Chapter 19

Chapter

Nineteen

Pain shot through my torso as I reached for a book on a dusty shelf in the back of the archives, gritting my teeth and cursing up a storm. Only a day had passed since I nearly died from a stab wound through the gut. Much to Fane's annoyance, I refused to lounge in bed any longer.

How could I just lie there when Barric might be involved in the abducted shifters? I had to do something to unravel this twisted mystery even if it meant being cramped in this dusty, stuffy room for hours.

Finally, I managed to pull out the heavy book that supposedly held some of the earliest records of the Silver Ridge pack and hobbled back to my table. But as I opened it, a few old manila pages fell out.

"What the hell?" I lifted one, attempting to decipher the cursive writing and old dialect. The frayed edge on one side made it clear the pages had been torn out of another book and shoved into this one. A word within the decorative writing suddenly caught my eye .

Bloodlines.

My pulse spiked as I continued to read the page describing pure bloodlines of shifters that could be traced hundreds of years back. These wolf, coyote, bear, panther, lion, and tiger lines had founded an organization to protect their lineage and keep the sacred magic of shifters safe.

Ice ran through my veins as the realization hit me. This was explaining the formation of The Collective Hunt.

Why were these pages stuffed into this book?

I glanced around for a hidden camera. I rarely believed in coincidences, and finding this right now couldn't be random. Someone had put these pages in here as if they knew I was looking into the pack's history.

Was it Valeria? Was her loopy personality all an act? Was she trying to help me discover the truth?

As I continued to read, sweat rolled down my nape, and I expected Barric to catch me any moment. Hansel Reamer, a wolf shifter, was the founder of the racist group, and at first, they only tried preventing other shifters from turning humans, even if it was their fated mate.

My stomach soured as I learned about Hansel's thirst for purity. Eventually, they donned masks and would infiltrate villages at night, slaughtering bitten shifters. And then they'd started murdering any human offspring too. Hansel made alliances with witches to assist them in their cause.

Why would witches care about shifter bloodlines? What did Hansel offer them in return for their help?

Lost in thought, I missed the approaching footsteps and jumped when a deep, rich voice broke the usual silence in the archives.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you, Tate. "

My hand flew to my chest over my racing heart as the alpha of the Blackwater Falls pack stood a few feet away, his tall form dwarfing the space. "Saint?"

A smile pulled at his pillowy lips and brightened his gunmetal-gray eyes. "You remember me."

"Of course." How could I forget the smoking hot young alpha who hit on me after a meeting in Mohan Wilds? Fane almost tore his throat out, and that was when the demon shifter really wanted to kill me. "What are you doing here?"

He strolled forward and took a seat across from me, the rickety wooden chair groaning under his weight. As he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, colorful tattoos inking his arms showed. "I heard what happened." His focus lowered to my torso where the stab wound dug into my flesh. "Barric told me you had quite the scare."

"Oh." My brows knit as I studied him, the two rings on his right index and ring finger catching the light from the nearby lamp. Why would Saint care? He barely even knew me. "So you just came all the way to Silver Ridge to see me?" Remembering the sensitive information I was reading, I casually slid the old pages under my arm.

Saint had been the one to point out that only bitten shifters were being taken, but for all I knew, that could have been part of some elaborate plan. He could be besties with Barric.

"Not exactly." A faint blush crept into Saint's cheeks, and he averted his eyes as he palmed the back of his neck, tugging on his ebony curls. "I was passing through town after visiting some other packs and thought I'd stop by to see you."

Something about the young alpha caused my defenses to falter, and instead of accusing him of lying, I reined in my defensive side. "That was nice of you. "

His gaze lifted to mine, going from gray to liquid-silver pools in seconds. Even though I had no idea how old Fane was, I could tell Saint was younger. He hadn't lived through years, maybe decades, of pain and torment like the demon shifter had. But there was still a layer of sadness clinging to him.

"You're not totally creeped out by this random guy paying you a visit?"

A laugh slipped out, and some of the tension still twisting in my muscles vanished. "Not totally." I held my thumb and forefinger together. "Only a little."

Saint's teeth flashed as he unleashed a dazzling smile that nearly stole my breath, and if I wasn't hopelessly obsessed with Fane Maverick, I might have melted in my seat. "That makes me feel less stupid. I can take a little creeped out." His attention lowered to the desk, and before I could stop him, he reached out and plucked one of the papers out from under my arm. "This looks old. What is it?"

When I tried to snatch it back, Saint yanked it out of my reach. "Just something I found."

The smile quickly faded from his handsome face. "Why are you researching The Collective?"

"I'm not," I lied. "Those pages were stuck in this book."

Deep lines developed across his forehead as he passed me back the page. "You should be careful looking into that group."

"Why? They're not around anymore, right?"

Saint let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah, right."

I rested my hand on his arm and tilted my head to peer into his eyes. "Do you think otherwise?"

"I know otherwise." He dragged his fingers through his hair, tousling the curls even more. "They attacked my mom a few years ago. "

My jaw slackened, and any suspicions I had of Saint being involved fell away. "What happened?"

"She's a bitten shifter, obviously, and she was out running on the edges of our pack territory when a bunch of assholes in masks surrounded her." He swallowed hard, his nostrils flaring as if he could see the event playing in his mind. "Instead of outright slaughtering her, they forced a potion down her throat that would slowly, painfully kill her."

Invisible claws ripped into my chest at the audible anguish wrapping Saint's words. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, but I slid my hands into my lap so I wouldn't. "Did they find the ones responsible?"

"No." The muscles in his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. "No one outside of our pack believed her when she claimed The Collective Hunt was responsible. Everyone else assumed the potion had screwed with her memories. That vile group has been extinct for decades—or so they would have everyone believe."

They were smart to keep in the shadows. They'd probably attacked others like this, but no one blamed them. Sometimes people didn't want to see the truth even if it was the most logical explanation.

"Did she… die?"

He shook his head. "Thankfully, my parents are fated mates, and my father was able to heal her."

My brows slammed down. "Fated mates can heal each other?"

"For some things, yes." Now that I'd moved my arm and uncovered the rest of the torn pages, Saint leaned closer, examining them. "It took a long time, but my dad's constant presence and their bond eventually healed her."

"I didn't know fated mates could do that," I mumbled, thinking of Fane and Marissa. If Fane was dying and Marissa could save him, would I let her stay by his side to heal him? "Would that still work when the bond had been rejected?"

Saint's head lifted, his lips pressing together. "Marissa wouldn't be able to heal Fane since she rejected him and broke the bond." He gave a sad smile when he noticed my perplexed expression. "It wasn't hard to guess what you were thinking, Tate."

"What else don't I know about fated mates?" My studies on them while I was a raven had clearly been lacking.

"It's a complicated subject, and not every aspect has been documented." He gave a half smile. "You can't exactly put into words the emotions and feelings fated mates have for each other. According to my parents, it's like attempting to describe paradise in a language no one else can understand."

"Wow." That was close to what I felt for Fane even though we weren't fated. "So, no fated mate for you?"

Shadows swirled within Saint's silver irises, and his broad shoulders lowered. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's in the cards for me. My parents have sent me to almost every pack in the country during the full moon to see if a bond might reveal itself, but no such luck."

My heart hurt for Saint. Having parents with a fated bond, he probably grew up expected to eventually have the same thing. "I'm sure you'll meet someone you'll want to create a mate bond with, and you'll be just as happy as your parents are."

"I hope so, Tate." Saint leaned forward, so close his scent floated up my nostrils, like pine and crisp winter air. "Fane's lucky to have found that with you when he didn't with his fated. I can't say I'm not insanely jealous."

An electric tingle crackled over my neck tattoo moments before the demon shifter appeared in the room, glaring daggers at the male wolf sitting a lot closer than I'd realized.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here with her, Grimstone?" Fane crossed his arms over his wide chest, his canines elongating as his lips curled away in a snarl.

Oh, shit.

I jumped out of my seat so fast pain tore across my wound, and my vision blurred. Fane was by my side in seconds, lowering me back to the chair.

"Don't start a fight, Maverick," I said through our mental link. "We were just talking."

"I'm not starting anything, fiera mika. He did by sniffing around you like a desperate little stray."

"Maybe you should go lie down, Tate," Saint said. "You nearly died a day ago."

Fane turned toward him, a growl crawling up his throat as anger throbbed through the bond. "Don't worry about my mate, Saint."

The alpha shrugged and slowly stood, knowing better than to make any sudden movements when Fane was teetering on the edge of sanity. "I didn't mean to overstep my bounds."

"This isn't the first time," Fane pointed out.

"I apologize." He gave me a gentle smile and started backing toward the door. "I'm glad you're okay, Tate. It was nice seeing you again."

I ignored the growls vibrating Fane's chest as he stood behind me, his fingers wrapping around the back of the chair so hard the wood creaked. "Thanks, Saint."

The young alpha's gaze swiveled back to Fane, something dark flashing in them. "If I were you, I'd claim her before you lose her."

"Is that a threat?" The ebony tattoos inking Fane's flesh twitched as his beast roamed toward the surface.

"It's a warning." Saint's nostrils flared, and his hands curled into fists as if he was having an internal struggle. "Anything could tear her right from your grip if you're not careful."

My nightmare of walking into the warehouse years ago to find my friends dead and Jayla being attacked suddenly blurred out of focus. The metal, concrete, and partially burnt walls evaporated into smoke.

When the scene re-formed, I stood inside the mystical forest within Silver Ridge's compound, a full, round moon hanging in the starlit sky.

What the hell is going on?

A shaft of silver light shined on the dark, wet splotches along the leaf-strewn ground.

Blood.

A metallic hint perfumed the air.

As I traveled through the tall pines and maples, an ebony shape emerged, pacing back and forth with agitated movements. Fane's beast form always sent tingles down my back. That impossibly black fur, the long sickle claws, and those gleaming spikes down his back and on his paws were as mesmerizing as they were terrifying.

He halted and hovered over a small form on the ground, his shoulders tightening. Fane's head craned back, and he let out a bone-shaking growl that had my hands clamping over my ears. The painful cry tore through the atmosphere like an explosion ripping apart reality.

What the hell happened ?

I shook off the ringing in my ears and stepped toward the scene, my heart dropping when I finally understood Fane's anguish. Another version of me was sprawled on the ground, my throat torn out and gaze fixed on starry sky. Dead.

This wasn't my nightmare.

It was Fane's.

He'd pulled me into his mind.