Trifecta ☆ SPN

.002

{ two }

Tatum climbed into her Riviera, the sun beginning to set over Cheyenne. She had one chance to catch her werewolf when it was vulnerable.

The moon wasn't alone in the sky, meaning Cheyenne's monster wasn't at full power.

Taking a left out of the motel lot, Tatum drove towards the abandoned warehouse she'd tracked her potential suspect to.

She'd played Fed for hours in the morning and after exhausting all her sources, finally caught a lead in the wolf's identity.

Rhen Jameson, a local mechanic who was a husband to an air force security officer on F.E. Warren.

Rhen Jameson, who'd gone missing after a sketchy disappearance right before the first murder.

Tatum, after pouring through local security cameras, had found footage of Rhen hiding out in a warehouse not too far from the military base.

The sun set cloaked the shadow of the steel giant as Tatum pulled onto the dirt road that led down to the warehouse. Unlike the warm atmosphere of Cheyenne, it only felt cold and unwelcoming.

Tatum turned off her headlights, rolling in only a little closer. She parked her car behind a run down barn, being overly quiet so even charged werewolf ears wouldn't catch her.

Her combat boots treaded silently on the rocky dirt, Tatum crossing to the trunk of her red car. She unlocked it, leafing through the artillery. She grabbed a silver knife, looping the holster belt through her jeans. Hiding two more on her person, she double checked her magazine of silver bullets before closing the trunk.

Tatum moved swiftly towards the warehouse, able to hear clangs of metal as she gained on it. She kept both hands on her gun, her fitted tank top revealing her strained arm muscles.

The hunter rounded the back of the building, scaling a fire escape soundlessly with only one hand. She crawled into the warehouse, arriving on the makeshift second floor that was only a catwalk and rafters.

However, as she inched on the catwalk, the old metal groaned with age.

The figure below snapped its head up, "I was wondering if one of you would come."

Tatum regripped her gun, no longer hiding her presence. "That tends to happen when you kill people, Rhen."

"Survival of the fittest."

"If man's the most dangerous game, what does that make you?" Tatum questioned as she moved down the cat walk towards the ramp leading down into the depths of the warehouse.

The shaggy blond met eyes with Tatum, venom in his gaze. "Better."

Tatum jumped over the last section of railing, her boots hitting the ground harshly. "Prove it."

"I don't know if it's a fair match, sweetheart," Rhen darkly said. "It'll be more interesting that way."

"Fine," Tatum agreed with a flat expression, holding her gun to the side before setting it on the ground and kicking it behind her. "You've got claws," she pulled a silver knife from each hip, holding them menacingly, "and I have claws."

Rhen growled, his shift brought on by the moonlight cascading over the warehouse. "Bring it on."

Tatum wielded her knives, picturing the face of every victim she'd seen that had been killed by a werewolf.

It gave power to her fire.

The warehouse sat silent for a moment in time, few bits of make shift furniture pieced together for squatting.