Page 3 of Wanted By the Cartel

"I'm actually sure it could do more than that." I traced the lines of an ancient illustration showing a moon-blessed omega channeling power through a crescent mark. "With that kind of power under our control, we could reshape the entire shifter world. Everything would be within our reach."

A knock at my door interrupted our discussion. One of our top intelligence operatives entered, carrying a thick file. It increased my tension by a slight amount. "Alpha Nightshade, we've completed the analysis of the magical disturbance patterns you requested."

I took the file, scanning its contents with my usual efficiency. Maps, energy readings, witness accounts—all pointing to a pattern of movement. Someone powerful was traveling between remote locations, never staying long enough to leave a trace. But they'd made one crucial mistake.

"Look at this," I said, spreading out the data. "Every location shows the same signature, just before it disappears. They're using a massive amount of energy to hide their tracks, but the act of hiding leaves its own mark, and they may not know it. Not yet, anyway."

Viktor leaned in, his eyes narrowing. He was coming to the same conclusion I was. We usually thought alike. "Like footprints in fresh snow—you can erase them, but the act of erasing leaves new prints."

"Exactly." I felt the familiar thrill of the hunt stirring in my blood. "And these new prints form a pattern. They're moving in a spiral, each jump taking them further into our territory. The question is: are they running from something, or looking for something, or maybe even someone?"

I dismissed the operative with new instructions, then turned back to my private collection of magical artifacts. Among them sat a circular mirror of black glass, its surface occasionally rippling like disturbed water. It had cost me three million dollars and the lives of two enforcers to acquire, but its power to track magical signatures made it invaluable.

"Have the teams ready," I told Viktor as I activated the mirror with a drop of my blood. "When we get a location, I want to move as soon as possible. No territory disputes, no pack politics—this stays purely within Nightshade control. It must be."

"And if our ghost turns out to be as powerful as you suspect?" Viktor asked, weighing possible outcomes. "The old stories say the moon-blessed couldn't be controlled, that their power answered only to the moon itself. And as far as we know, those old stories are probably true."

I thought of Elena again, of how her gifts had made her both powerful and, at the same time, vulnerable. This time would be different. This time, I would do more than protect—I would possess the omega completely.

"Everything and everyone can be controlled, given enough effort and want," I explained, watching as the mirror's surface began to swirl with images. "It's just a matter of finding the right leverage."

Chapter 3

Lyrian

The night had settled into its usual rhythm again, but it wasn't boring. It never was. In here, there was always something happening. There was always something to catch my attention.

I was wiping down glasses, the repetitive motion almost meditative, when the burn of my birthmark intensified from its usual dull ache to a searing flash. My hand jerked, nearly dropping the crystal tumbler I'd been polishing. What the hell?

Something was wrong. Very wrong, and whatever it was, this marked a turning point in my life. I could feel it.

The tavern's front door hadn't opened yet, but already the atmosphere had shifted. The regular patrons—three truckers playing cards, a handful of local betas, and two omega females hiding in the corner—all tensed at the same time, as if responding to an electrical current in the air. Even Mae, who couldn't sense shifter dynamics, stopped mid-motion while restocking the beer cooler.

When the door swung open, the impact was immediate and devastating. The alpha's presence rolled through the room like the biggest tsunami in recorded history, drowning outevery other scent, every other sensation, and anything else. My barriers shuddered under the assault of his raw power. I'd never felt anything like it.

He entered alone, but his presence occupied the space as if he'd brought an army. Tall, impossibly broad-shouldered, with dark hair streaked with silver at the temples that spoke of both power and experience. But it was his eyes that caught and held me—amber with flecks of gold, predatory and intelligent. Those eyes swept the room once, cataloging every detail, every person, every potential threat or advantage.

When they landed on me, my world stopped spinning.

The glass in my hand slipped this time, but I caught it before it could shatter, forcing myself to set it down instead of letting it betray my trembling hands. If I had let that happen, he would already know he found what he was looking for.

Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to run, to flee through the back door and disappear into the night. I'd done it before. I could do it again.

But I remained frozen, caught in his gaze like a deer in headlights. Somehow, I knew that running away would be a mistake.

The mark behind my ear burned hotter still, as if responding to his presence. The magic in my blood, usually so masterfully contained, surged against my control. My fingers tingled with it, and I had to clench them into fists to prevent visible sparks from manifesting—something that hadn't happened since I was a child first learning to control my abilities.

He moved toward the bar with the fluid grace of a predator, each step measured and deliberate. The wolf tattoo on his left arm seemed to ripple with power he couldn't control, and I recognized the ancient magical craftsmanship that had created it. This wasn't just any alpha—this was someone whounderstood old magic, who wielded power both modern and ancient.

He was someone I had to deal with, and someone I'd never faced before. I didn't know if I was prepared for the challenges he was bringing.

"Whiskey," he said as he reached the bar, his voice deep and resonant. It made my entire body shiver with both arousal and fear. "Your best."

I forced myself to move, to reach for the top-shelf bottle with hands that wouldn't quite steady. And given the kind of man he appeared to be, I knew he could notice my nervousness.

His scent enveloped me—pine needles after rain, woodsmoke, and something darker, more dangerous. Something that made my omega nature stir despite all my careful suppression. My body was betraying me again. If he found out who I was, it wouldn't be my mistake. It would be my body's.

"Neat or on the rocks?" I managed to ask, proud that my voice remained steady even as my pulse raced. Or did it really? Could I trust my mind to process what was happening in me and around me?

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