4. The organization.

I took a detour, turning off the main roads, driving a few miles away from my home into the depths

of nowhere. The further I went, the more the landscape changed—trees closing in, streetlights disappearing, civilization fading. Most people wouldn't even know this place existed.

And that was exactly how the Silver Order wanted it.

I pulled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse, rusted, overgrown with weeds, an old "keep out!" sign nailed to the fence. But I knew better.

I parked the car,  My heart was still racing from the interview, but I forced my nerves to steady. Walking up to the rusted back wall, I reached beneath a loose metal panel, fingers finding the hidden keypad embedded inside. I quickly punched in the first code, a soft beep. Next, I pressed my thumb to the scanner, a another beep. Then, came the final test, a small screen flipped open, revealing a retinal scanner. I stepped forward, letting the blue light scan my eye, a click. Then, the sound of massive gears shifting.

The rusted panel slid back, revealing a steel doorway beneath the façade of decay. A green light blinked. Access granted. I stepped inside, the doors sealing shut behind me as I descended a dimly lit stairwell. With every step, I could hear it, the sound of something alive.

And then, the stairwell opened into something massive, the true "Silver Order".

The underground facility stretched out before me, miles of advanced technology, training grounds, weapon testing chambers, and research labs.

Hunters moved in tight formations, sparring with silver coated weapons.

Scientists worked in sealed chambers, developing new ways to kill werewolves more efficiently.

Massive walls were lined with firearms, blades, and enhanced gear meant for one purpose: extermination.

This wasn't just an organization, this was war. I barely had time to take it in before a voice called out. "Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up." I turned just as Victor Shaw stepped into view, arms crossed, his sharp green eyes flickering with amusement. Victor was one of the head strategists of the Silver Order. One of the best. But more than that... he was my closest friend.

"Alexis," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You look like hell." I rolled my eyes. "Nice to see you too, Shaw." His gaze flickered over me, too perceptive, too knowing.

"Something's off with you." He frowned. "What happened?" I hesitated. Because how the hell was I supposed to tell him that I just had a job interview with a man who might be the very thing we're hunting? And worse? That I didn't know if I wanted to kill him... or if I wanted to see him again.

Victor walked beside me, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tactical pants.

I knew that look he had on his face,  he had questions, and I wasn't ready to answer any of them. Not about the ambush, not about the fact that I barely survived. And definitely not about Dante Salvador.

But before he could ask, he exhaled sharply and said, "Monroe wants to see you."

I faltered for just a second.

Victoria Monroe.

The head of the Silver Order. most people called her The Demon of the Hunt. I had seen her break grown men with a single glare, her presence alone enough to make even the most experienced hunters sweat. And now, she wanted to see me.

That was never a good sign. Victor smirked, side, eyeing me as we made our way toward the upper command offices. "Try not to piss her off, Sullivan." I rolled my eyes, but my stomach coiled tight because Victoria Monroe wasn't the kind of woman you pissed off and walked away from.

The command center was a stark contrast to the rest of the facility. No weapons, no training mats, no blood or sweat. Just cold metal, reinforced walls, and Victoria Monroe. She stood behind a massive steel desk, arms crossed, expression carved from stone.

And she was just as terrifying as ever. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight bun, deep scars lining the left side of her face, cutting through her brow and disappearing beneath her sharp jawline but the most striking thing about her? Her arm.

A sleek, black cybernetic limb, designed for maximum destruction, complete with enhanced strength, retractable blades, and god knows what else, she looked like a warrior forged from war itself.

And I wasn't alone. Because across the room, leaning against the wall with a bored expression and infuriating beauty, was Sarah Lambert.

Sarah Lambert was perfect. The kind of woman who never had a hair out of place, never had a scratch that didn't somehow make her look better. She was beautiful in a way that made men turn their heads and made women hate her for it.

Soft blonde waves, piercing blue eyes, full lips that always seemed to be smirking. And she wasn't just a pretty face, she was one of the Order's best.

And I hated her. Not because of her looks. Not even because of her reputation, I hated her because along with her good looks and skills, she had a huge personality to match.

Unlike me, Sarah didn't have to prove herself. She was born into the order, handed opportunities I had to fight for with blood and sweat, and I wasn't the only one who knew it.

She smirked as I stepped inside, arms folded, her eyes dripping with amusement. "Well, well, well," she drawled. "They dragged you in here too?" I clenched my jaw. Already wanted to punch her.

Victoria didn't give either of us time to speak. She slammed her metal hand down on the table, the impact echoing through the room. And just like that, the air shifted.

Deadly. Heavy. Serious. "Listen up," Victoria said, her voice rough, edged with steel. "Because I'm not repeating myself." I straightened. So did Sarah. Victoria's piercing gaze cut through both of us.

"You both had the same incident. A werewolf hunt gone sideways. An ambush."

I stiffened, my mind flashing back to last night. The wolves waiting for me. The overwhelming force. The fact that I should have died.

Sarah's smirk faded. She was listening now.

Victoria continued, her expression dark. "And you're not the only ones." A sharp silence settled over the room. "There have been two more cases. And those hunters?" She exhaled through her nose. "They didn't make it." My stomach turned.

Sarah didn't say anything, but I saw the flicker of something in her eyes. We weren't just talking about bad luck. This was organized, deliberate, and A pattern.

Victoria leaned forward, her robotic hand flexing against the desk. "That means one thing." Her gaze sharpened. "We have a mole." A chill raced down my spine.

Someone within the Silver order was working with the werewolves. Someone was feeding them our plans, our locations, our movements.

The room felt smaller. I didn't trust anyone here. And now? I trusted them even less.

Victoria let the weight of her words settle before she continued. "No one speaks of this outside this room. Until we find the bastard, we act like nothing is wrong. Understood?" I nodded, forcing my expression into something neutral.

Sarah hesitated, then nodded too.

Victoria exhaled, rolling her shoulders. "Good. Because you're both working together from now on." I nearly choked.

"What?" I snapped. Sarah turned to me, equally disgusted. "You've got to be kidding."

Victoria wasn't kidding.

She met my glare with cold finality. "You two are now a unit. Effective immediately."

I ground my teeth. This couldn't be happening. Sarah looked just as pissed but tried to play it cool, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "Guess we'll be spending a lot of time together, sweetheart."

I had to physically restrain myself from reaching for the knife strapped to my thigh.

But Victoria wasn't done. "This is bigger than your bullshit. We're being hunted. We're losing people. And if either of you screws this up?" She smiled. A cruel, wolfish smile. "I'll kill you myself."

Silence. No one spoke, because when Victoria Monroe said something, she meant it.

And now? I was officially stuck with Sarah Lambert.