Chapter 2 – A Possible Lead

Present Day

I wake up startled and panting as the memories of my first shift start to slowly fade to the back of my mind.

"What the fuck was that?" Enyo asks.

"That would be a nightmare, Enyo," I say as I breathe deeply, trying to calm my pounding heart.

"No shit, sherlock," she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Why are you dreaming of our first shift? That needs to be locked away and never thought of again."

"It wasn't all bad. Our first run was fun," I say as I get up out of bed to pee.

"Okay, so remember that part and forget the rest," she demands.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Like it's that easy," I huff.

"Whatever. Happy Birthday, by the way." I stop washing my hands and look up into the mirror. My eyes change to blue as Enyo pushes forward. "Do you think we'll find our mate straight away?" She asks excitedly.

"We don't have time for a mate," I sigh and go back to washing my hands.

"You're 18 now, Athena. We can find our mate and settle down. Isn't that the dream?"

"That's your dream. You know what my dream is," I say sternly, getting angry.

"Yeah, yeah. I miss dad too. But there's more to life than just tracking down his killer," Enyo says softly.

I can feel my rage bubbling, and I feel myself starting to shift. I take a deep breath and try to calm down.

"Just shift already! We haven't been for a run in weeks," Enyo whines.

I grip the bathroom counter and growl. "You're not helping Enyo," I say and look into the mirror, her eyes blazing back at me. "We're among humans. You know we can't expose ourselves," I say. She whimpers, pulling back begrudgingly and settles in the back of my mind.

"Thank you," I sigh as my eyes turn back to their usual emerald green. I splash some cool water on my face and look at myself in the mirror again. Flashbacks of the day my father was killed fill my mind. I can't believe he's been gone for 2 years. As tears form in my eyes, I sigh and shake my head, clearing the images from my mind. I put my dark auburn hair up in a tight ponytail then apply some mascara. I walk back into the room, pick up my suitcase from the floor, and place it on the bed. Rummaging through it, I grab a pair of black skinny jeans and a black turtleneck and get dressed.

Just as I'm putting my socks and hiking boots on, my phone rings. Looking at the screen, I see my mom's face. I sigh. I'm sorry, Mom, I just can't talk to you right now. Rejecting the call, I put my phone into the pocket of my jacket, put it on, and zip it up. I grab the motel key, car keys, and wallet and head out the door, locking it behind me.

I head over to my truck and get in, start her up and turn on the heater, wishing it was already warm. Goddess, it's cold today, I think as I shiver. While I wait for the truck to heat up, I pull my phone out of my coat, find the address I saved yesterday, and enter it into the GPS.

"Why are we going to see this old hunter? He's not going to know anything. If we die today, I'm gonna be furious," Enyo says.

"Stop being dramatic, Enyo. Derek said he knows what pack attacked us."

"Derek doesn't know his ass from his elbow," she snorts. "How do you know this isn't a trap?" She asks.

"Why would he do that? We pay him for information, and he hasn't steered us wrong before," I say as I hold my hands up in front of the heater vent.

"And yet we're no closer to the truth. He has not found a single lead on what happened that day. So, he's just taking our money." She grumbles.

"We'll see," I say as I put the truck into drive and pull out of the motel parking lot. I head north through town, turn onto Main Street and follow the GPS towards Bill Stokes ranch. I hate the city. I feel claustrophobic not being in the open space of the countryside. I spent the last six months travelling around and speaking to neighbouring packs trying to find information about my father's death. But no one could give me any information. So I've been in Billings, Montana, for 3 weeks now working with a private investigator, Derek Williams. This is the first lead he has found.

After being stuck in traffic for 20 minutes, we finally head out of the city and onto the open country road, and I feel like I can breathe again. As we drive along, I look out the windscreen, admiring the glistening snow that's covering everything as far as the eye can see. My heart clenches as I think about the last time we shifted and went running in the snow. Enyo is right. We really need to shift.

Another 20 minutes later, we finally come across the Stokes ranch. Pulling off the road, I stop at the small gate. I get out and try to open the gate to drive through, but it's padlocked with a chain. Looking around to make sure no cars are coming; I twist the padlock and break it in my hand. I pull the chain off, drop it on the ground, and open the gate.

I get back in my truck and drive through the gate and down the dirt road. There's no livestock in the paddock that I can see, and there's broken, rusted fences along the road. It looks like Bill Stokes has gotten too old to keep up with the maintenance. After a few minutes of driving slowly on the dirt road, I come upon a clump of enormous trees that begin to shade the road and darken the surrounding area with their dense tangle of branches and foliage. Then, after a few moments, they open up to a beautiful two-story ranch-style house. With glass windows from floor to ceiling on the left-hand side of the house, you can see a nice sitting area through the windows. I drive around the circular driveway and park near the front door. I look up at the house through the truck windscreen. It doesn't look like anyone's home.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and open the truck door. I step out but instantly freeze when I hear someone yell out, "STOP RIGHT THERE!" And the pump of a shotgun.