The gun was already pointed at my chest before I even turned around. "Hands where I can see them," the man said, his voice steady despite the tremor I could detect in his heartbeat. "Slowly." I raised my hands, palms open, but didn't turn. Not yet. The coffee shop behind me hummed with oblivious humans—college students cramming for exams, a mother negotiating with her toddler, an elderly couple sharing a pastry. All of them completely unaware that in approximately thirty seconds, this entire block was going to become a war zone. "You going to shoot me in front of all these witnesses?" I asked, keeping my tone conversational. "That seems sloppy for someone with your reputation." A pause. "You know who I am." "Marcus Chen. Former Marine. Current bounty hunter with a ninety-seven percent capture rate." I finally turned, meeting his eyes. They were dark, calculating, and utterly human. "You've been tracking me for three weeks. Impressive, honestly. Most don't last three days." He was exactly what I'd expected from my research—mid-thirties, compact build, the kind of controlled stillness that came from years of training. What I hadn't expected was the wedding ring on his left hand, or the photo of two little girls tucked into the clear pocket of his wallet, visible even from here. A family man. Perfect. "The reward on your head just hit sixty million," Marcus said, the gun never wavering. "Do you have any idea what that kind of money could do for—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "For your daughters?" I finished softly. "College funds. Trust accounts. Generational wealth. I understand the appeal, Marcus. I really do." His eyes narrowed. "You don't get to say their names. You don't get to pretend you're anything other than what you are—a monster with a body count that spans three continents." "Alleged body count," I corrected. "And for the record, every single one of those deaths was justified." "Tell that to the Council." The Council. Of course. The supernatural governing body that had declared me enemy number one after I'd exposed their corruption, their trafficking networks, their systematic exploitation of lower-ranked werewolves. They'd painted me as a rogue Alpha who'd gone feral, a threat to the carefully maintained balance between human and supernatural worlds. The truth was so much more complicated. "Here's what's going to happen," Marcus continued, reaching for the suppressor attached to his belt. "You're going to walk out of this coffee shop calmly. We're going to get into my vehicle. And you're going to come quietly, because if you don't, I will put you down right here, and those people you're so worried about protecting will be caught in the crossfire." I tilted my head, studying him. "You've thought this through." "I've thought of nothing else for three weeks." "Then you know what I am. What I'm capable of." "I know you're fast. I know you're strong. I know you've taken down hunters with twice my experience." His finger moved to the trigger guard. "I also know that silver nitrate rounds to the chest will drop you long enough for me to get the restraints on. And I've got eight of them loaded." Smart. Prepared. Desperate. The worst combination. "How old are your daughters?" I asked. "That's none of your—" "Humor me. We both know how this ends, Marcus. At least let me understand why you're about to make the biggest mistake of your life." Something flickered across his face—pain, maybe, or fear. "Seven and nine. Emma just started piano lessons. Sophie wants to be a veterinarian." "Beautiful names. Beautiful dreams." I took a slow breath, letting my senses expand outward. Three more hunters positioned around the perimeter. Sniper on the roof across the street. Two in the alley behind the coffee shop. "You brought backup." "I'm not an idiot." "No, you're not. You're a father trying to secure his children's future. I respect that." I met his eyes again, and this time, I let him see the gold starting to bleed into my irises. "But I can't let you take me in." His heart rate spiked. Good. Fear was healthy. Fear kept humans alive. "Last chance," he said. "Come quietly, or—" I moved. Not toward him—that's what he expected, what he'd trained for. Instead, I dropped low and swept right, putting three civilians between us in the half-second it took his brain to process the movement. The gun tracked me, but his discipline held. He wouldn't risk the shot. "Everybody down!" Marcus shouted, and the coffee shop erupted into chaos. I was already at the back exit, but the two hunters from the alley were there, weapons raised. I could smell the silver nitrate from here, acrid and burning. One shot, and I'd be vulnerable. Two shots, and I'd be down. Three shots, and I'd be dead. "Target is mobile!" one of them shouted into his comm. "Repeat, target is mobile and heading—" I didn't let him finish. My hand shot out, crushing the comm device and his wrist in one motion. He screamed. His partner fired, but I was already moving, the round burying itself in the brick wall where my head had been a millisecond before. Behind me, I heard Marcus burst through the coffee shop's back door. "Stand down!" he commanded his team. "I've got the shot!" He didn't. Not with his partner in my grip, not with the narrow alley limiting his angle. But I gave him credit for the bluff. "Let him go," Marcus said, advancing slowly. "Let him go, and we can still do this clean." I looked at the hunter in my grasp—young, maybe twenty-five, absolutely terrified. His partner was scrambling for his dropped weapon. Marcus was ten feet away and closing. The sniper would have a clear line in approximately three seconds. "I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. Then I let the transformation begin. It wasn't like the movies—there was no dramatic music, no slow-motion sequence. One moment I was human-shaped, the next my bones were reforming, my muscles expanding, my senses sharpening to a razor's edge. The hunter in my grip stumbled backward, his fear-scent overwhelming. "Jesus Christ," someone whispered. Maybe Marcus. Maybe his partner. Maybe me. The Alpha power rolled off me in waves, a physical force that made the humans stagger. This was what they'd hunted. This was what was worth sixty million dollars. This was what would kill them all if I didn't control it.