The Wayward Mate

Chapter One.

“Whatever's asked to me I perform. I rip through the rain into the eye of the storm, still carrying the flame, eye of the torch. Failure comes at a price I can't afford.”  Avalon, Professor Green.

 

“Your new mission details are in the packet. Fail and you know what’ll happen.”  I nodded, showing the man in front of me that I understood. He would kill my little sister if I failed this one, like he did to my twin brother.

Rieker is the head hunter of the Supernatural Hunters Association (SHA). We specialise in espionage, sabotage, infiltration, and assassinations. He’s been in this business forever. He was immortal, human, or so it seemed, but immortal. He’s a cold, ruthless bastard; exactly what got him to the top, what makes him so good at his job.

He looked after himself; he was muscular and fit, a few inches taller than me at 6’1”, with cropped brown hair and tanned skin.  He had chapped lips that were always pursed in annoyance, surrounded by a light amount of stubble and three slight scars on his face, two on his cheek and one just below his lips.

He had cold, calculating grey eyes, like a snake always watching, always waiting to pick out any mistake to punish me for. They showed no emotion, fear or empathy, no regret.

I sat in an old, scratchy chair that was placed in front of his desk as he watched me with those cold eyes. My hands twitched, begging to let me kill him. I could think of fifty off the top of my head.

A bullet to any major organ, a knife or the paper opener on his desk to any major artery, slit throat, impaled heart or lung, disembowelling, any of the poisons I carry on me, strangulation, a hit to the temple, Adam’s apple, ear, eyes or kidney; any of these places would result in his death within minutes because of my werewolf strength.

Unfortunately he had bargaining chips that were worth their weight in gold to him; my family.

“Your assignment is in Catalonia, we need the files from their pack house and the alpha female dead.”

I nodded and stood, collecting the packet he was holding out to me.

“You have two weeks. Make it quick, clean and untraceable. If you are seen dispose of all witnesses and if you’re caught you know what to do.”

I nodded again and walked out of the office.

This is my life now: a cold, heartless killer.

I walked into my plain white room and grabbed a duffle bag from out under my bed. My room looked more like a guest bedroom than my bedroom. It was almost white with a plain double bed with cream cotton bedspread and pillows, white lamp, a plush cream chair, two windows on the west and north facing sides with bulletproof glass, a high ceiling, bedside table and wardrobe containing both my clothes and weapons.

I opened my wardrobe and packed my clothes in; mostly consisting of jeans, boots, plain shirts and my mission gear; split-toed tabi boots, trousers with double-ties which fasten at the ankles, knees and waist, and a scarf that serves as a mask and hood, all in black.

I only packed enough for a few days; I wasn’t planning on sticking around after I’d gotten the files and assassinated the target.

I packed few weapons, mostly multipurpose, nothing that I couldn’t conceal on my body. They were necessary because it was too messy to shift. Rieker wanted it done clean, inconspicuous and fast.

A few knives of different lengths and builds, Shaken which are small metal blades used for throwing, a simple Glock 19 because I loved killing up close and personal and Dokubarinage that are poisoned metal needles for throwing. I didn’t need much else because the best weapons I had weren’t guns or knives, but my bare hands, claws and teeth.