Selena returned to the hunters' village with her party.
Lady Kings, as usual, wouldn't stop boasting, rallying the men to sing songs of war as though she were Hercules or David.
The villagers came out in droves, cheering and tossing spoils of gratitude as their horses passed by, their voices mingling with the quiet hums of passing cars.
Horses were always the better companions for hunting; they didn't startle the werewolves like vehicles often did.
Selena felt an odd presence within the crowd.
How long had it been since their hunt? Nearly a month.
She had been so busy that she'd nearly forgotten about her "werewolf pup." She hoped he was doing well; otherwise, she'd have to release him back into the wild.
"Feeling bad you're not the winner this time, Lady Selena?" Kings jabbed, riding ahead toward Lord Eric, who stood waiting proudly.
Selena kept her expression neutral. There was nothing to be proud of—not really. They had annihilated the scattered werewolves, forcing the rest to flee and hide entirely out of sight.
Her hands tightened on the reins. It was bad—worse than she wanted to admit.
The werewolves would change territories, form new alliances. This wasn't a victory; it was a prelude to war.
An arrow suddenly whistled through the crowd, heading straight for Selena. She caught it mid-air, snapping the shaft in two.
Before she could locate the shooter, they had vanished.
"An assassination attempt in broad daylight?" she muttered under her breath, glaring at the broken arrow.
"The General is under attack!" someone screamed, and a hundred soldiers immediately surrounded Selena in a tight circle, shielding her horse.
She tisked in irritation. "Perfect," she thought.
Her gaze fell on Lady Kings, who looked far less concerned about the attack and more annoyed that Selena was, once again, stealing the spotlight.
Selena scanned the crowd, her sharp eyes cutting through the sea of faces. Then, amidst the chaos, she saw something—or someone.
A ghost, perhaps. A figure with an aura unlike any she'd ever encountered.
It moved gracefully through the throng of villagers, vanishing almost as quickly as it appeared.
And then the scent hit her, flooding her senses, making her breath hitch.
She blinked, and he was gone.
"Disarm!" Selena ordered sharply. The soldiers hesitated but obeyed, creating space around her. She dismounted her horse, her gaze locked on the crowd.
Her eyes zeroed in on an old man.
She strode up to him, yanking him forward by the arm. Without hesitation, she flicked her lighter and set his clothes ablaze.
He began to sweat profusely, trembling under her piercing gaze.
"Well?" she demanded, her voice low and menacing. "What are you waiting for? If you don't turn, you'll burn."
The fire licked at his flesh, his bones cracking as he transformed into a black werewolf.
"A spy!" someone in the crowd exclaimed.
The soldiers seized him immediately, shackling him with six chains.
"Put him in a cell," Selena commanded coldly. "I'll interrogate him personally."
The werewolf snarled but didn't resist as they dragged him away.
Selena finally approached her father, who greeted her with open arms.
"My daughter," he said warmly, embracing her. "Welcome home."
She stiffened in his arms, guilt tugging at her. "I didn't do well, Father."
"No matter," he replied with a smile. "There's time to replan."
His words were kind, but she could tell his thoughts lingered on other matters—like marrying her off.
"Can you ease off the guards, please? I'm fine," she insisted.
Her father took her hand, frowning at the blood still trickling from her wound.
"You're bleeding," he said gravely. "You'll remain under 24/7 surveillance until the assassin is caught."
Selena froze. It hit her then: this was exactly what her father wanted.
Later, in her chambers, she paced restlessly.
Her thoughts turned to her werewolf. She needed to see him.
She picked up the clothes she'd gotten from the witch—clothes that would mask his scent and form.
She sighed heavily.
Just one more week.
Then, she could finally see him.