Jasmine nodded. “He wanted you to know the truth of who he was, but given the dangers surrounding his way of life, he wanted to protect you. In a way, he’s been throwing himself in front of bullets for you for years.” Jasmine leaned forward, drawing Charlotte’s gaze. “Eli wasn’t perfect, by any stretch. But I know that he loved you, and I know that he would have done the exact same for you. He wanted us to tell you the truth at the end, because he couldn’t die knowing that you’d never know. He loved you, Charlotte. There’s no question about that in my mind.”

  Charlotte’s face hardened as she stared up at Rhonda. After a moment, the edges softened, and she gently wept. “Thank you, both. The truth is that I loved him, too, despite all the lies. I just wish it wouldn’t have had to end this way.”

  Jasmine took Charlotte’s hand in her own. “I know. So do we all. But we can’t waste his sacrifice. Eli died so that we all could live, and that’s something that we can hold close to our hearts.”

  Charlotte offered a weak smile, the first genuine sign of warmth Jasmine had seen from her. “I can believe that.”

  Jasmine returned the smile. She remained at Charlotte’s with Rhonda for a few hours, sharing stories of Eli and drinking and toasting in his honor. When they finally left, the sun was beginning to set. Rhonda slept soundly for the drive home while Jasmine drove in silence, thinking of Charlotte, of Eli, and of the task that remained ahead of her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The usual chatter of customers filled the Nest, business returning to usual in the wake of the events with Jasmine’s father. Behind the bar, Ivan served his customers, intermittently cleaning tables before the next group of patrons walked in.

  Jasmine crossed her arms and stared down at the counter. Not all that long ago, her sights had been set on a different enemy as she’d tried to track down what had been the biggest threat she had known. Now, everything had changed…

  The peppered vodka remained untouched beside her as Jasmine focused on the faces smiling up at her. The Polaroid picture was small, and the color had faded to a shade of sepia. Detailed in its frame was one person that she recognized and two who no longer existed.

  She rubbed an affectionate finger over the face of her mother. She looked so young here, eyes twinkling with vigor as she beamed at the camera. She wore a simple black tank top with high-rise jeans. Her eyes were absent of the wrinkles that Jasmine remembered from her kitchen chats each evening.

  A little blurred and framed in the background was a baby in a bassinet. The Moses basket was wicker, and beneath the virgin white sheets was baby Jasmine, years before her memory would form, caught in a time she would never have believed to be real. A stuffed octopus sat at the bottom of the basket.

  The man beside her mother was a stranger to Jasmine now. Tylindale MacConaugh beamed at her mother with love and affection in his eyes. His hair was combed back, with a rash of stubble on his face and bright white in the frame. Here was a man who Jasmine had believed might still exist. The father she would never truly have.

  She had found the photo a few years back while clearing out the items from her family home. In the wake of her mother’s passing, Jasmine had worked hard to clear out the items that wouldn’t be needed, finding her heart hurting with each fragment of memory or treasure that had belonged to her mother. Some she had kept—her mother’s appliances helped her to fill Jasmine’s kitchen—but most of it she had thrown away.

  She had found the photos buried in a cardboard box at the back of the attic. After wiping a layer of dust from its surface, she had sat in the attic and flipped through time. A single skylight shone golden light around her as she paid homage to her mother and picked out the pictures that caught her heart the most.

  This was one such picture. She couldn’t explain why she still had it nearby after all she had been through. Her mother had done everything she could to erase her father’s presence from Jasmine’s existence, but she had still kept these treasures around. Jasmine imagined it had to have been hard. The two people in this picture were very much in love. These two people would never dream of hurting each other.

  What the hell happened? Could things have been saved? Could things have somehow been different under alternate circumstances?

  Jasmine turned her attention to the carved wolf totem beside her. She picked up the lightweight item and rolled it over in her hands. She was starting to believe that she understood what her mother had been trying to teach her all these years. For decades, her mother had taught her to push the wolf away, to remain hidden from the supernatural world as much as possible, and to integrate with society. At the time, Jasmine had believed it was because her mother wanted to keep her safe from her monstrous wolf form, to fear what she could become because to be a Were was to be a monster.

  But no. That wasn’t it, was it? Her mother had tried to keep her hidden from a world that was dark and filled with real monsters. Her father, once a patriarchal figure, was the monster she’d been afraid that she herself was.

  That’s what her mother had been protecting her from. Jasmine could only assume that her mother had hoped Jasmine would remain forever hidden from that world and not have to face the villainous aspect of her father—a father who had tampered with Jasmine’s biology without her mother’s knowledge. How little her mother had known about what was to come. She supposed her mother had imagined she’d be with Jasmine for years to come. Jasmine hated how early death had taken her.

  She put the totem down and stared blankly ahead, taking the first time she’d had in a long time to process it all. She sipped the vodka, then placed it back on the counter, not quite ready for the heated ashen taste in her mouth. She sighed and stared back at the picture.

  The door of the Nest opened, and two figures walked inside. Jasmine, her gaze fixed on the table, didn’t notice Ivan stiffen at a nearby table with a damp cloth in his hand. She didn’t notice the curious stares from the surrounding patrons as many of them looked at the man and his bodyguard strolling between them.

  The pair reached Jasmine. The man took the stool beside her, and his bodyguard stood proudly behind him, a mountain of gray skin.

  “Is this seat taken?” Tylindale asked.

  Jasmine gritted her teeth, anger erupting inside her. She shook her head and squeezed the vodka dangerously tight. A thousand images of destruction entered her mind as she pictured claws and gashes and gouges, and her father lying in pieces on the floor.

  But not here. Not now. What good would it do, anyway?

  “Bit late to ask, isn’t it?” Jasmine replied. “You’ve already taken your seat. You’re good at doing that, aren’t you? Taking things that don’t belong to you.”

  Her hot and intense gaze met his cool and collected eyes. She was taken aback by his brashness. Never in a million years would she have predicted he would stroll into the Nest as though nothing had happened. Like people hadn’t died at his hands.

  “Fair point,” Tylindale conceded. He sighed. “You want me dead.” It wasn’t a question.

  “So you’ve come to kill me first?” Jasmine asked.

  A smile flickered on Tylindale’s lips. “Jasmine, please. If that was the case, I could have already done so. You think I’d traipse through this city and find you here just to put an end to your life? You don’t know me at all.”

  “Whose fault is that?” Jasmine returned sourly.

  Tylindale nodded with understanding.

  Jasmine downed her vodka. “Just say what you have to say, then get out.”

  Tylindale watched her curiously. He glanced at the picture, then at Ivan, who had appeared before Jasmine, already pouring a second vodka.

  Jasmine was glad for Ivan’s proximity.

  Tylindale took a deep breath, angling himself toward Jasmine. “I’ve come to say that I’m sorry for how things ended between us. I never would have wanted events to unfold as they did that night.”

  Jasmine scoffed.

  “You could have walked away,” Tylindale remarked. “You could have left me to my devices, allowed what was inevitable…” He lowered his gaze, clearly digging deep through his limited emotions. “I would have liked us to start over, Jasmine. I would have liked us to continue anew, though I know that option has been struck from our possibilities. It’s clear enough in the look in your eyes.”

  Jasmine ran her finger over the picture of her mother and laughed.

  Tylindale continued, “I’ve come to warn you, Jasmine.”

  Jasmine’s ears pricked up.

  “Big things are to come,” Tylindale informed her. “Pieces are in motion that cannot be changed. The world that you have known is about to enter a revolution, and I need you to know that I am not going to stop for anyone or anything. I believe in my cause, and I believe in my actions.” He cocked his head, a nostalgic smile on his face. “I only wish that you could see it, my girl.”

  Jasmine shuddered.

  Tylindale wasn’t done. “I only wish that you could see how I see. If you would even entertain what I am trying to achieve, there might even be a part of you that was proud of me. The good that I’m doing. The momentous miracles I am achieving…”

  Jasmine burst out in a full belly laugh, drawing the attention of a few local patrons.

  Tylindale’s smile slipped, his eyes darkening. “However, I understand your view and your position. Please consider this your warning to remain out of my way, Jasmine. There is no stopping what is coming, and despite our differences, I do not wish for you or any more of your friends to put themselves in harm’s way. I care for you, Jasmine. I always have.”

  Jasmine focused on the bright eyes of the man in the photo. “Stay out of the way? Ha. You would only have told someone to stay out of the way if you knew they were a genuine threat. If you knew they had some way of disrupting things.”

  Her father appeared tired. He looked as though he was going to place a hand on her shoulder, then thought better of it. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, Jasmine.”

  “And I don’t want to have to go up against my own father,” Jasmine agreed. “But you gave up that right the moment you tampered with my DNA. You forfeited all rights to tell me what to do the moment you killed my friends.” She leaned closer. “You can bet your bottom dollar that I am absolutely going to get in your way. I will do everything in my power to prevent what it is that you have planned, because I believe in this world, not some utopian bullshit led by the maniacal and the sociopaths. If you didn’t want a fight, you should have considered that before pulling me into this shit. You made your bed. Now lie in it.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Jasmine was unable to discern whether her words had affected anything in her father.

  Tylindale slowly nodded. “Very well. I suppose I’ll never understand your stubbornness, but I can’t say that I’m surprised.” He glanced at the photo with a longing look at her mother. “Your mother wouldn’t have wanted us at odds like this, Jasmine.”

  Jasmine sat back, considering this. She looked down at the photo, then raised a single finger. The bone claw revealed itself slowly, and Tylindale’s gaze followed in fascination.

  Jasmine held the picture firmly to the counter as she dragged the claw around the figure of her father. When she reached the edge, she plucked the cut-out free and flicked it toward Tylindale. “You can take this part. Turns out this man’s not real at all. Never has been. He’s just an idea—no…just the ghost of an idea.”

  Tylindale picked the picture from his lap. He screwed his hands into a fist, then dropped the crumpled piece of the picture on the floor. He rose to his feet, a shadow over his face. When he spoke, it was low, through gritted teeth. “Stay out of my way, Jasmine.”

  Jasmine turned to face her father. “No. I plan to get in the way, and often.” She met Mr. Hughes’ eyes and spoke to him. He was looking at her with sorrow. “And if you stick with him, then you’re going to soon find out that you picked the wrong side of the family.”

  Her father growled and strode from the Nest. Mr. Hughes hesitated for only a moment before he followed. Jasmine watched them both until they were fully out the door, and she could no longer make out their silhouette through the windows.

  When they were finally gone, she snatched up the peppered vodka and drained it in one drink, grimacing as anger and pain and hatred coursed through her. A fire arose in her stomach as she thought of her father. She had a sense of purpose. Her goal was to thwart him at every turn. She wasn’t sure what was to come, but she knew that he was going to fail.

  If he wasn’t afraid of her, he wouldn’t have come to scare her off…

  And wasn’t that something to drink to?

  MICHAEL’S AUTHOR NOTES

  SEPTEMBER 29, 2022

  Thank you for not only reading this story with these author notes as well!

  One more day unto the month…breech…shit.

  We have one more day until SEPTEMBER is over! Dayyyummm, where did the month go?

  I’ve spent all of September (well, except a few days in Mexico City) in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.

  It’s been…different. A lot calmer, certainly a bit more boring, I would say. However, my blood pressure is lower (when I remember to check it.) This is one reason I wanted to stay down here for a while.

  Would the location help my health? I’d have to say it has.

  Since my wife and I will be flying back to Las Vegas in a couple of weeks, I’ll be able to see whether just being around a bigger city affects my blood pressure or not. Perhaps it’s just that I’ve lost weight, and that is helping?

  That could be it. Probably is… damn.

  SO MUCH COMING SOON!

  For those who are reading this series, THANK YOU! We have many more stories coming at you (over 100 in the next four months alone!)

  As I’ve mentioned, the seeds of Victorious Redemption were planted by my stepmom because she liked zombie stories.

  There was no way she would read any of my sci-fi, urban fantasy, etc. etc.

  This November, my wife and I are going to ‘door2door’ my parents from their home in Texas to a week in Mexico and back. It will include pickup at their house to the airport and a person waiting for them when they get off the plane to take them back home a week later.

  My dad was ‘It isn’t that far to the airport, we can drive it’ and after I’ve seen the bill… He might be driving the next time. However, for THIS trip, they will be treated like the rock stars I had always hoped to be able to do for them one day.

  And thanks to readers like you, I can make that dream a reality, so thank you.

  If you enjoy a little paranormal in your action books and are hankering for something a bit more contemporary and a little less were-wolfy / zombie, give the Chooser of the Slain Series a try.

  (Book One: Valkyrie)

  I (hope) you like it!

  Talk to you in the next book.

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  MORE STORIES with Michael newsletter HERE:

  https://michael.beehiiv.com/

  THE FINAL SHOWDOWN

  THE VICTORIOUS REDEMPTION BOOK SIX

  CHAPTER ONE

  The night was calm, snow drifting steadily down around them, adding to the inches of white that blanketed the estate. The air smelled clean, the moon hovering silently overhead, winking through the clouds, watching the figures slip through the shadows and close in on their target. They passed like whispers in a crowded room, flashes of yellow eyes darting across the exposed areas and back beneath the cover of shadow.

  Jasmine padded along behind them. Her gaze was set on the building ahead, a large warehouse that, during daylight hours, was used as a packaging and delivery facility. Sources told her it hid a much darker secret inside, though. Their footprints were the only true sign they’d been there.

  Jasmine looked across the courtyard to make out the dark shape of her co-operative in this mission. Qadir had been firm in his conviction that tonight should be the night for this, and any time spent hesitating would only lead to further destruction and chaos. Jasmine wasn’t one to argue with Qadir’s intellect. He had proven on more than one occasion so far that he was a near-match for her father, and if he said that tonight was the night…

  Well, then, tonight was the night.

  Jasmine crept forward, finding a small recess in which she could hide from view. The wolves were like liquid, hugging the edges of the surrounding industrial estate. The rudimentary security detail seemed a bit of an oversight given the contents of what they believed lay inside, and Jasmine wondered why they wouldn’t invest more money in securing the rare and valuable goods they hosted.

  She watched and waited until the wolves stopped moving. Somewhere overhead, a raven cawed, and it was like the creature was watching, commanding its troops with its signal.

  Jasmine pressed a finger to her ear. “Waiting on you for the signal.”

  A low wolfish growl crackled through her earpiece. She grinned.

  Qadir’s voice followed. “What’s the point in having these if they can’t talk back?”

  Delilah replied with a gruff edge to her words. “Who says we can’t?”

  Jasmine glanced across at Qadir, surprised to find him grinning back at her. It lightened her heart, having seen only despair and determination in Qadir’s eyes since their encounter with her father on the bluff had gone awry. To this day, she couldn’t forgive the sequence of events that had aged Qadir and hardened his outer shell. This man was nothing like he once was. Once, he had seemed young and full of vigor—a little afraid and untested, perhaps, but untouched by hardship.