It didn’t last though. When his beast leaped onto his terrified quarry, his massive jaws quickly snapped closed around its neck and ending its life, the darkness ebbed back inside. Even as he voraciously devoured his kill, he felt his soul die a little more. Soon there would be nothing left of the man he once was and that horrified him more than anything he’d done for the Council.
When that last vestige of his humanity disappeared, Zohar knew he would have no choice but to ask his only friend to do the unthinkable: end his life. There would be no other choice. Zohar was one of the most formidable Shifters in existence, and he could not be allowed to roam free unchecked with no morality left inside. The consequences would be devastating, and go against everything he’d fought against for decades.
No. When that moment arrived so would his last day. There was no other way.
That decision was for another day, for now all he could focus on was consuming the deer and then returning to the Council Headquarters to carry out his mission. At least then his debt to Shade Shawcross would be paid in full.
It didn’t take him long, the animal disappearing quickly as he scarfed it down, leaving almost nothing behind before returning home. After a quick shower, he dressed in his usual combat gear, checking himself in the mirror and seeing what others saw . . . a scary son-of-a-bitch that nobody messed with.
Zohar ran a hand through his hair, securing it with a leather thong, staring into his eyes to try and see if he could glimpse the blackness he knew was there. All he saw was cold and emotionless eyes gazing back, hard as steel, but nothing to show the menace he knew was hidden there.
Shaking his head, he let out a long sigh. “No time for this shit,” he mumbled to himself, turning quickly to stride away from his reflection, and his home. He had work to do and a favor to repay, then he would maybe spend some time figuring out who’d cast a spell on him.
Sherman Kelly was a powerful Witch who the Council used, not only that, he was someone who was quite rare in Zohar’s eyes. He was a man that could be trusted and that’s just what he needed. If he decided to ask for help.
The only problem with asking Sherman for assistance was that Zohar would then be indebted to the man, and that wasn’t a situation he relished. Slamming the door of his Jeep he started the engine, his wheels spinning as he drove away. On his way to pay a debt from five years ago, so what would Sherman ask in return for his help with this goddamn hunger that ate at Zohar’s guts?
That was the question. One that Zohar needed the answer to before he’d contemplate approaching the Witch to ask for his assistance. Sherman’s price may well prove too high and Zohar would be right back where he started: hiding his illness and hunting every chance he got.
For now, he’d have to push it aside and concentrate on the task at hand. There were Wolves in peril that needed his help. More importantly, there were Shifters who required his brand of justice and he would not fail those that needed him. No matter what the cost was to him, he would not forsake those in need.
His foot heavy on the pedal, his speed increasing to zoom along the backroads he knew so well. Every pothole, every boulder, and every turn, Zohar propelled his vehicle along at a breakneck pace. When the trees thinned out, and the dirt tracks changed to tarmac, farms and houses now dotting the landscape, he still didn’t slow down. Not until he saw the turn-off for the Headquarters, and only then did he reduce his speed enough to make the turn.
Zohar’s Jeep flew along the road toward the walled enclosure that held the buildings of the Wolf Council, as well as the jail. Not that it was like any normal prison, only the worst cases being incarcerated, and those usually in their Wolf forms. It was hell on earth.
Every single time Zohar passed the damn building his skin crawled, his heart thudding in his chest, and his blood pounded in his ears. The knowledge that he’d more than likely end up there always in the back of his mind. There was only so much one man could take before being overcome with . . . hell, he wasn’t even sure what the fuck it was inside him.
All he knew was it consumed more of him with every mission and soon there’d be nothing of him left.
“Shut the fuck up,” he cursed to himself as he slowed at the gates, four guards on duty, with one walking toward him.
“Evening, Zohar,” the Shifter saluted stiffly before waving him on.
Zohar didn’t bother responding, the guard didn’t expect him to. Zohar never “chatted” and didn’t waste time on idle words. He especially wasn’t going to attempt to interact with anyone right now, not with the mood he was in. He was reporting for duty, he’d do his job, he’d go home . . . and hunt.
As he drove through the steel gates, he saw his men already gathered off to the right, Danko inspecting the two lines of Elite Guards with great detail. Zohar turned left, pulling into the first available space and parked. He took a steadying breath before getting out, looking up to the imposing building almost all windows lit up, even at this time of night. It still looked dark and brooding to him. Maybe because he knew what went on behind those walls.
Most of what the Council did was for the
