Page 35 of The Alpha's Grave Secrets

“Not him, the other one.”

“Richard?” The bartender is unsettled. I can tell he recognizes Kato and knows exactly who he is. “He was just here to pick up his check. He left a few minutes ago.”

Kato curses under his breath, and I see the struggle in his eyes. He wants to tear into me and demand answers, but there’s no time for that now.

“We’ve got his address,” the bartender adds, handing over a slip of paper he’d just scribbled on.

“Don’t call him and warn him,” Kato says as he takes it, his grip tight. The bartender swallows and nods, looking at a pair of servers near the drink well who have been listening intently.

His eyes meet mine, blazing with anger and something else—something protective, raw, and primal. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “Right now, we’re going after him.”

“I’m coming with you. We can’t waste another second.” I nod, swallowing the guilt, knowing I’ve crossed a line. But there’s no turning back now. We’re in this together, and the hunt is on.

Chapter 18

Kato

The house looms in front of us, dark and silent, the kind of quiet that seeps into your bones and makes every breath feel too loud. Callie is already in position, her hands steady on the trigger of her M24 rifle, her eyes fixed on the door.

The rest of the team spread out around the perimeter, waiting for my signal. Elara is in the car, and she is threatened with arrest for interfering with a case if she leaves it; I think it will be the only thing that keeps her there.

As happy as I am that Elara has let me into her mind again, I can’t afford to be distracted right now. Taking a moment, I close my eyes, slipping into the fortress of my mind. The bond between Elara and me—shimmering bright gold—must be muted. Carefully I erect a massive wall between us, instantly dampening the feelings of her anxiety and worry.

I take in a deep breath as I open my eyes. The scent of blood hangs in the air, a fresh, metallic tang. My chest tightens. We are too late. Again.

“Move in,” I command, locking eyes with Callie. She nods, remaining firmly planted where she is.

In one swift motion, my team breaches the door. We move through the house methodically and efficiently. My wolf stirs beneath the surface, itching to tear into something to find him—Richard Brown.

I’ve spoken to him. He was the one I talked to that first night in the bar. I didn’t pick up on a thing from him. No one did. I hardly even remember him past that interaction. Whata wrong damn move that was.

Every room we sweep empty, every second that passes, my anger grows. My fists clench at my sides, fighting back the urge to shift.

“Clear,” Bruce calls from the back, his voice frustrated. “Let’s move to the garage.”

Bruce pushes open the door, and the smell of iron, fear, and rot rushes out like a wave, slamming into us. Loops with empty chains drilled into the wall. Dried blood against the metal. My wolf howls, raging within the same shackles that once held Elara.

This room holds an energy of its own, the kind of terror that lingers long after death. But it’s the fresh blood pooling on the floor that stops me cold. Another shifter. Another young woman. And she is still out there.

I grind my teeth, taking in the empty rooms. There is no sign of Richard. The bastard is gone. How did he manage to slip through our fingers again?

“Damn it,” I growl, crouching to inspect the blood. “She’s hurt, but she’s alive. We need to find her before he finishes what he started.”

Hati meets my eyes, a grim understanding passing between us. He gestures to Gun, who’s already tracking the scent. “Let’s move.”

We push through the back of the house, following the trail of blood of fear. It leads into the woods, the scent hanging like a beacon, and my pulse races with each step. My wolf paces beneath my skin, desperate to break free, to hunt.

But the scent fades.

“Her scent’s getting weaker,” Gun says, his frustration bleeding through.

I can feel it, too. It’s slipping away, vanishing into nothing, and then, just like that, it’s gone. Once again, the trail runs cold.

“Shit!” Gun curses, turning on the spot, his nostrils flaring as he tries to catch even a whisper of her scent. But there’s nothing.

Retracing our steps back to the house, we comb through every inch of it again. Searching desperately for a clue to where Richard might have gone. But we can’t seem to find anything. The panic is growing. Minutes tick by, and we’re left with nothing but a sickening silence.

Yelling from outside and a tug of desperation down the bond snaps me out of my pity party. I rush to the front door, and Elara is charging toward the house, her eyes blazing with determination.

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