I ignored Selena’s prying and dialed Stefan’s number.


    “This is Leora’s husband—”


    “Yeah, the Author, right?” His voice was gruff but friendly. “She told me you’d be calling. So, what’s on your mind?”


    “How do I become a Hunting Dog? From what I know, I’d need a recommendation from an ex-member.”


    As the light ahead turned red, Selena slammed the brakes, jerking us to a halt. I gripped the handlebar and, belatedly, clicked my seatbelt into place. She looked over with an expression that screamed, Are you insane?


    Stefan laughed on the other end of the line. “You want to volunteer? No one’s come to me asking that in years—most forget that recommendation system even exists. But I’ll write you one. Thing is, you’ll need to be an Association-licensed hunter first.”


    “On my way to handle that,” I replied.


    I powered down my phone and returned it on my pocket.


    The Hunting Dogs. They were a special unit within the Hunter’s Association, an elite squad meant to take down the top bounties—the ones the Association was particularly keen to erase from the world. The members weren’t exactly the sort you’d find on a hero poster; they were criminals, psychopaths, and the best hunters alive, answering only to the chairman. A hidden force, unknown even to most hunters, probably filed away in some locked drawer under the chairman’s desk.


    Selena raised an eyebrow, letting out a scoff. “You really think you’re badass enough to join? I mean, I’m not that suicidal—”


    “What? Thinking of backing out now?” I asked. It was a genuine question.


    She looked at me, eyes narrowing with reluctant concern. If she was going to tail me as closely as she’d promised Leora, she’d need to become a Hunting Dog, too.


    “Your wife used to work as a Hunting Dog,” she muttered, almost resentfully.


    “I know…” I replied, though it was something my wife probably didn’t realize I knew.


    “All the more reason you shouldn’t join. The Dogs are... not the good guys. No morals, and there’s no going back from a place like that.”


    "I would," I said, feeling the weight of the words as they left my mouth. "My wife did, didn''t she?"


    Selena was silent. I could feel her glancing at me, her usually mischievous expression tempered by something else, something almost like hesitation.


    And the truth? I wasn’t even sure I believed it myself.


    “Drive,” I said quietly.


    Without another word, Selena pressed the gas, and the car moved forward, weaving through the city streets.


    “Selena, you’re strong enough to make it big in the hunter world,” I said, cracking open the window for some air. “I’m fairly certain even people from the Hunting Dogs would find you a formidable opponent… but your lack of ambition is holding you back. The truth is I could use every bit of help I can get—and that means you.”


    I understood why she reacted so strongly at the mention of the Hunting Dogs. My wife practically grew up among them if I remembered her backstory right. Selena? Her dad had been one of them too… and worse, he was a total jerk. But it got worse—her dad was one of the Seven Extremes, recognized as one of the top seven strongest hunters in the world.


    I continued, keeping my tone sincere. “This is a selfish request, but I hope you can guard my back, Selena…”


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    My ability needed a partner to work efficiently; without someone covering my back, I’d be as vulnerable as a sitting duck. I still needed time to grow. I considered Grue or even Jacob as potential bodyguards, but I preferred someone my wife trusted.


    Selena eyed me suspiciously. “Are you thinking of asking the chairman for a favor?”


    “Yeah,” I replied, watching the cityscape blur outside the window. “I need protection for my family. Joining the Dogs could earn me that favor. The Elsewhere Cult has power I can’t touch on my own. Something like the Hunter’s Association is what I’d need to deal with maniacs like them.”


    She scoffed. “I still don’t get it. If they’re so strong, why haven’t I heard of them before?”


    I met her gaze briefly. “You’d be surprised how many secret organizations are out there.”


    The car came to a halt as we arrived at our destination. Before stepping out, I reached into my breast pocket and handed Selena a tarot card: The Moon.


    She raised a brow. “One of the twenty-two major arcana… So, what? Are you going to predict my future?”


    “Not quite.” I had used my Maker State to imbue the card with my mark. Recently in-flight, I’d awakened a new attribute, something I called the ‘connection’ attribute. It was vague in concept but held a lot of potential. “I considered using a bookmark, but a tarot card has its own charm. With that, I’ll know where you are—whether you’re dead or alive. If you channel your aura into it, you can talk to me directly. Think of it as a more secure line than any phone; you can keep it in your pocket, send a pulse of aura, and we’ll communicate mentally. It can’t be jammed or hacked by anyone, even aura-users.”


    She stared at the card with a hint of intrigue in her expression, and slipped it into her pocket.


    I popped open the trunk, grabbed my suitcase, and noticed Selena toss her car keys to a valet. Together, we approached the imposing, antiquated building ahead of us.


    Selena glanced at me. “Are you really going in like that? You do know there’s going to be fighting in the exam, right?”


    I adjusted my tie, feeling the slight weight of the suit’s reinforced layers. “I’m fully aware. But this suit isn’t just for show—it’s layered with protection. Besides, I look handsome as hell in this.”


    The truth was, I’d rather have been wearing something like shorts or anything with more range of movement. But protection was protection, and this was the same suit I’d worn at that gala where I’d eliminated a number of Elsewhere Cultists. I imagined they wouldn’t be caught off guard the same way twice.


    Once inside, I took in the scene—a diverse mix of people, from aura-wielders practically glowing with power to the entirely mundane, all here for the exam. There were easily over a hundred people, maybe more. Despite the numbers, the high ceiling and spacious layout kept it from feeling too crowded.


    I made my way to the front counter, Selena trailing just a step behind. At the desk, a clerk looked up at me with a tired but curious expression.


    “I’m here for the exam,” I told him.


    The clerk handed me a pamphlet and an annoyingly long form. “The exam will start in 30 minutes. Here’s your pamphlet, and please fill this in.”


    Flipping through the packet, I realized it was a combination of a questionnaire and a waiver. I filled it out half-heartedly, knowing full well this was likely some psychological tactic to weed out the mundanes who weren’t serious about this life. Unofficial hunters like myself knew exactly what we were here for, but some of these hopefuls… I could sense hesitation in a few.


    Then there was the waiver—essentially pages of fine print detailing how the Association wasn’t responsible if we ended up dead. I signed my name with no fuss and handed everything back.


    As I stepped away from the line and waited for Selena, someone collided with me—a burly guy with a nasty scar across his forehead and the unmistakable stench of booze. I felt a controlled aura coming from him, a telltale sign of an unofficial hunter.


    “Watch where you’re going, twat,” he sneered, his accent thick and grating.


    Normally, I’d turn around and walk away from this kind of person, no matter how obnoxious. But as he brushed past, I felt my wallet and phone vanish from my pockets. It had to be some kind of special ability—my aura sensitivity was too sharp to miss the faint trace of energy. I narrowed my eyes.


    “You look like a brute, but it seems you’re just a lowly thief. Give it back before you regret it.”


    The brute turned around and sneered at me.


    I felt a twinge of amusement. His cockiness was almost endearing, if he weren’t so predictable. Thanks to the Soul Link, I’d grasped the finer details of his “misdirection” attribute and had it at my disposal. I only needed the barest of touch for my special ability to work. My own attribute, “connection,” allowed me to delve into his aura’s inner workings with ease—no detail was too small, and nothing escaped my notice.


    “What did you do?” he growled, stepping closer. He loomed over me, easily a head taller, but his size didn’t faze me in the slightest. “Give it back.”


    Using Soul Link wasn’t subtle, especially against a fellow aura user. I just smiled and said, “Sure.”


    Returning his borrowed aura, I leveraged the connection to mimic his thieving technique. With the precision and speed of a seasoned hunter, I swiped back my wallet and phone—plus a little extra—without him noticing.


    He gave a smug huff, satisfied with his supposed “victory,” and stalked off, convinced he’d cowed me.


    Simpleton.