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Something caught his eye, and he crouched down to inspect it, as if he were looking for evidence.

It was a new level of weird, that Colton was keeping up appearances when there was no one there to see him do it. He’d come into the woods alone, not knowing I was following him, pretending to do what? Investigate?

Maybe he truly didn’t remember what happened. But that wasn’t realistic. He didn’t routinely wake up in the woods the morning after a murder; there was no way he didn’t know he turned into a fucking werewolf.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the questions. They didn’t matter. Trying to justify or understand him wasn’t going to go well for me. Furthermore, I didn’t need to understand anything about him. All I needed to do was kill the bastard. Colton was a monster.

A monster who embraced me. Who kissed me. Who pretended he cared about me.

I licked my lips as I centered Colton’s head in my scope. Right in my crosshairs. My finger twitched on the trigger. But I hesitated.

Me.

Hesitating.

In killing a monster.

The monster who killed my parents, if I were correct. And all of my instincts, plus the information I’d collected over the past few weeks, told me I was. It was Colton. It all lined up. It would’ve been his first or one of his first turnings, prom night. He had disappeared for a period of time that night—right when my parents were being murdered.

He had never left this town. Why would he? It was teeming with potential victims. He could control all the variables, could cover his tracks. It was the ultimate hunting ground.

My brain throbbed as I went through the details of that night, the same ones I’d gone over for the past decade. I’d memorized every moment, trying to understand what I might’ve done differently that could’ve changed things. Left earlier. Later. If I’d insisted that my parents go to the party at Colton’s parents’ house instead of staying home alone together.

As if a dumb teenager could’ve changed a thing that night.

Except they could’ve. That dumb teenager being Colton Hughes, star quarterback, prom king, bloodthirsty werewolf.

We’d argued that night, hadn’t we? About my plans to go out of town for college, his to stay close. His plan was to get engaged before we were out of high school. He’d mentioned it, offhandedly, lips loosened by the beers he’d had earlier—uncharacteristic of him. He never drank when he was driving. Respectable. Honorable. Even when I didn’t want him to be. Even when I hungered for him to push the limits, break the rules.

My lips had also been loosened by the vodka I’d shared with my friends, telling him I had no desire to be stuck in a small town and pop out his babies. That I wanted more.

Colton ended up storming off, me running to the dance floor to angrily dance with my girlfriends before drinking more vodka.

We’d decided the prom was lame, eager to get to the after-party at Jason Eton’s place. However, I’d gotten a bad headache and was sad over the inevitable end of my dream relationship, so I had just wanted my mom, resulting in me going home.

To find my parents’ corpses. And my boyfriend wearing a werewolf’s skin and their blood.

In all the years I’d racked my brain, trying to figure out who the wolf was, in all my time here, I hadn’t even considered Colton. He was too good. Down to his core. Humane. Not once had my instincts prickled in his presence. Not once.

Personal feelings had clouded my judgment.

And now I was letting them breed doubt as I put gentle pressure on the trigger, not having the courage to pull.

“Get it together, bitch.” I straightened my shoulders, narrowed my eyes, and got ready to kill the only boy I’d ever loved, the only man I thought was decent.

Until the gun was ripped from my hands.

I reached for my handgun, ripping it from its holster at my ribs without hesitation, pointing it toward … Gerald?

I blinked at the man unloading the clip of my rifle before tossing it away. He wasn’t armed, proving it by raising his hands in surrender as I held my gun steady, pointed at his heart.

My gaze flickered to the left, where Colton was still kneeling, inspecting the foliage, pretending to look for the predator doing the killing when all he needed to do was look in a fucking mirror.

I considered trying my luck with the handgun. I was a good shot, even at that distance. I had a decent chance at a headshot. But then I’d have to deal with Gerald. And if he had followed me out there, without me knowing, it meant he was tangled up in this somehow too. So I’d have to take care of him as well.

My stomach lurched at the mere thought of taking out father and son.

“Don’t do it,” the plea was soft, resigned.