By Hook or by Wolf

By Hook or By Wolf

Sophie Stern

Contents

By Hook or By Wolf

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Author

The Bear’s Virgin Darling

Don’t Date Demons

Story Copyright 2019 by Sophie Stern

Cover Design Melody Simmons: www.ebookindiecovers.com.

Being a thief is in my blood. It's not like I steal from people who don't deserve it, anyway. I take things from bad guys, from monsters. I thieve from people who don't lead the pristine lives they pretend to.

Everything is going fine until I'm hired to steal the Gem of Malice.

I didn't realize it would be so hard to steal.

I didn't realize it would be guarded by three shapeshifting wolves.

I didn't realize they would want me as their own.

I didn't realize.

Chapter One

Natasha

Alittle to the left . 

A little to the right.

Perfect.

I shoot the grappler across the wall and it catches for just a second before falling to the ground.

Okay, maybe not so perfect. Looking around from one side to the other, I press a button to pull the hook up to me and I try again. That’s the most important thing about thieving. You always have to try again. No matter what happens. No matter what you face. You fail, you try again.

End of story.

I shoot again and this time, the grappler catches on the building across from me. The grappler holds and I breathe a sigh of relief. Finally. Breaking into an abandoned building isn’t supposed to be this tricky.

It’s an ordinary-looking building: medium-height, dull. The bricks that once shone bright and advertised wealth and riches are now faded and dark. The architecture of the once-lovely design no longer holds its luster.

It’s a pity, really, but I’m not here to admire art.

I’m here to steal it.

By the time I slide to the other building, my heartbeat is racing, which is unfortunate because I need to stay calm enough to make it past the sensors once I’m inside. I reach the building, put my grappler back on my belt, and carefully run my hands over the window in front of me. It’s locked, of course, but I’m a thief. I’ve never met a lock I didn’t like. Slowly, carefully, I maneuver the lock to slide open and then I’m in.

I’m inside the gallery.

Carefully, I lower the window behind myself. Then I take a deep breath and look around. Calm. I need to stay calm. Once I’m on the lower floors, there’s a security system in place that detects heartrates above 65 beats per minute. A human’s average resting heart rate is between 60 and 100 beats per minute, so I’ve got to be really, really careful.

Deep breaths.

Usually, when I’m stealing something, I get really sweaty and out of breath. I don’t know why. I mean, really, who knows why we do any of these things? It’s not like I haven’t done this a hundred times before, but it never seems to get any easier. I’m always nervous before a job, but today must be different. It has to be. I don’t have a choice. Losing my cool means losing the entire gig. One scare, one startle, and I’m done for.

I’ve got to stay calm and collected and on top of things because if I’m not, I’m never going to get anywhere close to the gem.

Think happy thoughts, I whisper to myself. Think about puppies and kittens and rainbows. Sunshine. The rain.

I close my eyes and breathe in and out. I check the heartrate monitor I wear on my wrist and once it’s low enough, I take a step forward and then another. The room I’m in is dusty and abandoned. Empty. Maybe it was used for storage, long ago, but right now it’s totally empty and free from anything and everything.

Carefully, I head toward the door that leads out of the room. I’ll enter the hallway, find the stairs, and make my way down to the first floor. That’s where the art gallery is, or was, long ago. This place has been closed for years. My pre-thieving research revealed that it was shut down nearly three years ago, but no one really knows why.

The only thing people seem to know, actually, is that all of the artwork and displays are still carefully protected by sensors and security. The company that owns the gallery, Claw and Sons, is known for its investments. It’s a real estate firm, which means it deals in dollar signs, and if I had to guess, I’d say the little art gallery just wasn’t bringing in enough cash to meet demand.

Which is a pity.

Still, it doesn’t make sense that they’d leave all of their work and projects behind. Why not sell off the extra items? Why not get the most out of their assets? A real estate company should know that this location is prime. The building alone could sell for triple what Claw and Sons paid for it originally, so why aren’t they selling?

Honestly, that’s not my problem. None of their investments are my problem. The only thing I need to worry about is finding the gem, getting it, and then escaping before anyone notices that it’s gone. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to drop off the gem to my buyer and then be home in time for dinner.

When I enter the hallway, I look around.

Nothing.

It’s empty.

Even with weeks of preparation for this job, I’m still nervous I might have missed something. The idea of falling into a trap doesn’t sit well with me, so I move carefully and quietly down the hall. I don’t have any sort of backup. I don’t have a team. I don’t have security cameras or flashy tech. I don’t think I’m going to need it, though. The only thing I need is to get the gem and get out.

That’s it.

I make my way to the staircase, which looks like the kind of thing you’d see in a movie about a princess. It’s wide and opens downward before it splits. The stairs wrap around both sides of the room. Images of myself in a creamy ballgown flash through my head as I make my way down the stairs, which is dumb.

I’m no princess.

I’m certainly not the type of girl who wears a dress.

No thank you.

I learned long ago that the pristine, polished life my parents wanted for me just wasn’t going to work. Thieving, living life as an underground criminal? That’s what I want. That’s the ticket for me.

It’s not just about the thrill, either. It’s about making the city a better place. I like to consider myself something of a vigilante. The city I live in is full of evil. It’s full of monsters who lurk in the shadows. You don’t even always know who the bad guys are and sometimes, I think that’s the problem.

Sometimes the people you think you know don’t have your best interests at heart.

I’m sure people see me thieving and think I’m the real monster here, but I don’t care about that. There’s no time for haters. Not in my world. Instead, I’m going to focus on making things better one day at a time. I’m going to control the things I can control. I’m going to change what I can change.

And I’m going to make a difference where I can, when I can.

It all starts here.

I move gracefully down the staircase. I keep checking the monitor on my wrist. My heartrate is good, even. It’s slow. Years of meditation have taught me that tranquility can help you achieve just about any goal. It really and truly can. Sometimes just breathing deeply gives you everything you need to focus your energies. It helps you center yourself.

A few careful breaths can mean the difference between dying and flying free.

It can mean the difference between making it and not.

So, I breathe.

In and out.

I let my breaths carry me downstairs and through the giant ballroom. Once upon a time, there were adventures here. Displays full of beautiful artwork are covered with thick, heavy linens. Curious, I stop to peek at one of the displays. It’s shaped like a statue, and when I gingerly lift the edge of the sheet, I see that it’s a gold statue. A wolf stands on its hinders. Two other wolves do the same. Three in total: all beautiful. All gold.

Outside of the law, this type of piece would go for tens of thousands of dollars. In fact, I’m guessing, just by briefly glancing at it, that the item could be pilfered for nearly a hundred grand. That is, if you know the right person to sell it to.

Which I do.

Reluctantly, I put the sheet back in its rightful place. The reality is that I’m not here to steal anything except the gem, and even that is for a very good reason. My client, the buyer, claims that the gem was stolen from her family by hoodlums long ago. She was able to show me a historical record that proves she is the rightful owner of the jewel. I don’t know who was crazy enough to steal it from her in the first place. I don’t know who thought that robbing an old woman was a good idea.

All I know is that it’s my job to make sure stolen items are returned to the people who lost them.

And tonight, that’s the Gem of Malice.

I move swiftly through the rest of the ballroom. This place used to hold galas on a regular basis. Now, it’s just kind of rotting away. It really is a pity. A place like this could be beautiful. More importantly, it could bring in a lot of money. In a place as rundown as this, money is usually a pretty good thing to hope for.

To crave.

When I reach the end of the ballroom, I enter a lobby. I’m basically going through the building backwards because just up ahead of me are the front doors to the building. I didn’t bother coming through them for two reasons.

One: I wasn’t sure if there were traps on the inside. I can see now that there are a couple of tripwires that undoubtedly sound an alarm. If I’m going to get caught, it’s going to be later, and it’s going to be because my luck is terrible. It’s not going to be because I was a huge dork who thought I