Chapter 4

Mira removed her shirt before her lips let out a quick hiss. A large purple bruise appeared behind her right rib. She recognized she had a fractured rib when she pressed her palm against the bruise. An ordinary werewolf's damaged bone would take a week to mend. Mira, on the other hand, was exceptional. In her situation, a fractured bone might heal in an hour or two, depending on the degree of the fracture.

While the water was gushing out of the tap, she tore a couple of bags of ice cubes and tossed them into the bathtub. Mira moaned happily as she dipped her body into the freezing water. The ice would dull her body's soreness and exhaustion. Her job required more than just tracking down fugitives on occasion. She agreed to contract killings. She was an outlaw who relished every moment of it. Laws didn't apply to her, yet there were times when Mira wouldn't cross a line. She was well aware of her objectives and made every effort not to become distracted.

She rested her head against the side of the bathtub, drowsy. She was no longer unconscious in a matter of seconds.

# Mira's memory,

A soft voice called out from afar, "Help...us..."

When she opened her eyes, she was dragged back into the deepest recesses of her memory.

Slavery's campsite.

Her captors transported her from one encampment to the next every day. They never kept her for more than three days at a time. They had been tasked with continuing his work since he had left.

Him…

"Mira, don't fight it." They said to her "It would harm you more."

They stood by her side, as though they accepted what had happened.

"You won't be able to save them, Mira. You'd never be able to save anyone."

She noticed that her white garment was stained with blood when she looked down. Her hands, as well. The scene then shifted. Hundreds, if not thousands, of bodies, lay in a pool of blood on the floor. She was standing in the middle of a field littered with bodies. Smoke filled the horizon. Although the cloud had darkened, she felt incredibly content.

#

Mira exclaimed as she awoke from her slumber. It didn't feel like a dream as it was eerily genuine. As she repositioned herself in the freezing bathtub, her hands trembled. It happened once more. For the past two months, she had the same dream. It was never a part of her real memories, yet it stalked her in her dreams as if it wanted to warn her about what might happen.

Mira moaned in exasperation as her damaged rib began to heal. Before the fractures healed completely, they shifted beneath her skin, rearranging themselves in the proper location. The ice water didn't completely alleviate the discomfort. She shifted around in the tub, attempting to bear the agony of the healing process.

She parked her motorcycle in front of Grover's nightclub one hour later. She had no intention of appearing in such a packed public location as the nightclub. Not when she could smell every foul odor and hear all sorts of sounds. Her heightened senses were both a blessing and a curse for her.

But Mira still felt the need to clear her mind.

As she moved farther into the nightclub, the stench of sweat clogged the air. Everyone was visible to Mira's eyes, especially the Enforcers. 

Mira Red was well-known, but no one knew her true past—a story she had buried deep within herself. For the time being, it was best if she kept her Mira Red persona to the public while her true narrative was buried.

As she sat at the bar, Mira ordered a scotch.

The bartender replied, "Coming right up."

Mira's mind was preoccupied with her mate's images. She came here to take a break from worrying about it. The more she tried not to think about it, the more images of him began to arise in her mind. With a shake of her head, she concentrated on her genuine reason for visiting the nightclub. Jonathan Grover, the establishment's proprietor, was a human with supernatural knowledge and one of the Black Market's primary contacts.

The Black Market was more than just a place where people could buy illegal weapons, drugs, body organs, and other close-to-illegal items in the supernatural world. It also supplied information and contracts, such as assassination, bounty hunting, and the distribution of classified files, to name a few. Nobody had ever discovered the Black Market's location. Nobody had any idea where it was. Everything took place over a secure line. Nobody knew who was on the other end of the phone. The Operator was the person who answered the phone calls about the Black Market.

Nobody knew how many operators were in charge of all the phone calls. Everyone who had a contract with the Black Market was assigned a code. There were no real names used. Simply put, code. The Operator used this method to identify their clients and contractors.

Grover maintained a watchful eye on non-human people. He called it professional civility, but he sought to ensure the survival of his own species. He also took care of all of his other responsibilities. Those that were legal. Otherwise, she'd be standing there with her legs crossed and daggers drawn, waiting for him.

Mira's nostrils picked up the same musky aroma after a while. She became addicted to the same perfume. He was close by. Her intense blue eyes surveyed the crowd until she noticed him sitting in the VIP 9 booth with two other men. They were his Beta and Gamma, his second and third in command. An Alpha would never travel without his two officers.

His plain black shirt enveloped his upper torso, revealing his muscular body's strong outlines. Mira couldn't deny that the Alpha was oozing sex appeal for someone his age—a feast for a lady like her—despite their lousy encounter earlier. The scars on his arms and neck indicated that he had been in numerous conflicts. She had heard of his victories in the decades-long struggle against the vampires.

Since the beginning, the two species had been at odds with one other.

"It's your scotch." The bartender stated as he placed a second drink of Scotch in front of her, "courtesy of the guy on VIP 9 booth."

Mira laughed. She was neck-and-neck with Alpha about two hours ago, and now he was paying for her drinks. She was curious as to what might happen next.

"Handsome, what do you know about them?"

"Sweetheart, they're the regulars here as well, except for the tall gentleman," the bartender replied.

Because the Alpha was the tallest in the group, he stood out the most.

Mira touched the rim of her drink glass with her index fingertip. "It seems like there's always a first time for everything, huh?"

The bartender moved his gaze closer to hers. "How about you, sweetheart? Is there such thing as a first time?"

She wanted to continue the conversation, but she was worried that someone would object. She didn't much care for the bartender. On the other hand, Mira refused to testify as a first-hand witness. The Council of Werewolves would go to any length to bring her in. Furthermore, Alpha possessed the most possessive and jealous characteristics.

With her index finger, she tapped the bartender's nose. Mira burst out laughing. "Zander, there is always an exception for everything."

He took his gaze away from hers. His mouth curved into a smile. "Boss is waiting for you upstairs."

Grover, who was peering down on the first floor of the nightclub, was visible through a glass-walled office. He was holding a drink in one hand and his other in the pocket of his jeans.

Mira murmured, "Get those gentlemen new drinks and put them on my tab this time. I don't enjoy being obligated to anyone."

"M'lady, your words are my order."

Mira sipped her drink before heading to the stairwell, where she had to stroll past the VIP 9 booth.

As she walked past the booth and towards the stairwells, she sensed Cohen's gaze was fixed on her. She was ready to call it a night, and whatever Grover had in store for her had to be worth it.

Grover's guys inspected her body for weapons as soon as she arrived at the office.

"Cut the nonsense, Grover," Mira stated. "I've been here innumerable times."

"Darling, it's better to be safe than sorry," the club owner grinned. He sat down in front of his desk.

She reminded him, "I could murder you with a snap of my fingers."

Her statement made Grover uneasy. But he managed to hide it. "I heard you finished your work. Your portion of the payment has already been deposited into your account."

"So, why did you want me to come here?"

"Your presence had made a minor commotion, dear. Someone was curious about you."

"Are you referring to the gentlemen in VIP 9?"

"Do you recognize them?"

She replied, "Cohen Kingsley."

Grover's reaction revealed that he had no idea he was hosting the town's owner in his nightclub. Still, she couldn't say she blamed the human. The nightclub was dimly lit, and he, unlike her, lacked enhanced senses. Cohen Kingsley didn't spend much time with people. He spent his time on the lookout for rogues like her. It wasn't surprising that no one in town knew who the Alpha was.

"Take it easy, Grover. He might just come here to have a good time like the rest of us," Mira soothed him.

"How could you be sure?"

Mira approached the glass wall and noticed the Alpha staring at her while his men were chatting with two women. Mira nibbled the inner flesh of her cheek when another woman approached him.

How could she get so envious so quickly?

She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "Because they obey their rules. The Alpha may have a spotless record, but it doesn't imply he would harm the innocent."

Grover chuckled as she finished her sentence. He repeated it, "Innocent."

"Don't forget that you have an advantage in this circumstance as a human. If he's desperate enough to break the rules, he might haul you in for questioning. Then he'll have to respond to the Council for taking matters into his own hands."

An uneasy feeling swept over her as soon as she finished her sentences. She received the impression that the Alpha would go to any length, even if it meant breaking the Werewolf's Council's laws. He was the head of the pack. The rules did not always apply to Alphas.

"How are you going to deal with them?" Grover asked, pouring another glass of drink for himself.

"It depends on what your employees and consumers tell them."

"They're clean. They have no idea who you are."

Mira disclosed as she examined both booths, "Booth 2 and 5 are bounty hunters. It'll only be a matter of time until Kingsley and his guys inquire about me."

"Those bounty hunters aren't going to give up their target." Grover took a sip of his Scotch. "Your bounty has been doubled. To bring you in for a bounty, they'd have to fight each other."

Mira turned around and walked over to his desk, where he handed her the envelope. "Wicked."

She smiled as she looked it over. Someone anonymous opened a contract for her head. Behind the contract was a golden card. A golden card gave Mira access to all the information she needed about the contract, including who opened it, who accepted it, and how the payment would be distributed to those who completed it. The presence of a golden card indicates that all information was accessible. The Black Market offered three different types of cards: golden, silver, and bronze. Silver indicated that there was just a limited amount of information available for viewing. There was no information available in bronze.

Grover watched the excitement on her face as he asked, "Do you want to see the information?"

Mira answered, "Don't bother."

She tucked it into the pocket of her jacket. It was the same old hunting regardless of the information. Her idea of fun was to kill bounty hunters. Mira despised the task of tracking down missing people. She couldn't handle the drama.

She drew her heels up to the front door. "I'll see you around, Grover."

"I'd rather not see you again," Grover grumbled.

Mira giggled as she walked out of the office. Cohen Kingsley seemed to be the man Grover feared the most at times. More outlaws than pack members frequented the nightclub.

What else would a human like him feel if he was doing business on Kingsley's land? The Southern Werewolves Pack constructed the town. They were the town's original settlers. The pack technically owned almost every business in town. When everyone witnessed the town's economy grow year after year, it drew people to live there. Only half of the town's human population knew the werewolves' presence.