Chapter 4

After entrusting the werewolf to his kind, Jia Hao headed to Anthony to report what had happened.

Unfortunately, he had no useful information about the attacker.

After a brief exchange, his superior conveyed his thanks, as well as those of the packmaster, for coming to the werewolf's aid, and told him to head home for the night.

Once home, he undressed and threw his bloodstained clothes into the washing machine, then headed to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stepped under the stream of hot water.

When the only scent remaining was that of the body wash, he closed his eyes and let the water run down through his hair, over his face, and then along his body.

A long sigh escaped his lips as the tension slowly drained from his muscles.

Stepping out of the shower, he dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. He wiped the fogged-up mirror and looked at his reflection.

The image of the werewolf's hazel eyes—so much like his own—floated back to him. He still saw the fear in them, the wariness, then the acceptance... and finally the surrender. Something in that gaze had stayed with him.

That memory brought back another: the recent mission to rescue the vampires kidnapped by Nereus.

He could still recall the stench of fear that had struck him the moment he stepped into that warehouse, mingling with the smell of blood, gunpowder, and finally the fire that devoured everything.

On that occasion, vampires and werewolves had fought side by side, and from that day on, he had felt a deep respect for their leader and for the warriors who had stood beside him.

After all, they hadn't seemed so different from them.

In Oldgrove, the two communities had coexisted peacefully for some time. He didn't know if things had always been that way, but Anthony and Christopher had never clashed. In recent times, they had even drawn closer, working to protect both races.

Not everyone had welcomed that political stance. The old noble families, in particular, had voiced their displeasure. But Anthony had never wavered.

Jia Hao was proud to be part of that change—his parents, a little less so.

He rubbed his hair dry and went to his room to put on a grey tracksuit. As dawn approached, he heard the shutters lower, sealing out the sunlight. He caught one last glimpse of the night sky before it disappeared.

Finally, he made himself a sandwich and brought it to the living room.

As he bit into his late-night meal, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. Scrolling through the titles, he noticed Underworld was playing.

He smiled at the way humans imagined vampires and werewolves, hit play, and stretched out on the sofa, making himself comfortable.