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He stepped into the tunnel, his movements quick and silent. The darkness engulfed him, but it wasn’t a hindrance. His vision, sharp and perfect in the absence of light, guided him forward as the tunnel began to slope downward. He could feel the cool, damp air clinging to his skin, the walls slick with moisture as if the tunnel had been carved out of the earth long ago, perhaps forgotten by those who had originally built it.
Wherever this path led, it was clearly not part of the chapel’s original design. He followed the narrow, winding passage deeper underground, the earth closing in around him. It smelled of damp stone and something older, more ominous. His instincts remained on high alert, every fiber of his being tuned to the subtle vibrations in the air, the faintest shifts in sound that could signal danger.
As he continued, the tunnel widened slightly, and Hunter caught sight of a faint glow ahead. His pace slowed, his sensessharpening. Whatever lay ahead, it was the source of the dark energy he’d been tracking. He moved forward cautiously, watching as the light grew stronger with every step. When he finally reached the end of the tunnel, he stopped just before the entrance to a cavernous underground chamber.
Hunter pressed himself against the stone wall, blending into the shadows. He didn’t need to see them yet to know that the witch and her vampire companion were close. Their foul magic hung in the air like a tangible force, crackling with malice. He edged forward, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him.
The chamber was large, its walls lined with ancient symbols glowing faintly. In the center stood the witch and the vampire, surrounded by a group of acolytes, their expressions reverent, their heads bowed as they chanted in unison. Hunter’s gaze shifted to the figure at the heart of the ritual. A woman—no, a shifter—was bound with chains of what looked to be iron, kneeling on the stone floor, her body trembling with fear. Her wide, terrified eyes darted between the chanting figures, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
Hunter clenched his jaw, his muscles tensing as he took in the gravity of the situation. This wasn’t some experiment gone awry, nor was it an attempt to simply seize power through force. The witch and her vampire companion were conducting a ritual—a ritual designed to drain the life force from the shifter and transfer it to themselves. The air was thick with malevolent magic, the chanting rising and falling in waves as the witch raised her arms, drawing power from the circle of acolytes around her.
The woman on the floor let out a soft, pitiful whimper, and Hunter felt something inside him twist. There was something deeply unsettling about the whole scene. The shifter should have felt like one of his own—he should have sensed the woman’snature the moment he entered the tunnel—but there had been nothing. No trace of the shifter's energy. It was as though that part of her had been muted, stolen.
The realization hit Hunter hard, and for a moment, his focus faltered. In his former life, before he had been turned into a vampire, he had been a shifter, too. A wolf-shifter, powerful and fierce. That part of him had been lost for centuries. It had taken a long time after the night he was made immortal for him to find his wolf again. Vampires could shapeshift, sure, but it wasn’t the same. The connection to his animal half had been severed and had taken a long time to heal, leaving him hollow in ways he tried not to think about. Seeing this shifter being drained, stripped of her essence, was like looking into a mirror of his own dark past. And it angered him.
He observed silently for several minutes, weighing his options. There were too many of them. The witch, the vampire, and at least six acolytes, all of them fully engaged in the ritual. Hunter wasn’t stupid—he knew taking them all on alone could end badly, even for him. But he couldn’t just wait for help. He worked alone; there was no cavalry coming, no backup he could call on. And he couldn’t leave the shifter here to die.
His mind raced, calculating the odds. His vampire abilities gave him certain advantages, but these enemies were formidable. The witch’s magic alone would be a challenge, not to mention the vampire, whose strength would be frightening, especially once the ritual was complete. But Hunter had one advantage—they didn’t know he was here. They were too focused on their task, too absorbed in their lust for power.
His decision was made in an instant. He wasn’t going to let this continue.
Without overthinking it, Hunter stepped back into the shadows and began to strip off his clothes, folding them neatly and tucking them behind a rock. He couldn’t afford to let themslow him down once the fight began. His movements were calm, controlled, even as he could feel his excitement and anticipation rising. The thrill of the hunt was a primal part of him that surged to the surface.
Once undressed, he closed his eyes, his body shifting, changing. This time, there was no puff of smoke, no simple, elegant transition. Hunter’s form rippled and contorted, his muscles expanding, bones snapping and reforming as he shifted into his most fearsome predator form. The beast he became was massive, a nightmarish blend of wolf and something far darker. His fur was pitch black, his fangs gleaming in the dim light as he let out a low, guttural growl. His blue eyes, sharp and predatory, glowed in the darkness.
This was the form that struck fear into the hearts of even the most hardened of enemies. It wasn’t just a predator—it was a monster.
In his animal form, he could breathe; his blood flowed, and his heart beat. He could be more easily injured in his shifted form than as a vampire. But he was also more powerful. He took a deep breath, steadying himself for the onslaught, and then launched himself forward.
The moment he burst into the chamber, chaos erupted. The acolytes screamed, scattering in every direction, their chanting breaking as they scrambled to escape the beast that had just torn into their ritual. The witch turned, her eyes widening in shock as she saw the hulking figure barreling toward them. She lifted her hands, ready to unleash her magic, but Hunter was faster. His massive claws struck the ground as he leaped into the air, slamming into one of the acolytes with a sickening thud.
The vampire, sensing the threat, moved next. He was tall, lithe, and quick; his fangs bared as he lunged for Hunter. But Hunter was already moving, twisting in midair as he bared his own fangs, clashing with the vampire in a flurry of teeth andclaws. They rolled across the floor, a violent tangle of snarls and growls, each trying to overpower the other. Hunter's claws slashed across the vampire’s chest, tearing through flesh and bone as they fought.
The witch shouted, her voice echoing through the chamber as she summoned a wave of magic to hurl at Hunter, but he was too close, too fast. He dodged the blast, his predatory instincts guiding him as he leaped over the fallen vampire and landed in front of the witch. His eyes locked onto hers, a cold, merciless promise of what was to come.
Before she could react, Hunter lunged, his massive jaws closing around her arm. She screamed, the sound high and piercing as she tried to pull away, but Hunter held fast, his fangs sinking deeper into her flesh. He could taste her blood, thick with power, but it wasn’t the same as the blood of other humans or shifters, for that matter. It was darker, more twisted, and he spat it out as he released her.
The vampire, now enraged, charged again, but Hunter was ready. This time, he didn’t hold back. He shifted mid-attack, his beast form blurring into his vampire body. The transition was seamless, and before the vampire knew what was happening, Hunter had his hands around his neck, slamming him into the ground with a force that cracked the stone beneath them.
“Enough,” Hunter growled, his voice low and dangerous as he loomed over the fallen vampire. His ice-blue eyes gleamed with deadly intent. “You’ve played your games long enough. My friend and I are leaving.”
Hunter removed the shackles and iron chains from around the woman’s wrists, helping her to her feet. He tried to pick her up, but she waved him off.
“No,” she rasped. “I can make it.”
“Like hell,” replied Hunter, looping her arm over his shoulder. He turned to the vampire. “I suggest you and yourwitch make haste and crawl back under whatever rock it was you came from. If we meet again, you will not live to walk away.”
The vampire spat, his eyes filled with hate, but he didn’t move. Hunter had made his point.
CHAPTER 3
MERCY
Mercy stirred from her uncomfortable position, slumped over the table deep in the archives of the old library. The scent of aged paper and leather surrounded her, but her neck ached from the awkward angle she’d fallen asleep in. She winced, her hand instinctively going to the knot that had formed at the base of her skull.How long have I been out?
Blinking against the dim light of the reading lamp, she took a moment to orient herself. The stone walls around her stood silent and watchful, the towering bookshelves casting long shadows across the floor. The room was cold, and the silence felt… different. Heavy.
Before she even looked up, she knew. She wasn’t alone.
