Silver moonlight pierced through the ancient oaks of Hampstead Heath, casting long shadows across my face as I tracked the hunters' movements. My newfound werewolf senses picked up their acrid scent - gun oil and silver, a deadly combination that made my stomach churn. Three months ago, I'd been nothing more than a corporate executive nursing a broken heart. Now, I stood at the edge of a centuries-old clearing, helping coordinate the defense of a werewolf pack against trained killers."They're moving into position along the eastern perimeter," I whispered to Callum, my voice barely audible even in the stillness of the night. Despite everything between us - the betrayal, the lies, the pain - we fell into an easy rhythm of cooperation. His massive frame shifted slightly, unconsciously shielding me from the bitter autumn wind."How many?" His low voice sent an involuntary shiver down my spine, reminding me of easier times. Of passionate nights and whispered promises that now lay in ruins
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