Chapter 12

She crouched in the rafters of the abandoned high school gym, one well-manicured hand wrapped around a cold metal beam, the other pressed flat against the dusty wood to keep her balance. The air smelled of old paint and trash. Moonlight leaked through broken skylights in long pale strips, painting the empty basketball court far below. Her werewolf healing had already healed her. The limp from the rooftop escape was a memory. She felt strong again, sharp, capable.

One more night. That was all. She would finish this. She would walk away with the credits and the title. The thought settled in her chest like a promise. She was not a quitter.

Her mind drifted back to the apartment building hours earlier. She had scaled the outer wall, sneakers scraping brick, and swung onto a balcony only to find a family of werebears seated around a low table, bowls of stew still steaming. Three pairs of dark eyes locked on her. A cub with her spoon halfway to her mouth stared open-eyed. She had frozen for half a second, then offered a quick apology as she cut straight through the dining room, knocking over a chair on her way to the door. Behind her the Booty Hunter appeared in the room, silent and inevitable. The family went rigid. One of the adults dropped a spoon. She did not stay to see more. She was already running out the apartment’s front door, heart slamming, looking for a stairwell to get to street level.

She remembered the package arriving at her office two weeks ago. The address of Booty Hunter Inc. was written on the plain brown package, her name printed in clean block letters. Inside lay the matte black band and a single folded sheet. The letter had been brief. When you are ready to start the game, put the bracelet on. The three days will commence. She had turned the band over in her hands for a long time, golden eyes fixed on the smooth surface, before locking it in her desk drawer.