Page 2 of Jace's Mate
“Four of our offices at the Baltimore port were broken into last night,” Megin reported.His voice was steady, but the fury beneath it rippled like heat off asphalt.“Nothing was stolen.No casualties.No injuries.But the old paper files in the back storage room were dumped out.”
His jaw flexed, lips tightening with restraint.Jace knew he was holding back a flood of profanity.But Megin kept his temper leashed.For now.
“It didn’t feel like a robbery,” he continued.“Whoever did it wasn’t after anything specific.It was a message.They wanted us to know they could get in.That they were watching.”
The air seemed to thicken with the shared realization.This wasn’t just about intimidation.It was about dominance.Territory.Challenge.
Jace’s gaze moved to Ciaran, his third.No words.Just expectation.
Ciaran snapped to attention, spine straight, eyes flashing.“I’ve scented invaders in our territory, Alpha,” he said, his voice a low rumble.Rage simmered beneath the words, restrained but deadly.“Two unknown wolves crossed the border a few days ago.Three more showed up yesterday.They’re trying to slip in unnoticed—slow, staggered.Like a quiet infiltration.”
Jace’s jaw clenched.A growl vibrated deep in his chest.
“I agree,” he said, his gaze sweeping across his betas.“But why?”His voice dropped an octave, a growl threaded through the question.“Why would another Alpha send wolves into my territory instead of confronting me face to face?”
Megin answered what they were all thinking.
“No one would dare confront you directly, Alpha.Every pack Alpha and shifter in North America knows you’d rip any challenger apart.”
Grunts of agreement rumbled from Ciaran and Ragnor.
“I’d relish the opportunity,” Jace muttered, the hunger for a fight flashing in his eyes.The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, his wolf barely contained beneath the surface.But this wasn’t the time for rage.
Not yet.
He needed answers.Not blood.
Yet.
“Let’s lay out what we know,” Jace said, stepping forward and gesturing toward the digital map inset into the center of the conference table.
Jace Ulfer was not a traditional Alpha.
As leader of the East Coast pack—the largest and most powerful in North America—he didn’t cling to old ways for the sake of legacy.He followed his instincts, trusted his wolf’s senses.But he also embraced strategy, efficiency, and modern tools.
Technology wasn’t the enemy.Stagnation was.
By merging ancient instincts with modern power, he ensured his pack didn’t just survive.
They thrived.
And anyone who tried to threaten that?
Would learn, too late, what it meant to challengehim.
Jace’s pack headquarters wasn’t hidden in the shadows or buried deep in the woods like the packs of old.His territory boasted a state-of-the-art office complex—sleek, secure, and laced with cutting-edge technology.
He had no interest in sniffing the wind to sense danger when satellites, drones, and biometric surveillance offered faster results.
The old ways had their place.But this?This was evolution.
His pack—unmatched in strength and discipline—controlled the Mid-Atlantic shipping lanes, both on land and at sea.They didn’t own every ship that docked at the Baltimore port, but every operation ran through his people.Port authority, customs, inspections—all carried out by shifters under his command.
And while not every eighteen-wheeler on the road belonged to them, most of the drivers did.
His pack dictated logistics across the eastern seaboard.They decided what moved, when it moved, and where it landed.Every supply chain, every route, every manifest was under their silent control.
That kind of power didn’t go unnoticed.And occasionally, he was challenged.
