[BOOK ONE] When hunter-gatherer Adele Shepherd comes across an injured werewolf in the woods, it's up to her to take him in and save his life: in a remote town dedicated to killing the creatures, she's the only one left who wants to help no matter t...
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A HAZY DUSK was born out of the frosted afternoon, more than just the fresh chill of the frozen air settling in the ragged bones of the forest as the hunt wore on beyond the twilight. The sky was coal, as black as the charred wood that smoked in the embers of the bonfire. The wing had long since extinguished the flames, howling through the trees like the cry of a wolf in pain, a bitter bite in the breeze.
Night fell hard and fast. Snow fell heavy and soft. The stars had disappeared and the moon had hidden its face behind wispy clouds that limped across the midnight tracks; the threat of storm crawled above the scrawny branches that bent together as though conspiring to lock in the winter sting. A hunter's yell echoed through the forest: the crack of a bullet bounced over the building snow.
Adele's stomach dropped when the sound hit her like a whip. Her heart seized at the unmistakeable noise, waiting for the inevitable second shot, but none came. She perched on the edge of her seat, her pulse racing as the silence set in like a disease taking over her body. There was always a second shot. No hunter ever relied on a single bullet to take down a werewolf. Unless they had made a mistake. A false alarm. She took a deep breath, and she prayed.
The siren never wailed.
She waited up until she could hardly keep her eyes open anymore, until the lights faded and the silence deepened. The hunt was finally over, a long and tedious twelve hours after it had begun, and they hadn't got a kill; there was no proud announcement of success.
Adele's body sagged with relief and she got to her shaky feet, peering around the bedroom door to see Ainslie fast asleep across the whole bed before she slipped outside. The cold hit her like a freight train, a shock after the warmth of the fire that she had kept alive for hours on end, the flickering heat keeping her company as she had sat up to wait for the hunt to end. Her hand had rested on her shotgun the whole time, her other on the coffee mug that she had refilled a couple of times before she had run out. Caffeine coursed through her veins, but her exhaustion overrode the jittery buzz that only made her feel sick.
