Page 10 of The Red Moon

I glance over at the behemoth, knowing to choose my words carefully. Something about the alpha on the other end of this table tells me he won’t tolerate lying, and unfortunately for me, my heart is a dead giveaway. But I don’t need to lie to answer this question. I’ve had nothing but time down in the basement to consider it.

“No,” I state plainly. “No, I am not.”

They both tilt their heads, and I know exactly what they’re doing. Listening.

Vlad’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “Well, then.” He nods to his son, and despite Viktor snarling at me, he walks around the table toward the double doors. I don’t turn my head to watch him leave. No, I won’t give Viktor the satisfaction.

“Come, Sergei,” he says and rips open the door. “You can clean my fucking boots.”

This is when it takes everything within me not to turn around. To show compassion for the small wolf I helped up the steps. If anything … it might put a bigger target on his back. So I continue to stare forward, Vlad’s dim eyes meeting mine.

He removes the mask and another hiss of air flees it. “You know what we are?”

I nod and gnaw on my bottom lip.

“Say it,” he chokes out, his gravelly voice straining.

My body seizes, but I manage to choke out a single word. “Werewolves.”

“And Nikolai told you about us?”

I shake my head, forgetting to keep my sudden movements to myself. He doesn’t react though, only hunches over the table further. Any time Nikolai mentioned his father, he never once alluded to the fact he was this old. This … weak. He only called him a true monster. So why does everyone, even Sergei, fear the fragile wolf with trembling hands on the other end of this table?

“Nikolai didn’t tell me about your kind. I … stumbled into his loft during the full moon.”

Vlad chuckles, a mixture of laughter and wheezing breaths. The sound, while unintimidating, sends an unnatural chill down my spine. Now all of the hairs on my neck and arms stand, and my heart rate spikes to a new, terrifying level. “History repeats itself. Did he tell you about his mother?”

I shake my head again.

“Alina was a curious one as well.” A breath in and another hiss. “Didn’t take long for her to figure out what I was, and like you, she did not fear the animal lurking inside our kind either. She was useful to me in the beginning, of course. Gifted me two sons. But I started to notice something.” He breathes in again and holds the mask to the side. “How her humanity was poisoning my heir. I couldn’t let it continue.”

“Oh, god …”

A sinister smirk crawls from one side of his wrinkled mouth to the other, and his eyes, which were two dull drops of blood, start to glow bright and murderous. “Don’t worry. You won’t live long enough to give him offspring.” A deep hiss and Vlad Vostik drags his long nails across the oak table. “Viktor will make certain of that.”

EIGHT

NIK

“Get your meaty palms off that!” Alexey shouts at Dimitri grabbing one of the grenades from the weapons rack. “You set that off, your friend will be dead, and we cough up silver for the next three weeks.”

Dimitri places the grenade back carefully and shakes his large head. All I can do is watch a few feet from the threshold. Even standing this close has nausea twisting my stomach. Our stomach, my wolf says. Take another step back. I do and a small amount of relief sets in. Assault rifles, shotguns, and pistols take up one section, while hand-to-hand weapons rest in a lethal row. Axes glint with the familiar sting of silver, and next to them, daggers and throwing knives. Alexey continues rustling through the crates at the back of the room, searching for something.

“Where are the crossbows?” Dimitri asks, glancing at everything individually.

“Nyet,” Alexey says and spits in response.

Dimitri looks at me first, and then Alexey’s small back. “Nyet? What do you mean, nyet?”

“Bow only stop a few werewolves if aim good. Ah! Here it is,” he says and slides a large crate toward Dimitri’s feet. “Go ahead, big man. Open it.”

Dimitri does with noticeable annoyance and pulls out one of the small boxes inside. Metal rubs together, creating a slight hum as he lifts open the top. Then, his eyes widen. In his palm is a bullet, not a standard 5.56 round, but one dipped in solid silver. Dimitri holds it out to display it, and I flinch another step back.

“These stop all werewolves, even crazy brother.” Alexey stands tall, seemingly proud of his stockpile that has me on the verge of puking.

“Where did you get this stuff, Alexey?” I manage.

One side of his face lifts in a smirk. “Guns, liberated from back of transport vehicle on the way to Moscow. Ammunition? Deal I made with comrade who makes bullets as hobby. Doesn’t ask questions.”