The gamekeeper’s son. After all this time, he’d come for me. I didn’t blame him. In his position, I’d have come for me, too.

In the single, agonising moment that the gun’s barrel pointed at me, all of the pieces fell into place. The boy had watched us from a distance, so he could figure out my weaknesses and find a way to get me alone. That medallion he wore … I ken now that the stag printed on the coin was the logo for the Stoneleigh Castle hunting lodge. I remembered it now, painted on a sign beside the high iron gates.

If he wanted revenge on me, then capturing and hurting Willow would be a fine way to do it.

“You killed my father,” growled the boy, his hands on the gun steady. There was no fear in his voice, only a cold, hard rage. “I watched you tear his throat out right in front of me. It’s taken me five years to track you down, but finally, I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”

Aye, that you do, lad.

I lowered myself onto my stomach, showing my submission. The boy lowered the barrel after me, so it continued to point directly at my face. I ken I should be shaking with fear or rage; I should be tearing him to pieces for daring to threaten me. But even my wolfish instincts gave way to the duty I felt toward this boy. All I had for him was a cold acceptance. This was right. It was proper. It was what I deserved.

“What does a murdering werewolf get for his crimes?” The boy continued, his voice dripping with hatred. “He gets a life. He gets a home and friends and a woman who loves him. How is that fair? My Ma left us after you killed Pa. My family is destroyed, because of you. I should take her from you, make you live with the pain of losing someone. An eye for an eye. But I’m not a murderer, like you. I was only going to warn her about you, about what you are. But she’s not going to listen. It’s better this way, if I rid the world of your evil, then she’ll be able to move on.”

I lowered my head. I couldn’t argue with him. He was right. I was a murderer.

“Well?” the boy snarled, shaking the gun, his whole body rigid. “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? Don’t you want to beg for your life like the flea-riddled mongrel dog you are?”

I met his eyes, and tried to convey my acceptance of his justice. I’d done a horrible thing, and because I was a wolf, I’d got away with it. The boy had sought the only justice he could get … the justice of revenge. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.

My life, for the life I’d taken.

The vision came at me, as clear as that winter night five years ago. Pa took me with him to meet one of his agents with a delivery. The Maclean pack had raided several of our drops over the last month, and Pa wanted to reach the meeting point as soon as possible, before the Macleans got wind of his plans. So we were taking a shortcut through the area of forest owned by Stoneleigh Castle Lodge.

To cover the ground quickly, we were in our wolf forms. Usually we wouldn’t risk being seen on the lodge’s land, where trigger-happy hunters lurked behind every tree. But Pa thought on such a miserable night, with the ground knee-deep in snow and a frigid cold wind blowing straight into our bones, no one would be out. Except there was.

We stayed deep in the trees, avoiding the herds of deer that were the main attraction for hunters. I dawdled behind, weighed down by the heavy bag of drugs piled into the sling fitted to my back. Pa howled, calling to me to hurry up. He was worried we’d be late for the drop. His howl must’ve drawn the attention of the gamekeeper, who came running down the slope of the next hill, just as my pa reached the top of the ridge.

To this day, I don’t know why the gamekeeper was out in that weather. As I saw the gamekeeper coming down the slope of the hill, I noticed he had a fox-trap in one hand. A rifle rested on his shoulder and a red-face teen trailed after him, wrapped up in several layers of thermal clothing and at least seven scarves. In a single, terrifying moment, the gamekeeper dropped the trap, grabbed his rifle, and let off a shot.

Pa went down, his nose landing in the snow. My heart leapt into my throat, and I bounded toward him, desperate to reach him. As I watched, a pink cloud spread out in the snow around him, and he forced his shift, so that by the time the gamekeeper and his son reached them, all they saw was a naked man dying in the snow.

The gamekeeper was yelling at the son. He kicked my father’s corpse, yelling about spells and witches. He ken he’d seen a wolf, but now he was staring down at the body of a man.

I shrugged the drugs off and took off running as fast as I could in the thick snow, climbing up the ridge at a snail's pace. Every part of my body was numb, but not from the cold. My pa was dead, and I ken what I had to do.

We’d run this drill a hundred times. Protect the pack at all costs. The gamekeeper had seen Pa transform. He ken our secret.

I reached the top of the ridge and leapt into the air, hitting the gamekeeper square in the stomach.

He toppled back into the snow. The rifle flew from his hands as he cowered beneath me. His hands shook as he tried to protect his face. My veins buzzed with hot, violent rage.

His eyes were wide with fear but I didn’t see it. All I saw was the man who’d killed my father. All I saw was my duty.

I sank my teeth into the gamekeeper’s neck and tore out his throat.

“Dad, no!” the boy cried, leaping toward us.

As soon as the acrid taste of the gamekeeper’s blood hit my tongue, a wave of shame rolled over me. I spat out the chunk of flesh, and forced my shift, until I was kneeling naked over the thrashing gamekeeper. His hands frantically clawed at his throat, as though he might somehow be able to push all the blood back inside. His mouth hung open, blood bubbling between his lips.

His son wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, trying to pull him to his feet. This only made his blood flow faster, staining the son’s scarves crimson. The son looked up and saw me, and he clasped his father’s head to his chest. “Please …” he begged. “Please help us.”

The fire of my rage still burned within me, and I dug my feet into the snow, knowing it was only moments before I attacked the son, too. “Go!” I screamed at him. “He’s dead, and you’ll be too if you don’t get out of here! If you say a word of this to anyone, I’ll be back to finish you.”

The boy didn’t hesitate. He whirled around and raced into the trees.

And now, that same boy stared back at me, his face hard with hate. Hate that I deserved, for murdering his father while he watched.

I’m the monster.

The boy switched off the safety.

My whole body itched to leap at him and knock that gun right out of his hands. My blood boiled in my veins, incensed that he dared to threaten me. But through the drive of my instinct, I managed to hold myself steady. I stared down my death with what little sense of honour I had left.

Blood pounded in my ears. In slow motion, I watched the boy’s finger squeeze the trigger.

Willow, I’m so sorry. I love you. I wish things were different, but this is what I deserve—

Just as the gun went off, a shape leapt out of the trees and crashed into the boy. The bullet whizzed past my face and embedded itself into a tree behind me. Caleb pinned the boy’s shoulders to the rock, his teeth bared, his ears flattened.

I tore myself from my trance and darted forward. Don’t hurt him, I cried at Caleb through the call.

He’s trying to kill you, Caleb growled, his teeth scraping the boy’s throat.

It’s his right. It’s the only way there’ll be justice.

Caleb’s shoulders sagged, and he dropped the boy and sat back on his haunches. The boy trembled as he reached for his rifle, but Caleb knocked it across the rocks with a paw.

What’s going on here, Irvine? he growled inside my head. Why didn’t you fight back? This is the guy who’s been stalking Willow. He was going to shoot you.

He wasn’t stalking Willow. He was stalking me, because I murdered his father—

The kid lunged for the gun. Luke leapt from behind Caleb, landing between the boy and the weapon. He knocked the boy down, grabbed his collar and dragged him further up the bank. Who’s this punk?

Let him go, Luke, I pleaded. He’s terrified.

Luke looked from me to Caleb, who gave a nod. Luke dropped the guy’s collar, and he crumpled against the rocks. He cupped his hands over his head and glanced up at me, his eyes wide and his face white with fear.

With his paw, Caleb shoved his rifle off the rocks. It landed in the river with a plop.

What are we doing here, Irvine? Caleb asked.

We’re letting him go.

Caleb nodded, and stepped back. Luke and I followed suit, backing toward the forest to give the boy the signal that he was free to go. The boy stared between us, and his face crumpled with relief as he realised what we were doing. He shot me one final hateful stare, and scampered into the forest, leaving me to face Caleb and Luke.

My two allies stared at me, their teeth bared, their eyes narrowed with concern.

Right, Caleb’s voice, stern and strong, fell into my head. I guess we know who he was after, now.