I hit concrete and lose sight for a moment, my second to last bullet gone. I blink a few times, trying to get the floating stars to go away. Groaning, I stumble upward and grind my teeth.  

More sloshing through the mud—this guy is ruining my night. I have one shot left, and I can't waste it.  

This time, I have to go at him full throttle.  

I set off after him once more, tapping into my lycan abilities to add a little speed boost to my stride. It takes longer than if I was in full wolf form, but I am finally on his heels.  

He throws his head back and laughs. I raise a brow and he shakes his head. “They send a little girl after me… amusing.”  

That grinds my gears. I leap into the air and am about to land on his back when he picks up his speed. My fingertips brush the edge of his leather coat just before I belly flop into a puddle.  

Great. This was also my favorite dress.  

Spitting out a piece of gravel, I make it onto my feet again after a couple of failed attempts. Wiping the mud from my eyes, I let out a feral growl and take in a deep breath to calm myself.  

Rocking my head back and forth, I work the knots out of my shoulders and tune in more deeply with my wolf half. I don't shift—I don't want to rip him to shreds—yet. I simply focus my senses completely—sight, smell and hearing.  

He's about a hundred yards away already and heading to the river. If he jumps in it, I'll lose him for good, and have to start this nightmare all over again.  

I run at an angle, hoping this time to actually cut him off without incident.  

I skid to a stop around a large oak tree.  

Normally, maybe on a sunny day and without the rotten stench of death up my nostrils, I might actually enjoy the beauty of this cemetery. Today was not one of those days.  

This time, I wait for him to run by me before I leap and land on his back. He slips, causing us both to drop, me getting mud everywhere all over again.  

We struggle in a wonderful puddle of chill water, but I eventually get the upper hand. Pressing the pistol's muzzle against his temple I glare down at him. 

“Stop moving or I blow your brains out. You can't come back from that vamp boy.” His body remains perfectly still below me. “Good boy.” I pat his cheek, making a wet slapping sound.  

“Now, you've given me quite a run for my money, and I don't appreciate getting my chain pulled.” I remove a small dagger from the sheath on my other thigh and place it flush against his throat. “You're lucky though, that the Marquis of this city has already called dibs on you, or your head would come clean off.”  

He laughs, and again I find myself irritated. “What's so funny?” 

He shakes his head. “You are ever the dutiful pet, Zoey.”  

I frown. He knows my name, and I don't like that. I slip the tip of the dagger into his neck, barely missing his artery. Marcus said alive, he didn't say in good shape.  

He flinches, but his smugness doesn't go away. 

“I don't need to hear anything from those filthy lips.” I make the grand spectacle of sniffing his chest. “You really should invest in this great invention called soap.”  

I whack the flat edge of the blade against his left cheek, hard enough to leave a red imprint.  

Taking my pistol, I press it against his neck and fire.  

The tranquilizer sinks into his neck and beneath his skin, slowly releasing a chemical that immobilizes him long enough for transport.  

It takes another two minutes for it to actually take effect, and then my body completely relaxes. I roll off of him, and sitting on my knees in a ditch of mud, I press the ear piece. “Jack Richards is ready for pick up.”  

Flipping open a small device on my wrist, I pull out a locator sticker and slap it on the vamps head. Flicking a small switch, it blinks red to tell me its working.  

Crawling to a stand, I let out a ragged breath and begin my trek to the main road.  

As I slip out of the clearing, I catch the amused look on my sometimes partner's face. I raise a finger and point it at Caleb, throwing on my meanest stare.  

“Don’t. Say. A. Word.” I hitch my thumb over my shoulder and mutter, “Go fetch.” 

I ignore his laughter as he passes me and heads off to do the easy part.  

“Oh,” I pause and turn to eye his retreating back. “Stop by Julia Arthur's tombstone and pick up my pumps.” 

I don't wait for a response.  

My beat-up pathfinder is parked on one of the side streets so it takes me another five minutes to reach it. Opening the trunk, I ruffle through the bag I keep there with spare clothes and find a clean pair of leggings and a simple t-shirt. I didn’t want to risk losing him, or else I would have changed before that stupid, and admittedly ridiculous, chase scene. 

Being as it was three in the morning I quickly change right there on the street and then jump into my car. My earpiece vibrates.  

I feel exhausted all over, but still press it—I never learn.  

“McKenzie, report in,” a gruff voice commands.  

I can't even make excuses as the line cuts off before I can open my mouth. My boss could be a real dick. Starting up my car, I pull a U-turn and drive back into the city. It is going to be a long night.