The Lycan's Hunt

If I hadn’t paid for my phone myself and if I hadn’t known that nobody else would buy me a new one, then at this moment I would’ve smashed it against the first hard and heavy object I could find just to make it stop ringing. Out of all the things I hated, I absolutely despised getting a work call from my boss, Carl, in the middle of the night. I knew if I picked up that phone right now, I’d have to head out for situation control. It would be one of the usual. A rogue werewolf. A theft. Or maybe a missing person.

But I couldn’t do that. Not tonight, at least. My bones were killing me due to all the running I’d had to do today in order to catch the werewolf who had escaped from the jail. He had fought. He was even able to land a punch on me before I apprehended him. So no, not tonig-

My phone lit up with incoming notifications. I groaned as I got up and fumbled around for my phone. This had better be fucking good, I thought. I skimmed past the 2 missed calls from Carl and saw something that made my jaw drop.

CODE RED. REPORT TO THE SUMMIT IMMEDIATELY.

Such a simple text, yet it had so much meaning. A code red was a summon sent to employees in the very direst of situations. In the two years I had worked here I'd never gotten one. This usually indicated an emergency of a large scale. Usually involved the Lycans or the Royal family. There goes my night of peace, I thought ruefully.

I changed my clothes and strapped a revolver and a dagger onto me. Locking my apartment on the way out, I got into my black 2014 Toyota Camry and drove to the Summit. I had transferred to New Orleans two years prior from New York when my younger sister, Esme had gotten married to Derek and they had moved here due to his job. I had taken the first opportunity I had gotten for moving here in order to stay close to her.

The Summit was a supernatural organization whose main purposes were to keep the supernatural hidden from humans and to take care of our affairs discreetly. I had been working for the Summit for 5 years. We had a love-hate relationship.

After passing the security checks, I entered the tall, newly-made building of the Summit and headed straight to Carl’s office. There was already a small crowd outside. Passing everyone, I reached the person I knew would give me all the information I needed.

" Freya. What’s happening?”

My best friend of the last two years turned to me, gripped me into a tight hug, and launched into her verbal onslaught. "Finally, Anya. Where were you? Do you even know what happened? It’s bad, Anya. It’s bad. Do you think it’ll cost us our job? Will they fire us? Get a new team? What should-”

" Freya. Focus, please,” I said, slightly bemused.

“Yeah, sorry. A Lycan’s guard was killed in his house. They contacted The Summit about an hour ago to bring their best people to go to the crime scene and carry out the investigation,” she declared in a single breath. "Anya, it was a Royal Lycan.”

I just gawked at her for a whole minute. A Lycan was bad enough. But one of the Royals? Now I knew why she was worried about getting fired. I uttered a long string of profanities. Everyone knew about the Royals. It all started with two very influential and rich families who arranged a marriage between both their Lycan children. It was sort of a business arrangement but both of them later fell in love with each other. They had two kids named Isabella Hayes and Isaac Hayes both of who were Lycans. They both grew up handling the family business and both found their mates later on. Isabella had two sons named Zen and Silas while Isaac had a son, Rylan, and a daughter, Lorelei. And nobody was surprised when all of them again turned out to be Lycans.

Normally, Lycans were rare. Only one out of a thousand werewolves are said to be one. They are exceptionally stronger as compared to a werewolf and can control their transformations by themselves while we commoners transform rarely and mostly in moments of high emotional distress or danger. Lycans also have enhanced senses and their beauty has been said to bring down kingdoms.

So. Not. Fair.

They were later called the Royals because due to their booming trading and security businesses and their large influence in the fashion industry and properties in nearly all the countries in the world. An attack on an employee of the Royal would be considered a personal attack on them. This would have consequences.

Carl came out of his office at that moment and after giving us all a briefing on what we had to do he ushered us all out. There were about nine of us. The most skilled experts in the company and I was pleased to say that I was one of them. I drove to the mansion in my car.

When I got a good look at the mansion, I couldn’t contain my awe. It was a two-story manor with tall standing steel gates which opened automatically on our arrival. The place screamed of unimaginable wealth. We drove through a large circular driveway up to a modern residence. There was a line of about ten extremely expensive cars including a red Ferrari and a huge Mercedes and a black Range Rover. Woah. After climbing out of the car and putting on my gloves I walked up to my teammates. We were led to the crime scene by a couple of werewolves who worked there. They were all well-dressed and probably wealthier than any of us.

The murder had taken place in the garden. The most infuriating thing about the kill was that the victim was shot by two arrows, one through the heart and the other through the gut. This made this case even more complicated. If the victim had been shot by a gun, it would’ve been easier to trace back the bullet to the gun. I sniffed the air.

“Scent diminisher,” Freya said from beside me. Scent diminishers were chemicals that were produced a few years back which when sprayed onto something or someone, erased their scent so that werewolves couldn’t detect them through their enhanced senses. The crime rate had increased drastically after their production and it had been declared illegal but there were still underground suppliers who hadn’t gotten the memo and sold them discreetly. This wasn’t good.

They examined the body. The victim’s name was Marshall Monroe. He was 35 years old with blond hair and a strong body. He had a mate waiting for him at home. I clenched my fists. This was a calculated kill with a high risk. Someone was desperate to kill him. Or maybe angry. His body was taken away for an autopsy and fingerprints were taken. The scene was photographed and his blood was examined. All of us worked in silence and efficiently.

We were almost done when the hair on the back of my neck rose. Beside me, Freya let out a quiet gasp and all of our heads shifted in a single direction. The Royals had arrived. There were three of them. Lorelei, Silas and Zen. Zen Hayes. Everyone bowed their heads in response to the sheer power which was being emanated by them. Everyone except me. No. I was too entranced with the mighty being who had just stopped a few feet from me. I peered into his grey eyes. Suddenly, Freya nudged me with her elbow and broke through my spellbound state. I hadn’t bowed. And everyone was looking at me.

Fuck.