But Sammy had been so desperate for help—any kind of help—he hadn’t cared where it came from. Honestly, he still didn’t, but he wondered if maybe he should have asked more questions.
He figured he probably could have provided a few more details in the messages he’d left too. Divulging the details over the phone felt risky, but he now realized how vague his pleas had likely sounded to the wolf.
He could have been asking for anything, from a substantial loan to a hired hitman.
In reality, he just needed to find one greedy, devious hybrid before she ruined his life.
Again.
Given Dominic’s reputation, he had naively assumed this would be a pay-to-play transaction. He’d leave a message, someone would call him back, and they’d negotiate a price. It hadn’t occurred to him that he might actually have to plead his case.
But how did he begin to explain his mother to a person who had never met her? No one in their right mind would believe him.
Beyond his name and vague implications, however, Sammy didn’t know much about Dominic Rivas. He gathered that the guy might be considered morally ambiguous at best, and his pack almost certainly operated outside the law.
But every time he tried to find out more, he was met with strange looks and muttered curses.
Allegations ranged from cryptic to downright ominous. People whispered about deals gone sideways and lingering debts that had a way of coming due when least expected.
Bear, the town barber, claimed the werewolf could track down anyone—even those who managed to slip between realms. That last bit sounded a little too fantastical to be believable, but then again, he’d seen some weird shit since moving to Hunters Hollow.
“It’s not worth it,” Duncan, the grouchy owner of the diner, had told him.
“I don’t know anything about him, and I don’t want to,” Vita had snapped as she’d bagged his produce at the grocer. With a haughty sniff and a trembling lip, the fae had added, “You couldn’t pay me to go near him or his pack of devil dogs.”
He knew he should take the warnings seriously, but again and again, Sammy found himself unmoved. When he weighed the risks of Dominic’s infamy against his mother’s proven malice, the scales always tipped in favor of action.
No matter how shady the wolf’s past—and possibly present—no matter the rumors that clung to his name like fog to the bayou, Sammy needed someone who could produce results.
If Dominic could help him, nothing else mattered. Not the debts, not the risks, not the possibility that the price might turn out steeper than he could pay.
The warnings were nothing more than noise, background static, a possible mistakeversus a very real and experienced threat.
He did wish he knewwhythe townspeople considered Dominic so dangerous, though. Everyone told him to keep his distance, but no one ever gave him a reason. Not one that satisfied him anyway. That curiosity kept him asking questions long after he had made his decision.
And a potential new source of information had just walked through the door.
Straightening, he relaxed his shoulders and hitched on a bright smile as a couple of his regulars approached the counter.
“Hey, Dylan.” He glanced past the young vampire and dipped his head again in greeting. “Rogue.”
Most fledglings struggled through the first year of their transition. Some never fully acclimated at all.
Dylan had thrived.
A lot of that came down to character and resilience, but having a solid support system had been instrumental in the beginning. Being mated to a centuries-old vampire with a low tolerance for bullshit probably didn’t hurt either.
Recently, Dylan had started his training to become a Ministry guard—similar to a patrol officer in the human world—and by all accounts, he had a natural affinity for the work.
Sammy wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t known Dylan that long, but it had been clear from their first meeting that the guy valuedfairness and justice, and he possessed a strong desire to help people. Sometimes, to his own detriment.
“How’s training going?” he asked.
“Really good.” His dark eyes sparkled with excitement as he gave him a wide smile, complete with an impressive set of pointed canines. “I still have a lot to learn, but Killian says I’ll be ready for supervised patrols in a few weeks.”
Killian was another Ministry guard and a trainer at the academy. A werewolf, if he remembered correctly. Sammy had never met him, but Dylan spoke of him often and with a great deal of respect.
He had no reference for what the training involved, how long it should last, or when new recruits usually started patrols. Instead, he simply tried to match Dylan’s enthusiasm.