THE DETECTIVE WHO HUNTS HER OWN KIND

A body on the wrong side of the line. A suspect she isn’t supposed to trust. A department that would rather be fast than right.

Detective Mara Voss has spent eight years being the officer who refuses to accept a convenient answer, ever since watching her own father’s murder investigation close in eleven days because fast looked better than accurate. When a Cedarline wolf turns up dead on Ashgrove territory with a diplomatic summit nine days away, her captain hands her exactly the kind of case she’s spent her career trying to prevent: a name decided before the evidence, a suspect who fits the story everyone wants told.

That suspect is Ronan Calder, Ashgrove’s chief enforcer, and the wound pattern doesn’t fit her captain’s convenient story any better than his careful, guarded silence does. Mara has three days to find out which one of them is actually right.

What she finds instead is a black-market operation hiding behind old territorial grudges, a partner who has spent six years learning exactly what institutional convenience costs the people it’s supposed to protect, and a growing certainty that the real danger was never the man in the interview room.

Ronan didn’t do it. He also isn’t willing to explain the one thing that would clear him, because clearing himself would cost someone else everything. Mara has to decide how far she’s willing to go, how much of her own hard-won career she’s willing to risk, to get to the truth instead of the timeline her department needs.

The Detective Who Hunts Her Own Kind is a slow burn, closed door paranormal police procedural romance about the difference between the badge and the truth, and about two people who choose accuracy over convenience, together, at real cost, when it would have been so much easier not to.

No cliffhanger. No love triangle. Just a real case, solved properly, by two people who earned every bit of trust between

them.