Page 1 of Wanted By the Cartel

Chapter 1

Lyrian

The scent of stale beer and desperation clung to the worn floorboards of the Howling Pine as I wiped down the ancient oak bar, making sure not to miss a single spot.

Like every night for the past eight months, I kept my movements precise and controlled, never drawing attention to myself even as I served as the focal point of the tavern's activity. Doing that was crucial to me.

It was a delicate thing I'd perfected over years of hiding—be memorable enough to explain my continued employment, forgettable enough to disappear without a trace if needed.

My platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the overhead fixtures, and I tucked it behind my ear, careful to keep the crescent moon birthmark hidden. There were some people who couldn't know about it.

The mark burned slightly, as it always did when the full moon approached, reminding me of the heritage I couldn't escape no matter how far I ran. It was a curse.

"Another round, pretty boy," a gruff beta called from the corner booth, his words slurred. I acknowledged him with apracticed nod, neither too eager nor too dismissive. The trick was to be pleasant without inviting conversation, to serve without being servile. Otherwise, men like him would pounce on me.

As I poured the drinks, I monitored my scent blockers with the hypervigilance that had kept me alive this long. Three different kinds, layered carefully each morning—expensive, but necessary. In a world where being an omega was dangerous enough, being a moon-blessed omega was tantamount to painting a target on my back. The magical potential in my bloodline made me valuable. Too valuable.

The glasses clinked as I arranged them on my serving tray, the sound sharp against the low murmur of conversation and the melancholic strains of whatever sad country song played on the ancient jukebox. The music was so bad I wished I was deaf.

Eight drinks for the party of rough-looking betas who'd rolled in an hour ago. They wore the leather cuts of one of the smaller shifter motorcycle clubs—dangerous enough to warrant caution, but not connected enough to pose a real threat to my carefully constructed cover. The realization gave me relief.

"Here you are," I said, distributing the drinks with efficient movements. One of them let his fingers brush against mine as he took his glass, testing boundaries. I withdrew smoothly, my expression pleasant but distant. "Let me know if you need anything else." And I immediately thought I wished he didn't.

The burn of my birthmark intensified in a flash, sending a jolt of awareness down my spine. I resisted the urge to reach for it, to try to soothe the persistent ache. The moon's power was growing stronger as we approached the full moon, making it harder to suppress my true nature. Nights like this one were dangerous, when the magnetic pull of lunar magic made my careful constraints feel like chains.

Behind the bar again, I began preparing for the evening rush. Silverpine might have been remote, buried deep in territory that straddled the boundaries between three major shifter packs, but the Howling Pine drew enough traffic to keep me busy. Truckers, wanderers, and those who preferred to conduct their business away from prying eyes—they all found their way here eventually.

"You're looking a little pale today, Lyrian," Mae, the elderly human who owned the bar, commented as she emerged from the back office. Her concern was genuine, which made it all the more dangerous. Attachment meant questions, and questions were something I couldn't afford.

"Just tired," I replied, offering the kind of smile that discouraged further inquiry. "The full moon always makes it hard to sleep." A safe excuse—everyone, shifter or human, understood the moon's effect on our kind. It was almost the perfect explanation.

Mae's weathered face creased with maternal worry, but she knew better than to push. She'd hired me no questions asked, paying cash under the table, and that arrangement worked best when neither of us knew too much about the other. Still, I caught her sometimes watching me with knowing eyes, as if she saw more than I wanted her to.

I resumed my routine, the familiar motions keeping my hands busy while my senses remained alert to any change in the tavern's atmosphere. I sometimes could be hyperaware of anything that happened around me.

The door opened, letting in bursts of cool mountain air that carried the scents of pine and potential danger. Each time, I evaluated the newcomers while trying not to seem like a creep.

A pair of omega females, clinging close to each other—likely runaways. A lone alpha who took a corner table, nursing a whiskey and radiating the kind of tension that spelledtrouble. It immediately informed me that I shouldn't initiate a conversation with him no matter what. And then, three betas who were obviously enforcers for someone, though their scents were carefully masked. I could barely detect anything about them.

The mark behind my ear throbbed again, more insistent this time. I closed my eyes for a few seconds, centering myself against the surge of power that accompanied the pain. The moon-blessed gifts of my lineage were both blessing and curse—enhanced strength, heightened intuition, and magical abilities that made me nearly impossible to track. But they also made me valuable to those who understood what I was, who knew the potential that ran in my veins. And for those reasons, among others, I had to remain in hiding.

A flash of memory threatened to surface—running through moonlit woods, the sounds of pursuit close behind, the weight of responsibility and heritage pressing down on me like a physical burden. They were terrible recollections that I would rather never remember again.

I pushed them away with all the determination I could muster right now. Remembering the past wasn't going to help me right now. If anything, it might put me in more danger than I already was, and I couldn't afford to make too many more mistakes.

"Water with lime," the alpha at the corner table called out, his voice carrying across the growing noise of the tavern. I prepared his drink as though someone was controlling me, noting the way his gaze followed my movements. There was something calculating in his observation that set my instincts on edge. Who was he? Did I even want to know the answer to that question?

As I approached his table, I kept my barrier spells in place—another gift of my lineage, the ability to shield myself fromthe dominant pheromones alphas often used to identify and influence omegas. Without them, people would have discovered the truth about me long ago.

"Here you are, sir," I said, setting down the glass with precise movements that kept me just out of reach. The extra security measure was paramount. The alpha's nostrils flared slightly—testing the air, trying to catch my scent. I knew he would find nothing but the carefully constructed blend of beta pheromones I used to mask my true nature, and then he would give up.

"Thank you," he replied, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. Still looking for what he wanted, wasn't he? "You're new here, aren't you? I don't remember seeing you before."

"I've been here eight months," I answered, the response automatic and practiced. "Will there be anything else?"

He shook his head, but I could feel his gaze following me as I returned to the bar. It was an eerie sensation. My instincts screamed at me to run, to pack my meager belongings, and disappear into the night as I had so many times before. But experience had taught me that hasty departures drew more attention than careful exits. People would ask about me. For now, I was going to watch, wait, and evaluate whether this alpha's interest warranted breaking my cover.

The night continued its predictable pattern—drinks poured, tabs settled, and the occasional minor dispute quickly diffused. But beneath the routine, I felt the familiar tension building. Something was changing in the cautiously balanced world I'd constructed here. The burning of my birthmark, the increasing pressure of the approaching full moon, the alpha's too-keen interest in—they all pointed to the same conclusion. It was something I didn't even want to think about.

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