Chapter 25
Chapter
Twenty-Five
The week since the incident at Crystal Lake had been surreal.
Brie had thrown herself into festival preparation.
Hunter had been supportive, but he couldn’t relax.
All day, he sat by the front window of Sweet Summit Bakery, scanning the street.
Every customer who lingered too long caught his attention.
Even at night, every sound outside Brie’s apartment brought him to full alertness.
“How’s Brie doing?” Dom asked as Hunter took a seat at the conference table in Steel Protection Headquarters.
“Good.” Hunter managed a small smile. “Festival prep is her element. She’s got plans and schedules and elaborate gingerbread house blueprints.” Hunter rubbed his face with one hand, and he looked at Dom directly. “I’m hoping this briefing from the feds will put my fears to rest.”
The door opened and two agents from the Federal Shifter Protection Agency entered the conference room.
Special Agent James Kellerman was a bear shifter in his late forties, with broad shoulders and a steady presence. Special Agent Claire Sullivan was a wolf shifter in her early thirties, who moved with purposeful strides.
They settled around the table, Sullivan connecting her laptop to the projector system. The wall screen lit up with a detailed timeline, two weeks of investigation mapped out in color-coded sections.
“Let’s get right to it,” Kellerman said, standing at the head of the table with the screen behind him.
“Two weeks ago, your team discovered an abandoned methamphetamine lab in the industrial district. Our first week on the case was dedicated to analyzing that operation. During the second week, we focused on Dr. Thomas Brennan.”
Sullivan pulled up a series of images on the screen. The warehouse they’d found, its interior setup, close-ups of equipment and chemical residue.
“The operation was fairly small scale,” Kellerman continued. “Street value around $200,000 weekly. Based on equipment wear and supply chain analysis, we estimate the lab operated for eight to ten months before your witness report shut it down.”
Sullivan advanced the slides to show a set of chemical analyses.
“Now here’s where it gets interesting. “As you know, Dr. Brennan was actively synthesizing a shifter-targeting compound.” Sullivan pulled up slides that appeared to be scanned from handwritten research notes.
“Based on Dr. Brennan’s lab documentation and his self-experimentation logs that we acquired from the Bright Institute and the abandoned lab, initial doses enhance shifter abilities.
But metabolic dependency develops within three to five doses.
Which would require regular doses, or withdrawal would become agonizing. ”
Sullivan advanced to the next slide. “His notes document long-term effects in detail. After weeks or months of dependency, the enhancement reverses. Shifts become painful, then uncontrolled, then the body loses the ability to maintain either form. He tracked his own deterioration over several months.”
Hunter’s chest tightened, remembering Brennan convulsing on the Crystal Lake shore, the violent way his body had torn between forms. How long had the chemist been using his own creation?
“Intended purpose?” he asked, though the answer was already forming in his mind.
Kellerman’s expression darkened. “Create an addicted shifter population, then control the supply. Hook them with enhancement, trap them with dependency, exploit them until they burn out. Turn superhuman strength and abilities into a controllable asset. Brennan provided the science. The cartel would have provided the distribution network and market access.”
“How far did this get?” Dom asked, and Hunter could hear the weight of every potential victim in his alpha’s voice. “How many people were exposed?”
“That’s the critical question,” Kellerman said. “And fortunately, we have good news on this front. Based on the lab evidence, this was still in development. We found no evidence of production-scale synthesis or distribution.”
“You’re saying it never left the lab?” Siren asked, pushing off from the wall where she’d been leaning.
“We found no indication it was ever sold or distributed through cartel channels,” Sullivan confirmed. “The regular meth operation was running at full capacity. The shifter drug appears to have been Brennan’s side project. The only confirmed case of exposure is Dr. Brennan himself.”
“The cartel invested in Brennan and the lab operation. When the witness report compromised everything, they cut their losses and relocated.” Kellerman moved to the next section of the timeline. “Now regarding the location of Dr. Brennan.”
Hunter’s attention sharpened further. This was what he’d been waiting for.
“After receiving your report about the Crystal Lake sighting one week ago, we deployed a full search operation.” Sullivan pulled up a topographical map with an overlaid grid pattern in different colors.
Hunter tensed, waiting.
“And?” The word came out harder than he’d intended.
Kellerman met his eyes directly. “Nothing. He vanished completely.”
“How is that possible?” Siren asked.
Sullivan pulled up the photos Hunter had taken on his phone at Crystal Lake. They showed Brennan convulsing through an uncontrolled shift. Seeing them again on the large screen made them even more disturbing.
“In his condition, survival beyond twenty-four to forty-eight hours is nearly impossible even with immediate medical intervention. Add December cold, no shelter, no medical care, and extreme physical location. Our assessment is that Dr. Brennan died somewhere in that wilderness and we were unable to locate the body.”
The words settled over the conference room. Hunter wanted to feel relief but couldn’t quite get there yet.
“You’re certain?” he asked.
Kellerman’s expression didn’t change. “As certain as we can be without a body. The medical evidence is conclusive. Those shifts were destroying him at a cellular level. He had hours, maybe days at most. It’s been a week.” He paused. “He’s gone.”
The logic was sound. They’d all seen Brennan’s condition. No one could survive that.
“Which brings us to the cartel,” Kellerman said, and Sullivan pulled up new data on the screen.
Surveillance logs, financial transaction records, communication intercepts. All of them showing the same thing: nothing.
“Complete radio silence for two weeks,” Sullivan said, highlighting the timeline. “Known associates show no movement in the region. Supply chains are either shut down entirely or redirected to other territories.”
Axel leaned forward, studying the data. “Could they be hiding?”
Sullivan shook her head. “We have sophisticated monitoring in place. Financial tracking through multiple banking systems, informant networks within their organization. They’re not here anymore.”
“Where did they go?” Dom asked.
“Activity patterns strongly suggest Southern California,” Kellerman said. “We’re coordinating with our SoCal field office. The Sinaloa Pacific Northwest branch appears to be consolidating operations in more established territory.”
“Why abandon a market?” Ryder asked.
“Because the market became compromised,” Kellerman said simply.
“Look at it from their perspective. They invested heavily in Brennan and the lab setup. Then a witness compromised the operation. The lab was discovered. Law enforcement involvement escalated. Their chemist became unstable and is now dead. Every indicator told them to cut losses and refocus resources elsewhere.”
“They’re businessmen,” Sullivan added. “Pragmatic ones. Risk-reward analysis favors abandoning compromised territory rather than fighting to hold it. Any law enforcement pressure becomes harder to evade in a small community. Much easier to write off the investment and disappear into larger urban centers where they can operate with anonymity.”
The explanation made sense. Cartels were brutal but rational actors. They weren’t emotional. They didn’t take revenge when it cost them more money. “What about Brie Rayner? The witness?”
“We’ve monitored Ms. Rayner’s situation closely,” Kellerman said. “There has been no surveillance detected on her or her business for three full weeks. Ms. Rayner is no longer a target. With Brennan dead and the cartel relocated, she’s not worth their resources. They’ve moved on.”
Hunter felt something inside his chest unclench, a knot of tension that had been pulled tight for so long he’d forgotten what it felt like without it.
Kellerman stepped back from the screen, his posture shifting from presentation to conclusion.
“Based on two weeks of intensive investigation, here’s our official assessment: Dr. Thomas Brennan is deceased.
The Sinaloa Pacific Northwest operation has been dismantled and relocated.
The shifter-targeting drug never made it beyond the experimental phase.
There is no active threat to the Fate Mountain shifter community.
Case status is closed pending new evidence. ”
“We’re reallocating resources to active cases,” Sullivan said, already beginning to pack up her laptop.
“Phoenix has a situation requiring immediate attention. We’re leaving monitoring protocols in place, automated alerts if Brennan’s name surfaces anywhere in any system.
But our active investigation is concluded. ”