind the rocks to the east." "Copy that. Take them out. I will come with the Cleaners to process the bodies once you are done." "Understood." I move through the trees like a ghost. My legs carry me faster than any human should be able to run. My father always said I was born for this. Fast reflexes. Sharp senses. A natural killer. I never questioned it. I still do not. The first werewolf hears me before I reach him. He spins around, half shifted, claws extending from his fingers. His eyes glow gold in the dark. "Wait!" he shouts, throwing up his hands. "I have not attacked anyone. We are just passing through." "You crossed into hunter territory," I say, raising my pistol. "We are running from a rogue pack," he pleads. "They killed our friends two nights ago. We are not a threat to your people." "That is not my problem." "Please. My brother is with me. He is only eighteen years old. He has never hurt a human in his entire life." I look past him. The boy is standing by the river, shaking like a leaf. He looks exactly like his brother said. Young. Thin. Terrified. His golden eyes are wide with fear. Something tightens in my chest. A strange ache I cannot explain. "Elena?" Mark says in my ear. "Status?" "Engaging," I say. I pull the trigger twice. The older brother drops before his bones can finish shifting. Forty-eight. The boy screams. He falls to his knees beside his brother's body, his hands covered in blood. "Why?" he cries, looking up at me. "Why are you doing this? We did nothing wrong!" I walk toward him. My dagger is in my hand. "You are a werewolf," I say. "That is enough." "We are not monsters!" he shouts. Tears stream down his face. "You hunters call us beasts, but you are the ones who kill without asking questions. You are the ones who..." I do not let him finish. The dagger goes in clean. He gasps once and falls beside his brother. Forty-nine. My hands do not shake. They never do. But the ache in my chest grows heavier, and I push it down like I always do. There is no room for feelings in this job. My father taught me that. "Elena, the female is moving toward the town border," Mark says. "Do not let her cross into the city." "I will not." I sprint after her. The wind whips through my hair, and my boots barely touch the ground. She is fast for a werewolf, but I am faster. I am always faster. I catch her at the edge of the tree line. She stumbles and falls into the mud. When she looks up at me, her golden eyes are wild with fear. Her hands are pressed tightly against her swollen belly. "Do not," she begs. Her voice is breaking. "Please. I am carrying a pup. I have done nothing wrong. I was just trying to leave." I press my pistol to her forehead. "You are a werewolf. That is all I need to know." "Is it?" she whispers. She stares up at me, and something shifts in her expression. Fear turns to confusion. "You... you smell different." I freeze. "What did you say?" "Your scent," she says, her voice trembling. "It is not... There is something else underneath. Something special." "I am special." I said, tilting my head slightly to the left. "Yes you are, you are one of..." I pull the trigger. The gunshot echoes through the empty forest. Fifty. I stand over her body for a long moment. The words she said echo in my head over and over. You smell different. I shake my head hard. She was desperate. She was trying to confuse me. That is all. Werewolves will say anything to survive. I know that better than anyone. "Elena?" Mark says. "Status?" "Done," I say. My voice is steady. "All three eliminated. Fifty confirmed kills." "Good work," Mark says. "I will bring the Cleaners to the site in about an hour to process the bodies. You did good tonight." "Thanks." "Oh, and Elena... your father called me earlier. He wants you at the hunter lodge first thing tomorrow morning. He said he has a surprise for you." I frown. "A surprise? What kind of surprise?" "He did not say. Just told me to make sure you show up. You know how he gets when he plans something. He likes to keep everyone in the dark until the last second." I do know. Commander Richard does not do surprises. He does strategies. He does operations. If he is calling something a surprise, it means something big is coming. Something that will change everything. "I will be there," I say. "Good. Get some rest. I love you." "Love you too," I say. I tap the earpiece off and stand alone in the dark forest. The bodies of three werewolves lie around me, their blood soaking into the cold earth. I should feel something right now. Satisfaction. Pride. Relief. I feel nothing. I walk back to my car and slide into the driver's seat. The engine roars to life, and I pull onto the empty road. The streetlights blur past my window. The city is quiet at this hour. The roads belong to me. That is when I see it. I glance at the rearview mirror, and my breath catches in my throat. My eyes are glowing gold. Not brown. Not their normal dark brown. Gold. Bright, burning, unmistakable gold. The exact same color as the werewolves I just killed. I slam on the brakes. The car screeches to a halt on the empty road. I stare at the mirror, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped animal. The gold fades. My eyes go back to brown. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white and my fingers ache. "It was the moonlight," I whisper to myself. "Just the moonlight playing tricks." But deep down, in a place I do not want to look, I know that is a lie.