Werewolf – Chapter Fourteen


Chapter Fourteen

Monday: May 8, 2028

“I cannot believe you’re actually going back to L.A.,” Jensen said, arms crossed over his chest.

“If I’m right, the killer will be killing again either tonight or tomorrow. Whether or not Mister Pitman hates my guts, I still have a duty to do my job,” Bo said. Jensen grunted his response. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. You and I both know it’s beyond stupid,” Bo said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. His gaze fell to his lap as he twisted his wedding ring around his finger. “He’ll either kill me on sight or send me right back home. I’m hoping for the second option. But, umm… if there isn’t a crime scene, I’ll just come back home.”

“ ‘Kay.”

“I can’t handle you hating me, too, Jens,” Bo whispered.

“I don’t hate you, Eli,” Jensen said as he sat down beside the blonde. “I’m pissed at Jamal, not you.” He hooked an arm around Bo’s shoulders, closing his eyes as Bo rested his head on his chest. “I love you. I just hate that he’s getting away with hurting you again.”

Bo nodded. “I don’t know what to do, Jens.”

“You… go to L.A. and show him how strong you are. You let him know that him being a bastard doesn’t affect you at all,” Jensen said.

“That’d be a lie.”

“You just gotta pretend, baby.”


“For your sake, though? I hope there isn’t a crime scene tomorrow.”

“Me, too,” Bo whispered.


Dominic stood at the sink, washing the rib spreaders in his hands. Although he had washed them before tearing into Archibald Knight, he felt another cleaning only made sense. He didn’t want to risk any transfer of DNA. He knew Bo Austen was working his case. He’d seen that much on the news.

If he slipped up, he’d be caught without any trouble at all, thanks to the annoying little blonde. Dominic wasn’t planning on letting that happen anytime soon.

He had spent most of the day walking around L.A., brushing up against people, letting people walk into him. He’d done whatever he could to find someone that fit his needs, someone that was interesting.

He’d found interest in a young woman named Jade Gill.

She was in her late twenties and working three jobs to pay off her college loans. That, of course, wasn’t what made her more interesting than the married people he’d bumped into earlier that day, or the people that had spent the last several years in the same relationship.

No, she was interesting because she was dating all three of her bosses at the same time. As far as Dominic could tell, not a single one of them knew about the other two.

It was something he considered a giant ball of interesting, disgusting, and impressive.

Jade Gill was the woman he planned on tearing into in the morning, the woman he planned on stealing a heart from before sinking his teeth into it.

The fact that she looked a little like his therapist had been entirely coincidental. Or, at least, that’s what Dominic kept telling himself as he scrubbed away at the rib spreaders.

Yes, Tamara’s change of pace in therapy had fueled his rage, but it didn’t mean he wanted to kill her. No, he just wanted to toy with her mind. He wanted her to realize that the jackrabbits were people.

He wanted her to know that he held her responsible for the deaths, that he never would’ve laid his hands on a person if she’d just continued to do her damn job.

And yet, here he was, washing rib spreaders, a scalpel, and a bone saw in preparation for another kill, another kill that never would have happened if she had been better at the one thing she had a college degree for, the one thing she had training for.

Dominic still toyed with the idea of killing Tamara, too. Not anytime soon, of course, but eventually. He figured that could be… fun.


Bo sat down on the edge of the bed, closing his eyes as Acamas jumped up beside him. She purred, rubbing up against his side. When he didn’t pet her, she wormed her way beneath his arm and onto his lap instead.

One corner of Bo’s mouth lifted as he opened his eyes. Acamas stared up at him with her one eye, a low purr vibrating in her throat. Bo scratched the top of her head before dropping to his back on the bed. Acamas walked up his abdomen and kneaded at his chest before curling up into a ball on his chest. Bo laid a hand on her side, gently dragging his fingers through her fur every now and then.

The house was quiet. He hated that. He figured he’d need to turn on a television or some music if he had any hope of pretending that Los Angeles wasn’t simply a place that served as a reminder to nearly everything that had ever been terrible in his life.

“One crime scene, and then we get to go back home,” Bo said. “And if there isn’t a crime scene, we get to go home on Wednesday morning. How’s that sound?” he asked. Acamas meowed, pawing at Bo’s shirt. “Yeah… I want to go home, too.”

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