Page 47 of Alpha Unbound

Including our pack land. They weren’t just targeting old properties or fringe areas—they were creeping straight into Rawlings’ territory. Some of the names tied to those land records belonged to families under our protection.

Lands that had been in our pack for generations were being stripped away under the guise of debt collection and backroom deals. This wasn’t just greed—it was an invasion hiding behind paperwork.

“This is why Luke disappeared,” Kate says, eyes scanning the maps. “He found this. And they found out.”

My jaw clenches. “They got him to disappear once. They won’t get that chance again.”

I scroll to a highlighted region—one of our southern border farms recently lost to ‘bank default.’ On the surface, it looked like a standard foreclosure. Missed payments, delinquent taxes, a local family forced off land they’d held for generations. But this data exposes what really happened: a fraudulent claim processed through a fake intermediary LLC, which then immediately transferred the title to a shell company tied to Sable Rock.

But the deeper we dig, the uglier it gets.

Buried in the metadata and cross-referenced transport logs, we find shipments—decades-old manifests that shouldn’t exist anymore. The land had been used for more than farming. A secret private airstrip. Unregistered deliveries. Smuggling routes buried under barns and cornfields. Not just moonshine, but drugs. Artifacts. Shifters, even. For decades, someone’s been laundering danger through our Hollow, and no one saw it until now.

The plan was never for the land to hit the open market. Someone targeted, isolated, and snatched up the property before anyone knew what was happening. And they weren’t just buying dirt. They were reclaiming access. Old supply lines. Ghost routes. Everything coming back online.

“This is their next target.”

I look up. “It’s time we remind them the Hollow remembers,” I say, voice low, tight with promise, “and this time, it’s going to fight back.”

Eddie leans over my shoulder, eyes narrowed as more files scroll across the screen. “These aren’t just relics. They’ve been reactivating the old routes. Look—infrared pings at three of the old drop zones, just this month.”

Kate’s brow furrows. “You’re saying someone is using Wild Hollow again. Right under our noses.”

“No.” My voice is colder than I mean it to be. “I’m saying they never stopped.”

A beat of silence drops into the room. Heavy. Final.

We always thought Luke was paranoid about what was moving through the Hollow. Turns out he was right. And the syndicate he tried to keep at bay? It’s been biding time. Sable Rock didn’t just infiltrate—they rooted themselves deep, hid behind false titles and burned ledgers, betting no one here would ever be bold or tech-savvy enough to dig them up. But now?

Now we know.

“They’ve reactivated the east tunnel,” Eddie mutters, pointing to another highlighted zone. “The one under McCray’s old mill.”

Kate stiffens beside me. “That’s less than two miles from the elementary school.”

My vision narrows.

They’re not just targeting land anymore. They’re circling the people. Cutting off our defenses. Surrounding the heart of the Hollow—and no one saw it coming.

Until now.

“Start cross-referencing personnel lists,” I order. “I want to know who’s been paid off, who’s disappeared, and who’s due for a visit. We’ve got one chance to cut the head off this thing before it digs in deeper.”

Kate doesn’t speak. She doesn’t have to. The fire in her eyes says enough. This is no longer about land. It’s about legacy, safety, survival.

CHAPTER 18

KATE

Morning in the Hollow doesn't feel the same anymore. The air smells colder and sharper—as if something old has awakened. Even the birds seem quieter, their calls cautious, uncertain. There's a tension beneath the frost, coiled and waiting.

I wake up warm, tangled in limbs and flannel and the scent of Hudson. For a moment, I stay still. Letting myself breathe him in, anchor to the quiet hum of his heart against my back. His arm is slung over my waist, heavy and protective, the bite mark on my shoulder warm where his lips pressed against it hours earlier. The sensation sends a pulse through me—part comfort, part claim. It’s a reminder of the way he touched me, the way he sees me. A mark that says I’m his, not out of possession, but protection. And damn if it doesn’t make me feel steady when the world is anything but.

The quiet doesn’t hold... because too much has changed.

The stillness hums with tension now, like a thread pulled too tight. I can feel it in the way Hudson's breathing deepens behind me, in the restless flicker of my heartbeat. That brief illusion of peace—of safety—is already dissolving at the edges. The morning light has turned brittle, too sharp against thefrost-touched windowpane. Somewhere outside, a branch snaps—not loudly, but wrong somehow, off-tempo. My senses twitch. Even the silence feels unnatural, as if the world is bracing for something just out of sight. Last night we were tangled together. This morning, we’re wrapped in something heavier: purpose, urgency, the weight of what comes next.

There’s no going back—not for me. Not for him. Not for the Hollow. We’ve uncovered too many truths, crossed too many lines, and tested too many loyalties. Whatever innocence the Hollow once held is gone, burned away by secrets, blood, and the fire we lit last night when we chose each other—fully, finally, without fear. The only direction now is forward, teeth bared, head high.

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