Chapter 2 - Ryder
It had been several months since Ryder had last been back home. Returning to the peaceful little sanctuary hidden within the dense forest was always jarring. After spending months on grueling, bloody black ops missions, chasing fae terrorists, hunting rogue packs of shifters, or infiltrating criminal organizations, it took a little while to adjust. Here, it was like the rest of the world barely even existed. Sure, there was the occasional scuffle between the various paranormal communities, and there had been all that trouble with the old mayor. Dreadful business, really. That was all settled now, though, and with Zach in charge, things were quieter and calmer in Bellefleur than they had been in years.
Most of the time, Bellefleur was a calm, quiet place where nothing really happened. It was the ideal base of operations, safe and secluded from the prying eyes of the general public, but it took a few days to readjust to life here after the fast pace of work. He had barely slept at all since he got in late last night, tossing and turning while his mind raced with unpleasant thoughts. He had been on high alert for months, constantly prepared for an ambush or attack, and it took time to shake off those habits.
This time, he had initially been sent on a fairly routine assignment to check up on suspicious activity reports in a remote region of central Minnesota, not expecting more than a few days' trip to verify or debunk the leads. A short road trip, just him, the open skies, and endless miles of road stretching out before him. Simple, easy, low risk. Instead, the situation had escalated, and he found himself tracking a pack of dangerous rogue shifters who turned out to be much better connected and organized than intel indicated. The chase had spanned across three states before he finally lost their trail. All he could do for now was return to HQ and report what he knew.
That was where he was headed this morning after a quick stop at the coffee shop to get a much-needed caffeine fix. He felt like he’d slept no more than two hours at most the entire week. His mind was racing at a million miles per hour, focused on piecing together everything he knew and compiling information for his report.
Jotting down information on his phone, he paid little attention to the world around him as he stepped inside. He automatically dismissed the faint tingling sensation in his neck as leftover paranoia from the chase, barely aware of Mrs. Oswald's cheerful greeting. Coffee. All he needed right now was coffee. Lots of it. Preferably straight to the IV drip. With barely a glance up, he greeted the little old lady behind the counter, smiling distractedly as she said something or other about—
Elena. The name pierced through the haze, and his head shot up from the screen. The tiny redhead was standing across the cafe with her hair tied up in a ponytail, emerald eyes looking right at him with an inscrutable expression. His first instinct was to blink to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Nope, there she was, the bane of his existence. Looking every bit as stunning as ever in a loose, white shirt, tight blue jeans, and a khaki jacket. For a second, he lost track of time and space, forgetting everything except for how painfully hard his heart was thumping in his chest.
No, Ryder, get it together, he told himself. Swallowing quickly, he steeled himself, remembering why he kept his distance from her. Not just because she was Tolliver's little sister. His life was dangerous, and anyone he got close to was at risk. Especially right now, if what he'd sensed during his mission was correct. It didn't matter how much some deep-seated wolf instinct thrummed in his veins with the desperate yearning to claim her as his own. Every protective bone in his body rebelled against the idea of her ever being in harm's way, which meant staying far away from him at all costs. Nothing had changed. That was how it had to be.
So he played it off, pretending she didn't affect him at all. Acted like he barely even recognized her. He turned his attention back to his notes and shut out his wolf howling at the top of its lungs to look at her, pay attention to her, and be with her. Instead of acknowledging that, he quickly ordered a cup of coffee and looked away from her, not making eye contact again. It was easier that way. Safer that way. Still, as she stormed off moments later, he couldn't help but sneak one last glance, drinking in the image of her walking away from him. Damn it. Why did she have to be so irresistible?
Even after she exited the café, the sweet, flowery scent of jasmine lingered in the air. It remained in his nostrils even as he received his coffee, thanked Mrs. Oswald, stepped back outside, and made his way to the motorcycle he had parked in the nearby plaza. He threw his leg over the sleek, metallic frame, tugging his black helmet on, and started the ignition, still unable to shake Elena's scent and the image of her delicate, elfin face from his memory. Her soft porcelain skin and full, pink lips were tattooed in his mind, taunting him with the knowledge that she was forbidden.
The motor roared to life beneath him, and he revved the engine, speeding out of the parking lot. Riding was liberating, helping to clear his mind of the thoughts that swirled incessantly. It forced him to concentrate on the road, the wind whistling in his ears, and the cool early spring breeze whipped against him as the bike raced down the street. Within minutes, the town square was a blur in his rearview mirrors, and he hurtled toward the old oak forest.
His equilibrium returned as he took a left down a dirt path into a ravine. Soon, he entered a cave entrance that blended perfectly with the trees and foliage. He slowed his speed, heading underground, the tunnel lit by bright LED bulbs, until he finally emerged into the underground bunker belonging to the Bellefleur pack. He killed the engine, removed his helmet, and proceeded on foot down the main corridor. Passing rooms containing weapons, equipment, sleeping quarters, and other amenities, some of the other shifters in his unit called out greetings as he passed by. He nodded cheerfully at them but was on a tight schedule today. There would be time to catch up with his friends later.
As he reached the command room, Ryder pulled out his ID card from his jacket pocket and scanned it at the sensor next to the large metal door. There was a short, high-pitched beep as the digital lock clicked open and the door swung slowly inward. Inside, a huge circular chamber was illuminated by cold blue light, the walls covered in large computer screens displaying surveillance data, maps, news broadcasts, and other intelligence information. It was manned by several agents working tirelessly around the clock, filtering through intel from across the nation and the world. He walked straight ahead into the office at the back of the control room.
Behind the desk sat Zach, the young alpha. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he looked somewhat weary, with dark circles under his blue eyes. Despite that, he looked up and smiled when Ryder stepped inside, and the door slid shut. Zach set aside the pile of documents he had been reading and got to his feet. They greeted each other with a slap on the back and shook hands firmly, both grinning as they took their seats on opposite sides of the desk. Ryder sank into his leather chair and leaned back, feeling relaxed for the first time in days.
“You look like hell,” he informed his old friend. “Long night?”
Zach laughed and shook his head. “No longer than usual,” he answered with a shrug. “Kyle has been teething, and Hayley and I are running on empty. I don't suppose you want to babysit sometime so we can get a couple of nights of uninterrupted sleep?”
It was Ryder's turn to chuckle as he shrugged apologetically. “Sounds rough, man,” he offered sympathetically. “That's what you get for settling down. All that mated domesticity stuff isn't for me.”
He grinned, making a point to look as though the prospect was utterly repulsive. He was renowned throughout town for being an untamable playboy, and that image suited him just fine. At least that way, no one would question why he refused to let himself get attached to anyone. Elena's freckled face popped into his mind, and he immediately shook the idea away again. He'd made peace long ago, knowing she would never be his mate, no matter how much his wolf claimed otherwise. That was okay. He could live with it. He had to. For her sake.
“It'll get to you, too, eventually,” Zach warned teasingly. “Sooner or later, every wolf finds their mate. When you find yours, you'll forget all about that eternal bachelor nonsense and be just as happily whipped as the rest of us.”
Ryder grimaced and shook his head. “Yeah, I doubt that,” he said cheerfully, not letting on for one moment that he'd found his mate years ago. If his friends knew about that, they would never let it go. Tolliver would probably be livid, too. “Anyway, we've got more pressing issues than my hypothetical love life. Are you awake enough to be able to take a report? There's a lot to cover.”
Zach frowned, his playful demeanor replaced by an all-business demeanor. Nodding, he tapped his desk, unlocking his tablet. The surface hummed softly to life, and he leaned forward on his knuckles.
“You were gone for much longer than anticipated,” the alpha wolf observed. “We got your briefings, but this seems unusually serious. What is it?”
For the next thirty minutes, Ryder relayed everything he had learned. He described how the rogue wolves had been causing trouble throughout the upper Midwest with attacks on isolated human communities and established wolf packs. There had been over a dozen confirmed casualties so far, as well as numerous eyewitness testimonies of shifters rampaging in town centers.
These appeared to be unaffiliated rogues, driven mad by isolation or exile. Such wolves were outcasts who, for whatever reason, had turned their backs on—or been forced out of—their true packs. That was an extreme act, only undertaken when no alternative was left. Being without a pack was as anathema to a wolf as being deprived of water. As such, rogue wolves were, on the whole, the worst of the worst. Often, exiles lose touch with reality, becoming obsessed with bloodshed and violence as a way to escape their pain.
It wasn't unheard of for renegade wolves to band together, but such groups rarely stayed together for long. There tended to be too much infighting and power struggle to keep any organized structure going for more than a few months. Until now. This particular group seemed to have remained unified for at least a year. It was an unsettling development, to say the least.
The whole time they talked, Zach's keen sapphire-blue eyes were locked onto Ryder's, sharp as daggers, as he listened intently. “So what are they after?” the alpha asked eventually once they had covered everything. “Were you able to uncover a specific purpose or a centralized force giving orders? Any connections to known organizations or leaders?”
Ryder rubbed his temple and shrugged. “Nothing conclusive,” he admitted. “I suspect they're after territory from their attacks on other packs. Trying to establish a real pack, maybe. No telling exactly, but they're growing stronger and more coordinated. At this rate, it won't be long before we have a major incident. I've put out word to other regions but haven't heard back. The trail's gone dead for now.”
He twitched uncomfortably in his chair, glancing over Zach's shoulder at the map hanging on the wall behind the desk. It contained the locations of numerous local packs, with pins and sticky notes denoting possible threats and other notable events. His eye was drawn to a small, familiar photo clipped to the corner. Zach's gaze followed his, and he arched an eyebrow. In the picture, two former agents were depicted standing next to each other, wearing their field uniforms. Beneath it was a simple note: MIA: Asher Hayes. Status: Unknown. Whereabouts: Unknown.
“I caught his scent in Illinois,” said Ryder, crossing his arms, his jaw clenched with tension. “Just before we lost them. I know it doesn't prove anything. Could be a coincidence, but...”
His voice trailed off. Zach's eyebrows arched further upward. The men stared at each other for a second, the implications of that comment swirling in the air. It had been almost five years since Iris, the brunette in the photo, had been killed in action.
Her mate and partner, Asher, had deserted afterward, disappearing from all radars. He blamed them—blamed Ryder specifically, who had been new and inexperienced at the time. It had been his very first mission, with Asher and Iris there to train him and make sure nothing went wrong. But something did go wrong. Iris died, and Asher demanded that Zach expel Ryder from the pack. The alpha refused. As a result, Asher turned his back on all of them. Since then, no one had seen him.
There was silence for several seconds. “None of your messages mentioned that, Ryder,” Zach said sternly, a deep frown etched on his face. “Asher is a potential threat to all of us. You know that.”
Ryder rolled his eyes. “Look, he might not even be involved with these rogues,” he argued. “There was a trace of him near one of the attacks. He could have just been passing through. The trail was too stale to say for sure if he was part of the pack or not. I didn't report it because there's no reason to assume it's relevant. We already know he's out there somewhere and hasn't done anything in five years. Besides, if he's going to come after anyone, it's me. No need for anyone else to get dragged into it.”
“Ryder,” Zach drawled in a warning tone, obviously frustrated, “I know you feel responsible, but we are your pack. We watch out for each other and protect one another. There's no room for pride. Understood?”
Ryder nodded stiffly. Even after all these years, so much guilt was still gnawing away at him about that failed mission. Sometimes, even he wondered if his old friend had made the right call. Asher had been a part of their unit since Zach's father was still alive and in charge, back when Ryder and Zach were still just kids. Asher had been a local legend, and everyone considered him a protector and a guardian. Ryder had wanted to impress the older wolf with his dedication, ambition, and commitment to duty, but all he managed to do was get someone he admired killed. The thought of it ate away at him. If Asher wanted revenge, well, maybe he deserved it.
“Understood. Sorry,” Ryder muttered half-heartedly. “Anyway, there isn't much we can do until we hear back from our contacts. For now, we've lost these rogues. The local unit is staying in the area, on standby, and watching the borders. That's all I've got.”
Zach sighed heavily, leaning back against his chair and running a hand through his messy hair. “Right. Good work, Ryder. Get some rest for now. Report to medical before you leave and get checked for injuries,” he said finally. “Take it easy, all right? You've earned a break. And come by the house sometime so we can catch up without all this business in the way.”
“I’m ready to get back to work,” Ryder protested. “I’ll head out there and—”
“You’re going to take it easy, reacclimatize, and rest,” Zach cut him off with a stern look. “You’ve just come home from a dangerous mission, and you need time to regroup. This isn’t a discussion.”
“Look, I’m the one who knows these rogues. I—”
“I’ll pass on the information you’ve given me to the rest of the pack. Once you’ve had a few days to regroup, you can join them in the field. We need you well-rested, Ryder. No reckless heroics,” Zach argued calmly. His tone of voice brokered no argument.
Ryder sighed heavily and got to his feet, nodding at his old friend. “I'd ask if you want to go grab a drink, but you'd probably pass out by the time we got to the bar,” he teased. “Seriously, you get some rest too. Don't let that pretty witch of yours keep you up all night.”
With that, he opened the door, waved goodbye to his tired-looking friend, and strode back out of the office. All right. Take it easy. Sure. He could do that. All that stood in the way was debilitating guilt, the nagging reminder of an unfinished hunt, an impossibly beautiful woman who was completely off-limits, and the knowledge that his former mentor, now a revenge-fueled rogue wolf with a grudge, might have returned.
Why would he be anything other than totally relaxed?