Twenty minutes later, Conall drove into the desert night, following the faint psychic echo of a severed mate bond.Behind him, Sunburst’s lights faded into memory.
The desert stretched endlessly ahead, holding uncertainty, danger, and the woman who’d become more important than his own survival.Somewhere in that darkness, the war for the shifter community’s survival would be decided by two people who’d found each other despite every reason their connection shouldn’t exist.
The mate bond tugged weakly—a distant star in the darkness.She was out there, preparing to face the man who’d created her as a weapon and decided she was too dangerous to live.
But she wasn’t going to face him alone.
Conall was going to make sure they both survived to see what came next.
CHAPTER 22
THE ABANDONED MINING FACILITYsquatted against the New Mexico horizon like a concrete tumor, all harsh angles and rusted metal that spoke of industrial dreams long dead.
Nadine crouched behind a cluster of sagebrush, studying the structure through night-vision binoculars.
Three vehicles parked in a defensive perimeter.Guard positions that spoke of military training.And underneath it all, threading through the metallic tang of old machinery and cooling sand, the scent she’d been tracking for eighteen hours.
Gregory.
The familiar mixture of leather and gun oil, cigarettes and the particular brand of aftershave he’d worn since she was seven years old.
Alive.Real.
The man who’d raised her, trained her, shaped her into the weapon she’d become—and then used that weapon against innocent people through lies and manipulation.
Her father.Her protector.
Her greatest enemy.
Nadine lowered the binoculars, checking her gear one final time with the methodical precision Gregory himself had taught her.
Glock 19 loaded with silver rounds, spare magazines positioned for quick access, knife secured against her thigh.The tools of her trade, selected and maintained according to lessons learned at the knee of a man who’d apparently been playing a deeper game than she’d ever imagined.
Always have an exit strategy.Always know more about the battlefield than your enemy knows about you.
His voice echoed in her memory, patient and instructive, carrying the same tone he’d used to teach her everything from field medicine to advanced surveillance techniques.
Had he known, even then, that she might someday use those skills against him?
The mate bond tugged weakly at her consciousness—Conall’s desperate attempts to reach her through their connection despite the barriers she’d erected.
Each pulse of contact felt like touching a live wire, sending pain through her chest that had nothing to do with physical injury.She’d closed the bond to protect him, to keep him from tracking her into this trap, but the separation felt like losing a vital organ.
Personal complications later.Mission first.
Movement caught her attention—a figure emerging from the main building, checking the perimeter with casual efficiency.Professional bearing, tactical gear, the kind of alertness that marked former military.Gregory’s type of recruit.She counted at least four operatives visible, probably more inside the facility.
Terrible odds for a frontal assault.But she hadn’t come here to fight her way through Gregory’s security team.
She’d come because she knew him.Knew his patterns, his pride, his need to handle certain matters personally.And eliminating his daughter—cleaning up the loose end she represented—was exactly the kind of task he’d never delegate to subordinates.
All she had to do was let herself be caught.
Nadine circled the facility with patient stealth, mapping guard positions and escape routes out of habit rather than necessity.The eastern approach offered the best infiltration point—minimal cover but predictable patrol patterns.A competent operative could slip past the perimeter undetected.
She deliberately chose the western approach instead.
Her boots crunched against loose gravel as she moved toward the facility’s main entrance, making just enough noise to alert the sentries without seeming completely careless.The trick was appearing sloppy rather than obvious—the kind of mistake an emotionally compromised daughter might make when confronting her traitorous father.
