Some people are born into the wrong life. Bain McGregor was born into the wrong species. Not quite human. Not quite monster. Somewhere in the space between the two where nothing fits and nobody stays. He grew up learning one lesson over and over in fourteen different homes — the moment people see what you really are, they leave. So he got good at making sure they never found out. Now he lives alone in a city he hates, does a job that requires nothing from him, and spends every hour that isn't accounted for hunting. Not for sport. Not for money. For one specific reason that has been eating him alive since the night he was born and his mother didn't survive it. This is not about about a hero. It is not a redemption arc. Nobody gets saved. Nobody walks away clean. The people Bain finds wish he hadn't found them. The people who try to help him pay for it in ways they didn't agree to. And the thing he is hunting — the thing at the center of every red string on every map he has ever made — stays exactly one step ahead no matter how much it costs him to close the distance. What makes a person keep going when the math doesn't add up? When the body is held together with tape and stubbornness and the destination keeps moving? That question is the whole delusion. Bain McGregor is not looking for answers. He stopped believing in answers around the time he was nine years old on a kitchen floor in the dark. He is looking for one man. And that man has been alive for two hundred years and has never once looked back. Until now. #audiobook