Silver doesn't just burn werewolf flesh; it cooks it from the inside out. The smell was sickly sweet, a suffocating mix of roasting meat and battery acid.
Jane kept her palms pressed hard against the bullet hole in Michael’s chest. The blood pulsing between her fingers wasn't red. It was thick, viscous, and pitch-black. Poison.
The reinforced doors of the penthouse archives blew open. Three of Michael’s personal guards stormed in, assault rifles raised, their eyes flashing gold. The leader, a massive wolf named Vance, took one look at the shattered glass, the dead assassin on the floor, and his bleeding Alpha.
Vance dropped to his knees, his hands hovering uselessly over Michael. "Alpha—f**k. The Council—"
"Shut up."
The words left Jane's mouth flat and cold. The clinical detachment t
