Page 2 of Wanted By the Cartel

My time in Silverpine was coming to an end. The realization struck me like a freight train, but it couldn't be denied. I had had this feeling before.

I'd have to move on soon, find another remote location, and construct another careful facade. It was the price of survival, the cost of protecting the secrets I carried, and it couldn't be changed.

As I worked through the rest of my shift, I began making mental preparations for my eventual departure, calculating routes and resources with the efficiency of long practice.

The moon-blessed omega who served drinks at the Howling Pine would disappear as completely as all my previous identities had, leaving nothing behind but vague memories and unanswered questions. It was the only way to stay ahead of those who hunted me, who sought to claim the power in my blood for their own purposes.

I touched the burning mark behind my ear, allowing myself a moment of weary acknowledgment. The moon's call was growing stronger, and with it, the probability of being discovered. Soon, I would run again.

Chapter 2

Zoren

The beta kneeling before me trembled, his forehead pressed against the polished marble of my office floor. Blood from his split lip dripped onto the pristine surface, each drop reminding him of the price he was paying for his failure. He should have been better. He should have done better. I always required the best of the best in my organization.

"Tell me again," I commanded, my voice carrying the weight of generations of Nightshade authority, "how you lost track of the moon-blessed signature we detected in the Northern Territory."

From my position behind the massive obsidian desk—a piece that had served five generations of Nightshade alphas—I watched the beta's shoulders shake, and I didn't feel an ounce of pity.

The scent of his fear saturated the air, mixing with the subtle aromatics of the rare wolfsbane incense burning in the corner. Just as it should be.

"Alpha Nightshade, the signature... it just vanished. One moment our mages had a lock on it, the next—nothing. Likesmoke in the wind." He dared to lift his head, something he shouldn't have done. "We've never seen anything like it."

I rose from my chair, allowing my footsteps to echo as I circled him. The wolf tattoo on my left arm seemed to ripple with my contained anger, the magic in the ink responding to my emotions. It was fortunate for him that I was controlling myself so well. Otherwise, he would be nothing but a pile of blood and broken bones right now.

"Nothing just vanishes, Marcus. That's not how anything works. Someone is using ancient magic to hide their tracks, and you're going to find out how." I took a deep breath. "Otherwise, you know what is going to happen."

The massive windows behind my desk offered a view of the Nightshade compound—twenty acres of well-guarded territory that housed the most powerful shifter cartel in North America. Eight generations of my family had built this empire through cunning, force, and the strategic acquisition of magical bloodlines. I wouldn't be the one to let such a prize slip through our fingers. I wouldn't be able to live with the shame.

"Get up," I ordered, watching as Marcus scrambled to his feet. He almost fell. "You have forty-eight hours to bring me something useful. Don't disappoint me again, and you know I mean it."

As he hurried from my office, my second-in-command, Viktor, emerged from the shadows where he'd been observing. "You're being generous. Your father would have killed him for such a failure."

I was aware of that. My father would've done a lot worse than just killing him, to be honest.

"My father's methods belonged to a different era," I replied, returning to my desk and the stack of reports that demanded my attention. "Fear alone is a poor motivator for loyalty. Butfear mixed with the possibility of redemption? That keeps them creative."

Maybe my father would still be alive if he had learned that before his demise.

Viktor's scarred face twisted into a knowing smile. "And desperate men take risks that might reveal what we're looking for."

I nodded, pulling up the holographic map that dominated one wall of my office. Dozens of points of light marked known magical signatures across our territory, but it was the blank spaces that held my attention. Somewhere in those dark zones, someone with extraordinary power was hiding. Who was it? The question lingered, begging to be answered, but still avoiding me.

"The moon-blessed bloodlines were supposed to have died out centuries ago," I mused, more to myself than Viktor. I thought better when talking to myself. "The last recorded case was during the Great Pack Wars, when they were hunted almost to extinction for their abilities. It was a mistake."

"And yet here we are, chasing ghosts," Viktor said. "What makes you so sure this one's different from the other leads we've followed?"

I pressed my palm against the cool surface of my desk, remembering the vision that had jolted me awake three nights ago. Visions were important. They always told something I needed to know.

In it, I'd seen a figure bathed in moonlight, power radiating from them in waves that made my alpha wolf howl with recognition. I didn't even know if it was a man or a woman.

And that power was the same power that had once belonged to my mate, Elena, before rival packs had taken her from me. Just her memory made my heart ache.

I had good memories of her, but her death always resurfaced every time I remembered her, and I couldn't control it.

"Because this time, I can feel it." I turned to the ancient texts spread across my desk—grimoires and historical records that had cost fortunes and lives to acquire. "The old writings speak of moon-blessed shifters who could bend reality itself, who could hide entire packs from their enemies or heal wounds that would kill any other wolf. Those are extraordinary powers."

Viktor stepped closer, examining the texts with me. "And you think finding one could give us the edge we need against the Eastern Alliance?"

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