Revelations (Land of Wolves #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Iwas never foolish enough to believe starvation would be fun, but I sure didn’t anticipate it being this damn hard.

My mouth waters as I eye the food in Daniel’s hands, the ache in my abdomen growing. He said this would be challenging, but I thought he was exaggerating. I’ve broken too many bones to keep track of, have sprained and torn more muscles than I can count, and was even stabbed once. I survived.

But this hunger has me questioning my sanity.

Daniel frowns, his full, graying eyebrows pulling inward.

Concern looks out of place on his otherwise severe face.

Daniel has been working for HPAW longer than I’ve been alive, and the years here have hardened him.

He may be almost fifty, but he’s more frightening than most of the combat-ready thirty-year-olds who work here.

He looks me up and down, his frown deepening. He pities me. I’m so hungry, I’m beginning to pity myself.

“I know you’re hungry, Evelyn,” he starts, “but this is a necessary evil.”

I clear my throat, sitting up in bed. “I understand.”

My thin, government-issued sheets don’t offer much warmth, but I run hot, so it doesn’t bother me.

The air vent directly above my bed does, though.

It blows frigid air against me all night long, keeping me awake.

My metal bedframe is firmly anchored to the ground, too, so there’s no hope of escaping the vent.

Daniel steps inside my room, letting the heavy, metal door swing shut behind him. It slams, and there’s a faint click as the lock engages. He’ll have to swipe his keycard to leave.

I toss my legs over the side of the bed, planting my sock-covered feet against the cement ground. I eye my sleep pants, absentmindedly flicking away a stray dark hair. I had it chopped just above my shoulders for this mission. The shorter length is easier to deal with.

Daniel gifted me a rug for my fourteenth birthday, and I drag my toes over the deep-purple fibers as I meet his gray eyes.

This is a necessary evil. I understand that, but I’m still teetering on the edge of starvation-induced madness. I’m milliseconds away from lunging for Daniel, taking him to the ground and snatching that food from his hands.

Tucked underneath his arm is a thin manila folder. Nothing positive ever comes from those folders.

“What is it this time?” I ask, gesturing toward it.

Daniel exhales, adjusting his stance and freeing up a hand so he can toss the folder at me. It lands on the end of my bed, just out of reach. My bones feel like they’re rubbing together as I lean sideways, snatching it up.

I skim the first few pages. “Shit.” I sigh, wincing. Another family murdered. There are several photographs, all of them graphic. Two adults, two children. Each of them violently ripped apart by the shifters.

Along with the images is a detailed medical report. I don’t read it. I don’t need to. The victims are torn to shreds. Their cause of death isn’t much of a mystery.

“I assume they lived on the border,” I say.

Daniel hums an affirmative.

“Has this been shared?” I continue. “Surely, this is enough proof of violence for other leaders to take action.”

Daniel sucks his cheeks into his mouth, shaking his head. “They don’t wish to get involved.”

I don’t understand why. America may be the only country that shares a land border with the shifters, but shifters are a threat to all humans. We need help. The shifters have been infringing on our lands, pushing and pushing. They want us gone.

This murdered family is proof enough of what happens when we get in their way.

I set the folder aside, my stomach grumbling. Daniel cracks a rare sympathetic smile.

“It won’t be long now,” he says. He’s been saying that for days. “Our timing is everything.”

I nod, absentmindedly stroking the marking on the back of my hand. The color has darkened with age, the once intricate white design now a deep red. I hate it, and I hate even more what the mark stands for.

I was told as a child to keep it hidden. My parents insisted that the marking was dangerous, and they constantly hid it underneath a second-skin covering. The flesh-covered bandage was seamless, hiding all evidence of my curse.

Then I saw it on the news.

The way the delicate floral design travels up my middle two fingers before spreading across the back of my right hand is impossible to mistake. The people on the television had an exact drawing of it.

Only shifters have these markings. Usually.

I’m an unfortunate exception. Shifters typically revere their markings, cherishing the connection to their fated mate.

HPAW managed to get their hands on a drawing of a future shifter alpha’s marking.

A child with a wolf so dominant that he’s set to lead the largest pack once he comes of age. The future Alpha Knox.

His marking was being shared amongst the smaller shifter packs. They were looking for his match. Me. I draw in an even breath, digging my thumbnail into my flesh. I wish I could cut the marking off. I’m so fucking unlucky.

Seven-year-old me was entranced with the idea of having a fated mate. How utterly romantic. I was an idiot.

Daniel finally hands over the single warmed potato he’s been cleared to give me. Potatoes are the only food I’ve been permitted to eat, and I’ve very quickly grown sick of them. I shove the bland vegetable into my mouth in the blink of an eye.

It’s a miracle HPAW intercepted me before I found my way into the shifter domain, my childhood delusions of true love urging me to sneak into the empty, forested lands separating our territories. I thought I’d find my mate. Most likely, I would’ve been eaten alive.

The shifters retreated into Canada after outing their true nature, officially separating themselves from humankind. It didn’t take long for the Canadian government to fall, the once-proud country deteriorated into nothing.

The territories have since been divided into packs, each one led by an alpha.

The Human Protection Against Wolves organization was quick to form. They protect our borders, ensuring humans are safe from the vicious predators. They saved my life. They gave me purpose.

I pick at my marking. My job is to infiltrate and dismantle the shifter organization from within. It’s said that the shifters cherish their mates, but I’m human. There’s no telling how my mate and his pack will react to me.

Exposing myself to them is a risk I’m willing to take, though.

I swallow, my throat dry. “Will you leave my ribs alone?”

Daniel grimaces, the action answer enough.

I understand why my injuries need to be real, but injured ribs take forever to heal. I’ve been training for this day as long as I can remember, and I’ve never gotten used to the painful snap of a rib cracking.

HPAW has taught me how to fight and defend myself, but I need to appear weak.

It should be easy enough to do. I’ve always had a lean frame, and HPAW’s decision to periodically starve me over the past several months has given me a borderline gaunt look. It’s all part of the plan.

My muscles have deteriorated, removing all evidence of the years of combat training I’ve undergone. I won’t need it. Even at peak physical form, I don’t stand a chance against the shifters.

The alpha, my mate, must think I’m a victim, captured and tortured by a group of misfit humans because of my marking.

He’ll feel inclined to believe me because I’m his mate, and once I’ve gathered all the necessary information regarding him and his pack, I’ll slit his throat. It’s the easiest way to kill a shifter.

I’ll kill the alpha just as his people killed my parents, ripping them to shreds when they traveled into the shifter territory searching for me.

Daniel doesn’t like it when I say this, but I’m glad they’re dead. My parents were shifter sympathizers, and I suspect they were eventually planning to deliver me to the violent beasts. There’s no other reason for them to have kept my mark hidden, forcing me to wear bandages over the stained skin.

“Approval came through for your sedation,” Daniel says.

“I had to pull some strings, but they agreed to drug you for transport. They’re going to sprain your shoulder, bruise your ribs, and break your collarbone.

The blood we’ve been collecting from you has been soaked into the dress, and we’ll mat the hair along the left side of your head. ”

Daniel speaks through a clenched jaw as he describes the extent of the injuries I’ll sustain.

I’m too relieved that leadership approved my sedation to care.

They want me to experience the trauma firsthand, making my story that much more believable.

Daniel’s been working hard to change their minds.

He has been my primary caretaker since I arrived at the HPAW facility, and he has grown protective over the years.

“You’ll be tied to the bed in the cabin, your marked hand facing outward,” Daniel continues.

“The shifters should be arriving that night. The pair has been visiting the cabin every month. They don’t deviate.

We’ll make sure to have your mark be the first thing they see, though, lest they decide to kill first and ask questions later. ”

My lip curls at the mention of my marking. I hate acknowledging its existence.

I blow out a slow breath. “And I’ll tell the shifters I’ve been hiding my mark out of fear of being judged, but somebody must’ve noticed the second skin. I was grabbed on my way home from work, and I woke up alone in the cabin. I don’t know how or who brought me there.”

I’ve memorized every detail of our plan. I won’t disappoint.

We’ve been perfecting my lies for years, to the point that I can confidently pass a lie detector test. Daniel insists it won’t come to that, the shifters foolish in their blind trust of mates, but you can never be too prepared.

“I’m so proud of you, Evelyn,” Daniel says, leaning against the locked door.

I hold back a smile. This isn’t easy, but it’s a small price to pay to save the lives of millions of humans.

The shifters are natural predators, and it’s only a matter of time before they attack.

HPAW suspects it’s coming soon. The frequency of border attacks has ratcheted up significantly, and while we don’t have much insight into what’s happening on shifter lands, HPAW has spotted movement.

The alphas are relocating soldiers, preparing for war.

It doesn’t matter that the shifters often walk around in forms identical to humans. Their human traits will never outweigh their animal ones. They’re bloodthirsty.

I glance at my hand. “I hope we aren’t putting too much faith in the mate bond.”

HPAW believes the alpha will fall in love with me, the bond bringing us together in ways I can’t even begin to conceptualize. It’s a romantic idea, but I’m not sure how much I believe it.

“The mate bond is everything to shifters,” Daniel says.

“Alpha Knox will bend over backward for you, and I doubt it’ll be long before he’s willingly and openly sharing with you every bit of information we need to bring his pack down.

” Daniel grins, his teeth on full display.

“We’ll have armed men at the meeting spot twenty-four-seven, but there’s no rush.

Wait until you have everything you need. ”

I nod, swallowing the last of my food and lying back on my bed. My head aches, likely due to dehydration. I’m being given water, but not enough.

I’m our best chance of bringing down the shifters. I won’t disappoint.