Shadow Moon Series - Book cover

Shadow Moon Series

Rain Itika

Age Rating


Lara is a trained assassin. When she’s sent on a mission to kill millionaire Roland Catch, a man who made his fortune by exploiting child labor, she’s happy to oblige. She doesn’t expect to fail, and she definitely doesn’t expect to find out that werewolves exist, that Roland is an Alpha…and that she’s his mate. Turns out that’s only the beginning of what she doesn’t know. While Roland struggles with what do about this human woman he's bound to, Lara’s past is about to catch up to both of them.

Age Rating: 18+

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Chapter 1


The moon shone against the clear night sky, not a cloud in sight. The glow illuminated the building that stood in the middle of the forest, surrounded by nature. The contrast was distinct, life against modern.

Lara couldn’t help but admire it. Three stories of architectural wonder.

She didn’t know anything about that, but what she did know is that the person who designed it spent hours planning so each line flowed into the next as if it was grown that way.

“Maybe one day,” Lara whispered to herself.

She was still imagining how her future could look in a place like this when the light on the top floor suddenly went on.


Her eyes lit up with excitement and she moved like a lion about to kill its prey, edging closer to the building.

The leaves beneath her feet ruffled slightly like it was just the wind blowing them around and not a person walking on them.

Thank you, ballet, she thought. If it wasn’t for those lessons, the noise might have alerted her newest assignment she was just outside, plotting his death.

His name was Roland Catch. He was a millionaire who used child labor to make his money. The worst of the worst.

Killing him would not only rid the world of scum, but also make an excellent notch on her kill belt.

The picture the company had given her showed a man in his late twenties with blond hair and a chiseled jawline.

Sadly, he had worn sunglasses, but she knew behind them were the eyes of a killer. Maybe not with his physical hands, but by the way he ran his business. She despised him already.

The memory sprang to mind as she edged closer to her destination, the one when she had received the mission.

Her previous assignment had taken its toll on her, the mark giving a stronger fight than the ones before. She been sitting in a chair for not even a second, awaiting debriefing, when the orders came in.

Temptation had been strong to turn the new assignment down, but when she heard the reason, anger sparked in her.

Moving closer to the house, with a smirk plastered on her face, Lara could make out better details of the outside and inside.

The walls outside were a washed-out gray, and smooth. This would make it harder for her to grasp, but luckily each floor had a balcony, making it more accessible to jump up.

A couple of yards from the building, she stopped, calculating how she would get to the third floor. The intel said that Roland’s—a.k.a. numero uno scum’s—room was at the top facing the north.

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out slowly to calm her nerves, she imagined how to get to the top level.

First, she would have to sprint up to the wall, then use the surface to push her upward to be able to grab the second-story railing, and then push off that and catch the third-level railing.

“Pft, easy breezy!” she mumbled to herself. Since she was slim and tall, she had always been better than her classmates. Faster, stronger, quieter.

It had helped her in her line of profession, but not so much in making friends.

As she imagined getting to the top one more time, Lara put her right foot behind, bent down and pushed away.

The light breeze brushed her hair and face as she picked up momentum and got closer to the side of the building.

When she was about to run into it, she gave a small jump, both feet planted on the wall, and using her leg muscles, she pushed herself away from it.

As she flew into the air, her hands shot out and grabbed the second-story railing. She felt the cold metal cutting into her fingers as she climbed to the top part of the railing.

Her lungs were being pushed into overdrive, but she didn’t give up. She was so close.

One more push. She tried to motivate her muscles, but deep down knew that tomorrow would be a bitch.

Looking up, she spotted the third-floor railing and mentally thanked the dead man for leaving his light on and showing her the way. Breathing in deep one last time, she jumped up.

Her fingers wrapped around the last railing, and she let out a sigh of relief at making it. After a few deep breaths to quiet her screaming muscles, Lara pulled herself up and silently climbed over.

Relief flooded her as her feet contacted the concrete floor. She never usually had to go to these lengths to get to a mark, and she was proud of herself.

Pretending she was on stage, Lara gave a deep bow for an imaginary audience, using the seconds to stretch out her cramps.

Grabbing the mask from her back pocket, she pulled it over her sweaty face, hair clinging everywhere. She couldn’t have anyone seeing her ugly-ass self.

Tiptoeing to the door, she peeked in through the open curtains. In front of her was the biggest (and softest, she assumed) bed that man could create. Four wood posts rose up with detailed carving—sadly she was standing too far away to see the details.

To the right of the bed was a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows with a small side table wedged between them.

Two doors were set in the left wall. One door had light peeking through the bottom and steam rolling out from underneath the crack. That was the bathroom, and where she needed to go.

Knowing where the target was now, she tried opening the door, and to her luck and amazement, it was unlocked. It would have sucked to break open this beautiful piece of architecture.

Stepping inside softly, she reached behind her again and grabbed the knife held in her pants. She gently removed it from its sheath, holding it up to the faint light emitting from the side table, admiring the precise details.

She had paid handsomely to custom-make it, and Roland would be the lucky one to try it out for the first time. Only six inches long, but deadly in her hands.

As she crept forward, she strained her ears to listen to what was happening behind the door. The sound of rushing water informed her he was busy showering.

That would make this a much easier kill. Most people were at their weakest when they were naked and wet.

She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the door handle, counting to three in her head before she proceeded.

She was about to turn it to enter when her hand was ripped from the handle as the door swung open violently.

Her eyes met a smooth, muscled chest. And as they traveled upward, she came in contact with simmering green eyes that held anger and death in them.

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