Movement, west side,a voice called softly through the darkness, professional tension underlying the calm report.
Nadine continued forward, letting herself be silhouetted against the horizon for just long enough to allow someone to confirm her identity.Then she dropped behind a concrete barrier, as if finally recognizing her error.
Too late, of course.Gregory’s people were already closing in, moving with the coordinated precision of a team that had worked together for years.She could hear their approach—boot steps on gravel, the subtle whisper of military gear, hand signals passed between positions.
When the tranquilizer dart hit her shoulder, she managed genuine surprise at the sharp sting of penetration.She’d expected capture but not chemical restraint.Gregory generally preferred psychological control to physical coercion, at least with family.
Apparently, she no longer qualified as family.
The drug worked quickly—specialized formulation designed for shifter physiology, probably based on Chimera’s research.Her vision blurred as consciousness slipped away, the last thing she saw being boots approaching her position with military precision.
This better workwas her final coherent thought before darkness claimed her.
NADINE’S SKULL THROBBED FROMwhatever cocktail they’d used to keep her unconscious, but her mind felt sharp—dangerously so.
Either they’d miscalculated the dosage, or they wanted her alert for what came next.
She kept her eyes closed, testing her restraints without making any obvious movements.Zip ties around her wrists, secured to metal.
The acrid smell of machine oil and abandonment filled her nostrils, undercut by something clinical.Medical equipment hummed nearby, ventilation cycled overhead, and distant voices conducted business in other parts of the building.
And underneath it all, growing stronger as her awareness returned—Gregory’s scent.
I know you’re awake.
His voice carried the same patient tone from countless training sessions but stripped of warmth.
This was Vincent’s enforcer speaking, not the man who’d taught her to read animal tracks and treat silver poisoning.
She opened her eyes.
Gregory sat ten feet away, studying her with analytical interest.He was still imposing—broad shoulders, dark eyes that revealed nothing.He looked exactly like the father she remembered, making his deception somehow worse.
Hello, Dad.Her voice emerged steady despite the churning in her chest.You’re looking well for a corpse.
His smile could have cut glass.You found the storage unit.I wondered how long it would take.
Nadine’s throat tightened.Five days.Would’ve been faster if I hadn’t wasted time grieving.She forced herself to meet his gaze directly.How did you do it?The blood, the scene—I followed your scent trail for miles.I saw where you died.
Gregory’s smile was cold, clinical.You saw what I wanted you to see.What my inside source helped me create.
Inside source?
Gregory shook his head.All that training, all those years teaching you to see patterns, and you missed the most obvious one.
Of course I knew you were working with someone in the Sunburst Pack.Someone with access to—
To the twins’ personal belongings.Their clothing, their grooming items.Gregory stood and began pacing.Amazing what you can accomplish with a few hairs from a brush, fabric that’s absorbed someone’s natural scent over days of wear.
You planted their scents at the scene.
Planted and enhanced them, actually.Synthetic amplification of natural pheromones—not quite as sophisticated as our neural interface technology, but effective for creating false trails.He gestured casually, as if discussing the weather.A shirt rubbed against trees along the escape route.Hair samples scattered at strategic points.Blood mixed with their scent signatures to create the impression of a coordinated hunt.
That’s impossible.I would have detected artificial scents—
Would you?When you were grief-stricken, desperate for answers, already primed to suspect the new Sunburst leadership?Gregory’s voice carried that patient, instructional tone she remembered from training sessions.The mind sees what it expects to see, especially when emotions are running high.
Nadine’s hands clenched into fists, fury building at how completely she’d been manipulated.Who helped you?Which pack member sold out their own people?
