It was a good night to hunt a witch.
His pack had just finished rounding up the traitorous wolves who’d been harboring his latest target.
And Kieran Gallagher was more than ready to end another evil blight spreading her corruption upon the world before he returned home with his wolves.
It was hard for Kieran to think back to his life before he’d promised to eradicate the dark witches living among them.
They were cruel and evil and should have been wiped from the planet long before he’d started his mission of erasing their kind.
If they had been, he could only assume his life would have been vastly different than it was now. He would probably be mated with pups overrunning his home.
He might have even been happy, instead of a shell of a wolf with only the fuel of his burning rage, hatred, and his blistering guilt to keep him going.
During his centuries-long mission, he’d accrued one of the largest packs in America, the Havenwood Pack.
He’d recruited those who had faced something unfortunately similar to Kieran’s own pain, collecting strays along the way for his long vendetta.
Wolves who had lost their way because of witches, demons, vampires, and the like, found themselves within Havenwood.
His pack wasn’t the most stable, but it was one of the most ferocious, and that was an honor to hold among wolves, especially in his line of work.
He’d spent the last several hundred years killing off witches any way he could manage.
He typically focused only on the dark witches, but oftentimes rumors of a light witch on the verge of crossing into a dark craft reached his ears.
He always stopped them before they reached their full wicked potential.
He never truly cared what type of witch he killed, anyway. The best kind of witch was a dead one, plain and simple.
The only drawback to protecting others from becoming like him was that the more he killed, the darker the stain on his soul became, until he’d begun to feel nearly nothing at all.
Even his wolf lay near dormant inside him, its presence dimming more and more each year. He knew what that meant. Kieran was dying slowly but was unable to change course now.
He wouldn’t know how to redirect his life even if he tried, and nothing in centuries had mattered to him but vengeance.
He was on such a warpath annihilating his enemies in North America that he’d been too busy to claim the title of head alpha in his region.
He did not want additional responsibilities when he was too invested in killing off the scum of the earth.
That’s what had led him to the Rainstorm Pack tonight, despite a full moon riding his wolves hard.
Most wolves would want nothing more than to fight or fuck on a full moon, driven by their most primal instincts, but Kieran was strong enough to resist the pull, as his wolf lay quiet, especially when there was a witch to hunt.
He’d brought with him wolves that he felt could be trusted and in control of their counterparts while they invaded another pack’s lands.
He’d deal with Rainstorm’s betrayal of their alliance later, once he captured the witch.
Already the handful of wolves he’d brought with him were scouring the surrounding area, blocking off exit routes, cornering Rainstorm Pack members, and making their way to the main house.
One of his wolves shoved hard at a captured bear shifter, murmuring a few taunting words that Kieran could hear from behind the wheel, smirking as he coordinated his next moves.
No one expected an attack on a full moon, and his plan had been perfect, taking over a pack without so much as a scratch on his own wolves.
Squinting through the windshield of his SUV, Kieran stepped from the vehicle and called out to his beta. The jackass turned toward him, smiling slightly before sauntering in his direction.
Tyler Ward was his best friend and a pain in his ass. Younger than Kieran by a few hundred years, Tyler had a liveliness to him that Kieran knew had long died out in himself.
Aside from his vengeance, Kieran lived a bleak existence.
If he gave a shit about himself, he might even admit he was lonely. Not that males like him deserved to be happy.
His hands were stained with so much damned blood sometimes he swore all he could see was red.
“What’s the status on our witch?”
Tyler shook his head. “The wolves we’ve apprehended aren’t telling us anything. They’re loyal to a fault.”
Both males were of similar height, their shoulders brushing as they stared off at the captured shifters.
Kieran raised his eyebrows. “Seems they think a dark witch deserves protection from me. Perhaps a bit of torture will sort them out.” The words tasted foul but were necessary.
As a rule, his pack didn’t dole out torture to fellow wolves unless there was no way around it. But a pack harboring a dark witch? That was cause for whatever torture Tyler could come up with.
“That’s just it, Alpha. The only thing Alpha Taylor has uttered is that she’s a light witch. Nonpracticing.”
“If that were the case, they wouldn’t have felt the need to hide her.”
Tyler shrugged. “They might have if they feared you backing out of the alliance with them. Their pack isn’t exactly known for their formidability.
“Maybe they thought to hide her and still use our name for protection.”
Possibly, but it didn’t matter now anyway, as Kieran had received word the hidden witch was performing dark rituals on Rainstorm land.
Now it was his job to take her out and sort out the mess this pack had created.
Patting his friend on the back, Kieran turned away, leaving Tyler to handle the questioning however he saw fit.
The Rainstorm Pack was knowingly hiding a witch from her own fate.
And unless it could be proven that they were under the coercion of dark magic, then they were in breach of the alliance, and Kieran was well within his rights to declare war.
He felt a fissure of unease, for the first time in years questioning his own judgment.
Hadn’t a witch cursed him once to believe anything her foul lips had spewed? It was possible another witch was doing the same to this pack.
Maybe he should rethink harming these people until he had his target in his clutches.
The thought was enough to pull him away from the excuses he was willing to provide for the Rainstorm Pack.
His fists clenched at his side before he wiped the nonexistent blood from his palms and onto his jeans.
A scream tore through the air, faint, but his ears twitched all the same.
His beast stirred at that scream, stretching for the first time in ages, causing Kieran’s skin to itch as he was driven by the urge to shift.
Kieran paused, breath catching. He’d not felt that inclination in a decade at least.
Tyler approached from the south. “Did you hear—”
“KIERAN!” That voice… Familiarity resonated through him as a woman’s terrified scream echoed through the trees.
His wolf howled, awakening at that sound, and Kieran’s own answering howl tore from his throat, his head lifted to the sky. Several other howls echoed after, compelled by his hungry call.
Without another thought, he was sprinting through the woods, muscles bunching as he leapt over rocks, fallen logs, whatever was in his way.
He nearly felled a tree, slamming into it hard in his haste to get to that voice.
He wasn’t even sure who “her” was, only that everything inside him compelled him to move faster, to be quicker. Time was of the essence, but he wasn’t sure for what.
After what felt like an eternity, Kieran stumbled across one of his wolves, Joe, straddling an unconscious woman, one hand holding her face into the dirt and the other grabbing at himself through his pants.
Her sweater appeared to be torn, and she was covered in filth, the signs of her struggle evident. Kieran’s breath lodged in his throat at her still form, a visceral instinct propelling him forward.
His wolf howled again, the noise ringing in Kieran’s head.
Kieran snarled low in his throat, the noise startling Joe, who quickly dropped his hands, eyes popping open.
The smell of Joe’s fear permeated Kieran’s senses, not unusual for someone like him to scent when he was around weaker wolves.
Joe hobbled backward, landing on his ass, his eyes shifting to a bright blue as his wolf came to the forefront, no doubt sensing he had just become Kieran’s prey.
Kieran would have overlooked the wolf’s trepidation, but it was the other smells that really pissed him the fuck off and had his newly awakened wolf slamming into him to break through and take over, snapping and snarling in rage.
He could smell the sweet tang of her blood, though he didn’t see any liquid spilling onto the forest floor.
Her fear stood out most of all, mixed with a heady scent of lavender and vanilla and the earthy scent of a witch.
All at once, he felt strangely aroused, protective, and ready to kill his own fucking pack member for touching her.
For harming a witch? Kieran shook his head to clear his warring thoughts, but the insistence of his wolf grew louder until it was drowning out his inclination to kill her.
He struggled to control his wolf, determined to get a hold of himself, but it was impossible.
The fight within him ended when Joe moved, Kieran’s eyes locking onto the shifter as he allowed his wolf to the forefront, not to shift, but to guide his next steps.
A snarl ripped from his throat. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he slowly stalked toward the pathetic piece of shit who’d been holding her down.
He nearly groaned at the thought, his lungs taking in more of her scent, feeling both grounded and murderous.
Joe thought to harm what didn’t belong to him?
Red filled Kieran’s vision as a blind rage took over, his wolf begging to be released fully so it could tear the flesh from Joe’s body.
His kill? His witch? Kieran didn’t give a fuck at the moment, clearing the space between him and his prey.
He lifted his packmate effortlessly, one massive hand throwing his subordinate to the ground, not allowing Joe the time to shift as he kicked him repeatedly, relishing in the bones snapping beneath his booted foot.
Joe cried out in anguish, the pitch high and grating.
What a sweet sound.
A sort of haze filled him, more blood scenting the air. His mind was only consumed with one thought.
