The brief moment of connection faded. At least they’d been happening more often of late.

Long strides brought them from the vault protecting the tank. It clanged shut behind and hissed as it sealed. No chances would be taken, for death had already come much too close to the one cherished above all.

The many barriers, installed to protect, opened and shut behind with but a thought. No key existed for these portals by design. Only those accompanied and with permission could enter. The servants used to perform maintenance didn’t retain any memories of their chores. None could know, not until the time was ripe.

Rising to a level above brought them to the preparation area where they collected the precious and necessary blood. Or would have collected, if not for the empty cages. The last of the subjects had been drained. Soon, though, new donors would fill those spots. They’d sacrifice the ripest among them to the tank, while those who lacked the right kind of richness to their blood would be put to other use.

Past the blood collection chamber, they entered the transformation wing, also sitting empty, the last of the latent Lycans either transformed or dead. The process to change them had proven tricky. The torture protocol hadn’t been difficult to conduct. Even better, the enjoyment found in making the subjects scream and plead for a mercy that wouldn’t be forthcoming. It was the other element of the transformation recipe that had been more elusive. The transformation required pain, that of the body and soul, as well as a true mating to activate a latent’s dormant wolf. Many dormants failed to make the transition, not because they didn’t scream in agony but more because the true mates of the latents proved difficult to find.

Hence why, unlike Morpheus, they expanded their scope. While dormants would still be acquired, it was time for the Lycans to also do their part. Already some thralls, their minds initially captured by Morpheus and Roderick, remained nestled amongst some of the packs. Working from within, their subtle treachery moving the plan forward.

Those that didn’t feed the tank would grow the army that would soon be unleashed upon the world, starting a war neither Lycan nor humanity suspected—or could stop.

The time for living in the shadows had passed, even as many on the vampire council refused to accept this new truth. Fools. It would seem in the centuries they’d spent buried in their dark prison they’d learned nothing. The explosion of social media and cameras capturing every event of people’s lives made keeping the secret of vampires and Lycans next to impossible, so might as well force the revelation and get it over and done with.

If all went according to plan, though, there would be no repeat of the era where pitchfork and torch-wielding peons hunted nonhumans almost to extinction. The mundane that multiplied like roaches might have access to weaponry and greater numbers, but it would take only a few key players in government to hamstring any attempt at defense.

A scuffing approach had them whirling. Shadows gathered as a cloak to cover them head to toe.

The young man who entered sniffed and looked around before calling out. “Master?”

The shadows were released to reveal their presence. “What do you want?”

The groveling dog, barely more than a pup, threw themselves prostrate at their feet and, with face pressed to the floor, reported, “The hunters have reached the town of Moon Dew.”

As planned but obviously something had gone amiss. “What is the issue?”

“One of them is questioning your orders.”

That raised a brow. It would seem one of the conscripted Lycans pushed against the command planted in their mind. “And what do we do with a disobedient dog?”

The boy shuddered before whispering, “They will be handled.”

A crouch brought them close to the quivering pup. “Do you have an issue with my order?”

“No, Master.”

“Good. Now, run along and ensure my command is carried out. I expect to see the cages full by morning.”

“Yes, Master.” The young rogue scampered off. Obedient and eager to please. The young were always so much easier to turn. Mature men, often set in their stubborn ways, fought hardest against the vampire control placed upon them. Their ability to resist, though, made them still necessary. Children, while much more malleable, lacked the strength and skill of their elders. Not to mention, the youngest and most trainable were still needed by the beloved.

Such a shame they’d been harder to acquire of late, as the dog packs rallied and closed ranks. While they didn’t understand the true nature of their foe, they grasped the threat, unlike the dormants. That ostracized and banished group had no warning. No pack to protect them. Even better, some of latents had chosen to gather into their own communities, such as the one in Moon Dew. How kind of them to cluster in one place for the culling that was about to come.

It wouldn’t be long before humans and Lycans alike began to realize something was amiss, but by then, it would be too late. Once darkness consumed the world, there would be only two choices left.

Serve, or die.

Chapter 1

The small town of Moon Dew slept. The houses and few businesses displayed dark windows with the only illumination coming from glowing streetlamps. The dogs—the kind people owned, and not the version that shifted on full moons—didn’t bark. The roads loomed empty without a single set of headlights or purr of a motor. All appeared calm.

Too calm. Sasha didn’t trust it, and with reason. After all, she’d followed a rogue Lycan here. A lone and rabid wolf that, left unchecked, could end up controlled by their enemy.

They’d found the fucker thanks to old-fashioned tracking, a little bit of magic, and the small amount of Roderick’s ashes she’d ingested after Thaddeus tasked her with rounding up the stray Lycans who’d been influenced by Roderick.

For the unknowing, Roderick used to be a monstrous blend of werewolf and vampire, an impossibility somehow brought into being by the late vampire queen—a queen later murdered by her own creation. But Roderick didn’t stop there. As an alpha, he had the power to subvert and control Lycans, turning them into murderers. Despite Roderick’s eventual demise, those thralls continued to cause trouble.

With Roderick dead, his thralls were leaderless and dangerous. She knew immediately that her target was Lycan, due to his scent, and previously touched by Roderick, due to the red spark in his eyes when their gazes met and the curl of his lip.

Sasha intended to take him into custody and question whether there were more in the area. However, a gaggle of humans had passed between her and the dog, giving him a chance to jump in a car and speed off—but not before she’d memorized the license plate.

A search through databases not accessible by the public revealed the car to be a rental, paid for in cash, with the only paperwork useless, as they’d used a fake driver’s license. A good thing she knew a hacker. Her friend and fellow flock member, Pierrot, managed to forge a link between the vehicle’s onboard navigation and an app he’d installed on her phone. Hence how they followed the car with the mind-poisoned rogue.

Of course, following would have been easier if an accident hadn’t occurred literally right in front of them, forcing them to sit in traffic and allowing the rogue to acquire an annoying lead. How she wished she’d stuck with her Mustang, but Pierrot had insisted on switching out to one of the flock’s standard SUVs for safety and space in case they took rogues in for questioning. In truth, Pierrot hated how fast she drove in the convertible, but at least that speed would have helped them make up for time. As it was, the rogue’s vehicle had been stopped in Moon Dew for more than an hour by the time they caught up.

The other flock members assigned by Thaddeus had pulled up mere moments before she did. She parked behind their SUV on the outskirts of town, and Tim, Anabel, and Jorge exited to greet her and Pierrot then hold a brief discussion.

“Do you think this is where Roderick’s remaining thralls are hiding out?” Tim asked. The freckled vampire peered around as if he could spot their lair.

“Doubtful,” Sasha replied.

“The car is not parked outside a house or building,” Pierrot added. The rogue had left it on the shoulder of the road by a gas station closed for the night.

“Maybe he’s inside the garage,” she murmured, stalking over for a sniff. The stench of gasoline overpowered, and she caught nothing.

“Something’s wrong,” Anabel murmured, sidling close.

Sasha glanced around. “Agreed.” It took her a moment to figure out what bothered. “It’s too quiet.”

Jorge joined them, hands shoved in his pockets. “Probably because it’s like one in the morning.”

True, but she couldn’t shake the sense of something amiss. “Spread out,” Sasha ordered.

Pierrot and Tim headed off to the left, while Anabel and Jorge flitted right. As for Sasha, she strode straight up the middle of the road, head constantly swiveling, seeking any sign of movement, following the fresh scent of Lycans on foot.

Four, if her nose wasn’t wrong.

As she walked, the uncanny silence pressed down. Yes, it was late, and people would be abed, but her skin prickled with suspicion.

The trail she followed diverged from the road and led her to the front door of a bungalow with light blue siding and a tidy front yard. It didn’t look like a rogue lair and yet, at the same time, would be the perfect cover.

She lifted her hand and waited while her companions quietly joined her. She held up four fingers and inclined her head toward the house. They got the hint. Anabel and Jorge infiltrated the backyard, covering the rear, while Pierrot and Tim split up to watch the east and west sides of the house in case the rogues chose to escape via a window.

As for Sasha, she would use the front door. She expected to have to force her way inside, only a turn of the knob showed it unlocked. The moment it opened a scent wafted out. A familiar one.

Death.

She quickly entered—because, unlike certain movies and books, she didn’t need an invitation—and checked through the home before she emerged and uttered a piercing whistle that drew her companions.

“What happened to sneaking up on the rogues?” Jorge questioned as he came into sight.

“They’re long gone.” Her grim reply.

“How can you be sure? Their car is still here,” Anabel pointed out.

“They either had a second vehicle or stole one, because the bodies inside have been dead at least an hour.” The congealed blood told the time. “Looks like the adult female, human, was gutted by a knife. The infant, a human male, was torn apart by something with claws.”

“Since when do the rogues slaughter humans?” Anabel questioned.

“I don’t know, but it appears as if they didn’t kill them all, going by the family photos and personal effects that suggest the house also had a male occupant and a second child who are missing.”

“Perhaps they weren’t home,” Pierrot murmured.

“Do you really believe that?” Sasha scoffed. More likely they were taken to feed Morpheus, a high-ranking vampire who had long been a thorn in the side of her boss, Thaddeus.

“I wonder if they hit other homes.” Tim glanced at the other dark abodes.

Without a word, they split up and began entering them, finding the same scenario played out over and over. Slaughtered families, young and old, all human but for one: they discovered a single Lycan male butchered outside one home. An innocent or one of the rogues? If going by smell alone, then Sasha leaned toward the latter, but it didn’t seem like he was killed by one of the residents in self-defense. There was nothing to suggest a scuffle. He’d clearly been ambushed. So why, then, did they kill one of their own? Could it be he’d balked at the slaughter?

Most of the houses they’d searched showed indications some folks had been taken, without rhyme or reason. Young, old, male and female. What set them apart? Thaddeus probably could have answered, but the boss tended to keep things close until he felt it necessary to divulge

Another interesting fact? The rogue she’d been tracking had been joined by others. By Sasha’s reckoning of the various scents, a dozen converged on the small town, and she had to wonder why this particular place.

“Seems to me the rogues who did this are gone,” Pierrot remarked as the flock converged in the middle of the street.

“And left behind the rental we followed, meaning we have nothing to track,” Tim added.

What no one said, but all understood? The mission was a total bust.

Or so Sasha thought until a hint of sound distracted. She froze in place and closed her eyes to concentrate, sifting scents, analyzing sounds. A whisper of movement sent her running, sprinting across a yard, vaulting a bush. The other vamps joined her, if more slowly. While Sasha’s mental powers of persuasion might not be the strongest, she didn’t lack for strength and agility.

She quickly outpaced her brethren and caught sight of four fleeing figures, their legs pumping almost as fast as hers, the scent wafting in their wake most definitely canine.

Had the rogues left some of their number behind?

The boss would be pleased if she could capture them alive for questioning. She put on a burst of speed and closed the gap between her and the fleeing group. They headed for a structure on the edge of the town, the cross jutting from the roof indicating a church.

The four dogs barreled through the thick wooden doors and slammed them shut. Sasha’s pace slowed as she heard the thumps and bumps of furniture being moved as they barricaded the entrance.

As if that would stop her.

She stood in front of the door, hands planted on her hips waiting for her brethren to reach her.

“I take it they went inside,” Jorge huffed. The thicker-set vampire wasn’t used to having to chase. While most of their kind enjoyed greater stamina and speed, overindulgence and a lack of exercise made a difference.

“Yeah, they’re in there,” Sasha drawled. The rogues probably mistakenly believed themselves safe. After all, some folks trusted that a church was some kind of holy sanctuary that none would dare attack. Wrong.

Even if those cowering had no clue what Sasha was, it should be noted that no religion on earth could stop a vampire in its tracks. As a matter of fact, only a few things could actually kill a vampire. Direct and prolonged sunlight. The removal of the heart—because a stake injury could be healed, especially with the more seasoned vampires. Beheading was also popular, as few things could survive without a noggin, but again, that depended on the age and what was done to the head and body afterwards. Vampires weren’t easy to kill. A good thing, since pretty much everyone and everything hated them. Not that she cared how her dinners felt.

Sasha waved a hand. “Spread out and cover all the entrances. Windows, too, just in case. I’ll see if I can convince them to come out.” Doubtful, because without direct eye contact or touch, she’d have difficulty mesmerizing. However, chatting up her prey would give her team a chance to get in position before they slammed their way in.

Once her companions moved off, Sasha sauntered to the door with a nonchalance her once-human self would have envied. She’d been a street rat before Thaddeus found her. Living off the discards of others. Stealing what she needed to survive. A pathetic young girl who’d run away from the abuse at home, only to find out the world could be just as cruel. But she stopped being a victim when Thaddeus turned her into a vampire.

With hands planted on her hips, Sasha called out to those cowering inside the church. “I know you’re in there.”

No reply.

“Are you going to open the door and cooperate like good little dogs, or am I going to have to drag your asses out?”

“Fuck off.”

Not an unexpected response.

“You know,” she commented casually, “in the story, it’s supposed to be the wolf outside the building, threatening to huff and puff if the little pigs don’t come out.”

“I prefer the one where the wolf eats the annoying girl,” replied the same deep voice.

“You’d have to open the door to even try,” Sasha’s riposte.

“We’re not fucking stupid. We saw what you did to the people in town.”

Her brow arched. They thought Sasha and her companions responsible? Nice try. She wouldn’t fall for their deflection tactic; however, for shits and giggles, she would play along. “That wasn’t me or my friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.” She found it highly improbable they weren’t involved. Not surprising? That they claimed innocence. “We came across this town tracking some rogues but arrived a touch too late. Or not. After all, it appears you were left behind.”

“We didn’t kill no one,” a reedy voice exclaimed, leading to grumbling from the others inside. “I will not shut up,” huffed the same guy. “We didn’t do nuthin’.”

“If you’re so innocent, then why hide?” Sasha countered.

“Because we’re not going to end up as some newspaper headline,” snarled the guy with the deep timber.

“You can’t hide in there forever.”

“Just long enough for the authorities to arrive,” exclaimed the high-pitched one, which led to more hushed arguing as his friends tried to shut him up.

Had they truly called for help? If yes, then Sasha’s team had little time before they needed to vacate.

“You know you sound rather coherent for murdering psychopaths,” she remarked, eyeing the door and its hinges, seeking out a weak spot. “Thralls are usually less interested in meaningful conversation and more intent on killing.”

“We’re not murderers,” growled Mr. Deep.

“As if you’d admit to it. Tell me, did you enjoy killing the weak in this town? Slaughtering innocent babes and their parents? Such tough doggies.”

“We didn’t kill anyone!” retorted the man.

“Says the wolf.” Her chuckled reply. “Or are you going to tell me you’ve never killed?”

“Only wild animals. Can you say the same?”

“Nope.” She popped the P. “And I’ll be killing again before the night is over. The question is, which of you will die first?” No point in letting them know she planned to capture them. Fear could work wonders when other methods of persuasion failed.

“If you didn’t murder the folks in town, then who did?” A new voice entered the chat.

“Your fellow rogues. Duh.” She rolled her eyes.

“For the last time, we’re not in league with whoever did this,” snapped the deepest voice. “Not to mention, why would we kill family?”

Hold on. Did these four wolves have ties to this town? Could it be these males had somehow escaped the rogues that swept through? Were they some of the ones who were missing from the houses?

“If they’re your family, then why didn’t you stop the murders?” she asked.

“We arrived too late,” a soft, disgruntled reply.

“Arrived from where? It’s an odd time to be out and about.” Unless you were nocturnally inclined, like a vampire.

“We got a call from—”

Someone cut off the one spilling. “Shut the fuck up, Omar.”

“Actually, let him speak,” she interjected. “Your reply might very well decide your fate.”

“You already said you planned to kill us,” Mr. Deep reminded.

“That was when I assumed you were some of the murderers. If you’re innocent—”

“We are! As if I’d kill my aunt,” exclaimed one of them, the last part of the statement cracking.

“As I was saying, if you’re innocent, then you have nothing to fear from me. But I will require you come with me and answer some questions.” The more they spoke, the less they seemed like mindless thralls. Perhaps they were telling the truth.

“The answer is still fuck off.”

“I get better results when I fuck on. Preferably on top.” She liked to control the ride. “Now, be nice doggies and open the door.”

“Not happening.” A low rumbled denial.

“You’ve got until the count of three. One.”

Sudden yells from inside indicated her brethren had breached the church.

She crossed her arms and waited on the other side of the door, as there were thumps and yells but no blood-curdling death cries. Good. She needed them for questioning.

In short order, the tussling ceased and the door swung open. Sasha took in the sight of the sulking doggies, four of them in total, their clothing, unstained by blood, adding credence to their claim that they weren’t part of the murders.

Hair mussed. Lips swelling from blows. Eyes glaring.

Handsome lot. Late twenties to early thirties. Thick heads of hair, fit bodies. Even the wimpiest of them would probably taste delicious.

“Don’t you even think of tasting me,” hissed the one with the deep voice, a burly fellow with a glare that gave her tingles.

Oops, she’d said the last part aloud. Her lips curved. “I promise you’d enjoy it.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That can also be arranged. For the moment, though, you will come with us.”

“As if we have a choice,” a bitter reply from the skinniest of the group.

“You’re right. You don’t have a choice, and I suggest you behave during transport, or I, and my friends, might decide one of you is expendable as a snack.”

Mr. Deep’s jaw stiffened. “You’re not Lycan.”

“No shit, Puppy Chow.” Sasha smirked. “Can you take a guess as to what I really am?” While some Lycans knew of vampires, the revelation was recent and not common knowledge.

“You smell…” Mr. Deep pursed his lips as his nostrils flared. “Not human.”

“Correct.” She nodded toward her fellows. “Pierrot, why don’t you smile for the wolf?”

Her companion flashed his pointed fangs, and Omar recoiled at the sight of them, unlike his buds, who only gaped in shock.

Mr. Deep sounded incredulous as he said, “You’re vampires?”

To which Sasha replied, “Someone give the smart puppy a bone.”