Despite reassurances, Samson Phoenix couldn't shake the concern that he had done something wrong as Hatchet escorted him into the dining room where Odysseus, patriarch of the Argo pack, sat at the head of the table with his hands folded. Hatchet gestured for Sammy to sit on the right-hand side and took a seat on the left. Sammy winced as the seat creaked underneath his weight. Six and a half feet tall, he was an imposing figure to anyone who didn't know him. Under the combined scrutiny of Odysseus and Hatchet, however, he felt like the smallest person in the room.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Not quite, son," Odysseus said, his grainy voice made pleasant by a British accent. Though American-born, he had picked it up on his travels across the world. He had been an adventurer back in the day before coming home to claim his birthright as the Alpha of the oldest lycanthrope pack in the United States. Sammy, of course, regarded the man in a certain amount of awe. "It's about Benjamin Morris."

Sammy felt a new wave of fear, but not for himself. As if punched in the gut, he slumped even further into the back of his chair. "Wh-what happened to him?"

"It's more like he's happening to others," Hatchet rumbled, tossing a newspaper onto the table. Sammy picked it up and saw the headline in big, bold letters: "MISSING RAPIST FOUND CASTRATED." And underneath, in a smaller font: "[i]Latest in a string of attacks against sexual predators.[/i]" Another newspaper landed in front of him, dated a few weeks back and displaying the headline: "FATHER O'DELL, MOLESTER OF 15 CHILDREN, FOUND WITH EYES, TONGUE AND HANDS SURGICALLY REMOVED."

His stomach lurched. "You guys think it's him? Why?"

"We [i]know[/i] it's him," Odysseus said. "His first... I hate to use the word 'victim' in this instance... his first target was mutilated and chewed up within days of his failure to report in to his commander in the Order. An agent investigated and confirmed the tooth marks were a werewolf's."

"Obviously the first one was a crime of passion," Hatchet spoke up. "So to speak. The guy was arrested for raping a fifteen-year-old girl, but the case was dismissed due to police misconduct. Seems Morris took matters into his own hands, and decided he liked it. He's gone after five other predators, usually cutting off their legs, their hands, their balls, or some combination thereof."

"Oh... my god," Sammy couldn't pull his gaze away from the headline. Benny... you poor bastard.

Odysseus went on, "He's using surgical equipment instead of teeth now, but he's still leaving genetic evidence at the crime scenes. Order agents within the FBI have been doing what they can to cover his tracks, but it's a matter of time before someone in a forensic lab somewhere is going to notice his DNA is not quite human, and then..."

"Every werewolf's worst fear," Sammy muttered. It was a paranoia he knew all too well; the fear of human discovery. He didn't remember much from the first ten years of his life, but he did remember his parents, vague, misty figures themselves, drilling into him the importance of secrecy. Secrecy was life. Werewolves had been humanity's silent protectors since before recorded history. But given how quick humans were to bedevil other humans just for the color of their skin, imagine how they would treat people with more body hair and longer teeth?

He finally looked up. "I need to talk to him."

Odysseus smiled. "That's precisely what the Order has asked you to do."

"Congrats, Cub," Hatchet said. "You're an honorary Agent."

The door opened behind Sammy. "I've got a badge sticker if you want one. Hey, Samson. I like the beard."

Sammy stiffened. He knew that voice. He [i]dreaded[/i] that voice. Fortune, Agent of the Order. Niece of Odysseus, daughter of the Alpha of the pack California, and heir presumptive and apparent to whichever of those would need a new Alpha first. Also, the greatest bane to Sammy's love life.

He gave her no eye contact as she sat down across the table from him, beside Hatchet. "Who in the Order did I piss off?" he whined.

"You two still don't know how to play nice?" Odysseus asked. Rather than scolding, his tone conveyed disappointment. To Sammy, that was much, much worse.

Sammy sighed. "I'm sorry. Kneejerk reaction. For Benjamin's sake, Reilly, I'm willing to bury the ha- er, let bygones be bygones." He cast a sideways glance to his mentor.

"And for what it's worth, I'll do my best not to hurt you again," she said, utterly serious.

An hour later, while Sammy was packing his bags, he pulled his best friend Donnie aside and bet ten bucks she wouldn't be able to keep that promise.