Chapter 5 Nova
NOVA
“Reece Walton. Twenty-nine. Turned werewolf five years ago. Blond hair, brown eyes, medium build. Works for Rathvan, a wayward house for newly turned wolves.” Zeth paused, then read more.
“Last seen Friday the seventeenth at eleven p.m., Whitefish fight night. Wearing a brown leather jacket, denim jeans, and black steel-toed boots.”
Zeth skimmed the file and let out a low whistle. “Turned wolves who actually live past their first change aren’t exactly thick on the ground. He should stand out.”
Werewolves, like vampires, weren’t some ancient race carved out of myth.
They were mutations. A demon’s deal in the wrong hands, a mage’s spell layered on top, and humanity suddenly had a new branch on the tree.
One that could be passed down through bloodlines or forced onto a body when the supe DNA mixed into a human's bloodstream.
Being born with it was easier; your body adapted from the start, and you had a lot more support on how to control yourself and your urges.
Being turned was different, like jamming a new operating system into hardware that wasn’t built for it.
Most crashed and burned before they ever made it through the transition.
That was why turned wolves and vamps were rare.
Those who survived carried a mark all their own. You could sense it in the aura they put off, the smell in the air around them. Like a human skin was stretched over a wild and restless wolf body, just waiting for its moment to bust out.
“If he was that easy to find,” I muttered, tightening my grip on the wheel, “Ezra would’ve already had him.”
His job at Rathvan set alarms buzzing in the back of my mind, and I finally understood the connection to Ezra. It fit her recruitment playbook to a T.
She was always planting roots in projects that looked noble on the surface—orphans, shelters, scholarship programs, training centers.
On paper, they were lifelines. In practice, they were hooks.
People ate because of her, slept under her roof, and learned skills on her dime.
Gratitude turned into loyalty, and loyalty made good foot soldiers.
By the time the Syndicate asked for payback, you were already in too deep to walk away.
“Does it say why he was here?” I asked, flicking a glance at the file. “Last I saw, he was based in San Diego.”
Zeth flipped a few pages. “Came for the brother of a dead friend. Robert Delton—human, got strung out, OD’d.
His brother Jeremy hit the bottle hard one night and wandered into the wrong woods, wrong night, ended up under someone's claws, and was turned. Reece lived with him for a while, helped him get on his feet, then Jeremy found work here in Montana. Looks like Reece just kept tabs on him… until about a week ago when he finally showed up.”
I nodded, trying to wrap my head around the situation. “We got a work-up on Jeremy?”
One question kept circling in my skull. Why had Reece needed to come all the way here to check on him?
A phone call could’ve done it. Hell, a damn video call would’ve been better, but no, he flew out, showed up in person, then vanished.
That reeked of something wrong, and the only one who could possibly have the answers was Jeremy.
Zeth tapped at his phone, exhaling sharply. “Not yet. He kept himself off the radar, cash only. Everything under the table, nothing that left a trail. I’ve got guys digging, but he’s slippery.”
I ran my tongue along my teeth. The more I heard about Jeremy, the more I was convinced that he was the pin in the grenade. Find him, and we’d find Reece.
“Fine. Just tell me the second you’ve got a lead.” I swung the wheel hard, shifted into all-terrain, and took the jeep up the rocky incline.
“You got it, Boss.”
I almost rolled my eyes at that but let it go. Zeth only used the boss card when optics mattered. Most of the time, he was the one pulling strings I didn’t have time for. That, and he was my only friend, the only person by my side at the end of the day.
We worked out, ate together, and wasted hours on dumb movies or video games, but the second it got late, he was gone like clockwork.
Off to some woman’s bed, no doubt. I never asked.
Never wanted to see it. The thought of watching him walk away into someone's arms, giving her everything I wanted, would’ve hollowed me out worse than I already was.
I always reminded myself I didn’t have the luxury.
I could barely keep the plates spinning as it was.
Captains across the Rossey clan who needed wrangling, Ezra breathing down my neck for weekly numbers, siblings who were allergic to asking for help but needed me anyway.
My life wasn’t mine. It was the Syndicate’s, and there wasn’t room left over for anyone else.
So, when the itch clawed too deep, I gave in to the wolf.
I’d slip into the woods, find a stranger, and let the moonlight erase me for a while.
Just a night. Just a body. Wolves were wired to crave it, to take whoever was there under the silver glow.
That was the law of instinct. At least until you found your mate.
Then it was different. Once that happened, nothing else would ever touch that hunger unless it was them.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to look at my wrist. The invisible ink there was a promise I’d made to myself, as binding as any chain. No mate. No weakness. My choice. No regrets.
Except… Aniyah. She’d shattered the rules, torn straight through the same spell we’d resigned ourselves to, and now she had five mates. Five mates who adored her, worshipped her, would bleed, burn, and die for her. She was wrapped in the kind of love I didn’t even let myself dream about anymore.
Some people got everything, while the rest of us? We watched. We kept moving. We swallowed it down and pretended it didn't hurt. It was my duty, and strength and control were my gift, so I was built to handle it.
Grinding my teeth, I shoved the thought back into its cage and focused on the trail.
The truck bounced down the far side of the hill, carving its own path toward the pits.
That was what we called the Rossey training center, where every supe who wanted into the clan came to prove themselves.
I liked to get a look at the goods before Hime got the pleasure of tossing them out.
I just wasn't able to pass up on good potential.
About a half-mile out, the one-story building came into view, looking more like a warehouse than the state-of-the-art fight gym it was. Exactly how I liked it, remote, tucked deep in the forest, where I could clock outsiders before they even thought about knocking.
The Rossey training center was meant to bring all of our potentials together in one place and train them.
From there, we’d see if they were meant for the main stage, our legal security work, or Syndicate muscle.
Everyone had a place and their own worth; it just depended on what your strengths were and where you could make us the most money.
As we rolled up to the gate, I leaned out the window and whistled at the two bird-shifter brothers, Rax and Rumble, perched on guard duty today.
Soon the chains clinked, the gate dragging open at its usual glacial pace. I eased forward and through just as the iron jaws snapped shut, a beat after my back tires cleared.
“Fuck, they almost clipped us!” Zeth screeched. Half out the window, he flipped the finger toward the trees.
I sighed. “They’re just doing their job.” He flopped back into his seat with a huff, arms crossed like a brat who’d been denied dessert.
Rax and Rumble were oddballs, sure, but they were loyal.
Efficient. I could live with quirks. My family was so full of eccentricities that nothing fazed me anymore.
Anyway, I wasn’t here for them. Hime had flagged a few new fighters as being worth my attention, and while I was at it, I’d press the crew about Reece and Jeremy.
We pulled up to the front. I cut the engine and climbed out. Taking a second to stuff my key into my back pocket, I went for the door to the facility, only for Zeth to suddenly dart ahead and hold it open for me with his smooth, practiced smile.
I froze mid-step. What the actual fuck? Zeth Carter, playing the gentleman? With me? Why?
My eyes narrowed. I closed the distance, standing so close his warmth brushed against mine, and studied his face like I could peel back skin and bone with a single look.
His smile faltered, unease flashing in his eyes as I leaned even closer, moving slowly and deliberately.
His breath hitched, and for one reckless second, I could feel how easy it would be to just… tilt forward.
“What, Nov?” His voice cracked slightly, his gaze flicking down to my mouth before darting away. “W–what’re you staring at?”
I straightened at last and folded my arms like armor, keeping my emotions in check even though my pulse was still quick. “Trying to figure out if you got body snatched. Usually, the eyes give it away. Nothing’s screaming ‘I’m not the real Zeth’… yet.”
His easy grin shattered. Jaw tight, he growled through his teeth and threw his hand behind him like he was flicking at a fly. “All right, all right. Just get your ass inside, then.”
Pointing at him as I crossed the threshold, I laughed, covering the little spark of heat in my chest with mockery. “There he is. That’s the Zeth I know.”
“Haha, hilarious.” Shoulders loosening, he rolled his eyes, but the slip of disappointment didn’t escape me. I almost asked about it when Hime’s booming Brazilian accent thundered across the room.
“Aw! La princesa!” Hime threw his arms out wide like he was wrangling lions, his grin cutting bright under the lights. “Come, come! The torneio de luta has begun!”