"Are you ready?"

Melanie could feel Keith's voice in her head, and was glad that she shared a form of communication with her Mate that didn't require any speaking at all. With just a bit of concentration, she thought out her reply. "In position, ready for the trap."

Fifty meters down the dark alley, Melanie could see their four targets looking around, waiting for a Triad representative that was never going to come. Blanco and his men were in full SWAT regalia, while the Lieutenant was still wearing his normal duty wear, a simple off the rack suit that screamed of cheapness. Melanie looked up to the rooftops, where she knew Keith was waiting. Meanwhile, on the other side of the alley, she knew Kimberly was waiting to close the jaws of the trap. She waited until the count of ten, then stepped out of the doorway she was in. She brought her Steyr AUG rifle to her shoulder, before calling out to the four men. "Drop 'em, boys," she called. "If I don't see weapons on the ground in three seconds, you're all dead men."

All four corrupt cops whirled to face Melanie, with Holdings and Maxwell jerking their SWAT MP7's up. Melanie squeezed her trigger once, sending a burst into the ground in front of them. "Drop it, I said. Blanco, if your boys don't listen, you're going to be looking for some new pit bulls for your team."

"I know that voice," the Lieutenant called back, keeping his hands clearly out to his sides. "Richter, is that you?"

"Damn right."

"Huh, woulda thought you'd be dog food by now. Or more likely dog shit."

"Not at all, Lieutenant. I've had a wonderful past couple of weeks. Met some really interesting people who said they want to meet you."

She could see the Lieutenant flinch at the innuendo. "You just keep those freaks away from me," he said, his eyes immediately darting around.

"Turn yourselves in and confess, and they won't ever have to come out to play," Melanie replied, only feeling a small twinge of guilt at the lie. She knew that there was no way Keith or Kimberly would let these dirty cops leave the alleyway.

Blanco had stood next to the Lieutenant the whole time, confused about what the hell he and Richter were talking about. He wasn't in on the werewolf situation and thought that Richter was just rescued by some crazy guy playing Batman that night. "Fuck this," he muttered, reaching for his sidearm. He was fast, and his body was partially hidden behind Maxwell's, so Melanie didn't see him until he was already drawn, and the SWAT officer put two rounds in her chest.

Melanie felt like she had been hit with a sledgehammer. Her body armor held, the extra trauma plates absorbing the fatal energy, but she was still knocked back, breathless. She staggered to her knees, but before Blanco or his men could fire again, the night was pierced with two bone-chilling, yet oddly melodious howls. Keith and Kimberly were in the fight now, and they were in full wolf mode.

In the dark half light of the alleyway, Melanie couldn't see much, except for two huge shapes, each at least eight feet tall, one falling from the rooftop, the other bounding down the alleyway at a deceptively quick speed. Blanco and his men froze at the sight of Keith dropping onto a nearby parked car, crushing the roof like a soda can and setting off the car alarm. The Lieutenant, however, had known what to expect and immediately reached for his own sidearm. With one bound and sweep of his massive paw, Keith swatted the two-hundred-pound cop through the air to crash against the brick wall on the other side of the alley.

Recognizing their immediate threat, Maxwell and Holdings wheeled their sights onto Keith, who had turned to face them. His eyes were luminescent yellow, and the two fear stricken officers could hear the deep-throated growl rumbling in Keith's throat. Unfortunately for them, their attention was so drawn on Keith that they didn't see Kimberly until it was too late, as the female Alpha cleared the last bound, her teeth bared in a snarl that opened into a roar as she bit deeply into Maxwell's neck, decapitating the man with one snap of her jaws. Whirling, she grabbed Holdings and threw him head first into the brick wall behind her, his neck broken by the impact.

The whole time, Mathew "Teo" Blanco stood in utter fear. His grandmother, a crazy old bat from the northern parts of the old country, had filled his childhood with old wives tales, especially of the lycanthropes. Werewolves had terrified him as a child because of it, and to see his childhood nightmare descend from the sky and kill two of his best men in less than two seconds was too much. He felt his bladder go as he pissed himself, sinking to his knees in abject fear. His mind flooded with panic, and all he could do was watch as Keith stalked towards him. As he looked into the Alpha Male's eyes, Teo realized there was just one thing he could do. He closed his eyes and begged forgiveness from God. It had been a decade since he had seen the inside of a church, and he wasn't sure if anyone would even listen, but he begged anyway.

Keith paused in front of the stinking, babbling human, unsure. The stench of his urine soaked pants, combined with the rich coppery smell of blood from the other bodies, permeated the alleyway, making it hard to think. His inner nature screamed for the kill, for him to take his prey and devour. But the part of him he kept locked away during his changes, the part that allowed him to love Melanie, stayed his hand. He gazed at Blanco once more, before disdainfully swatting the man in the head, knocking him unconscious. He would let Melanie decide his fate.

Keith turned, and saw Kimberly already down the alleyway, helping Melanie up. Kim was already turning back into her human form to assist, and Keith dismissed them as he knew Melanie was uninjured. Instead, he focused his senses back on the silberjager, who he had hit earlier. Darting his eyes around, he could not see the man, the braying car alarm was disrupting his hearing, and the rich smells of blood and piss were not letting Keith track him by scent either. Where the hell was he?

Suddenly, Melanie pulled her Steyr gun to her shoulder and fired. Keith instinctively flattened himself down at the sound, his ears and shoulders lying as flat as possible. He could feel the bullet travel through his fur, just over his shoulder, where it impacted Yankowitz, who had been sneaking up behind him. Keith kicked backward, catching him in the stomach and driving him back into the brick wall. The silver knife he was carrying in his hand dropped to the pavement, and Yankowitz fell face first to the asphalt, dead.

Looking around at his slain enemies, Keith could feel the primal elation coursing through his veins. Looking to the sky, he tilted his head back and howled once again, his sonorous cry echoing throughout the Southside alleys and tenements. Blocks away, nervous mothers closed windows and held their babies closer, while in other side streets gangsters and hoodlums ran for the nearest indoor shelter. There would be no more crime in the Southside that night.