Alliance of Shadows, Book 3: HUNTER

The Cost of Distraction

Paul spoke again, his voice pulling me back into the conversation.

"We were all there for him the day she took her last breath, too. It was the first time I didn't know what to do, so I sent the younger girls in first, and he broke." He paused, his expression shadowed with something heavier than regret—an old wound that still ached despite the years. "My best friend would have slipped into darkness if he didn't have the people he did in his corner. I'm actually glad he found his family in Mexico, but it pissed me off that he was treated like trash. Kind of grateful to you and the other Vampires, though. I mean, it was nice of you to honor my father like you did."

"He fought a foe—"

"No, he didn't. I lied to him when I said that." Paul's jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his face before he exhaled sharply. "I knew that Logan would have worked himself to death if he knew that Austin killed my father on purpose. Dad was one of the people in the pack actively trying to help Mariana and Logan, so he was on Austin's hit list from the start. When they crossed paths on that field, Austin murdered my dad in cold blood."

I smirked, watching him closely. "You do realize that he knew the truth all along, right? He's far from stupid."

"I know." Paul let out a hollow chuckle, shaking his head at the memory. "The day he visited Sammy, he challenged me for lying to him. I didn't have the heart to face him in a fight, not after what happened. I didn't want to lose my best friend, so I admitted my wrong, and he forgave me just like that."

His words lingered in the cooling night air, filled with the weight of hard truths and long-buried grief.

He grinned, his expression easy but carrying a hint of knowing amusement. "You know, it's really easy to talk to you about this stuff."

His stance shifted slightly as he gestured toward the territory behind him. "By the way, the Wolf that nudged me was my older brother, Gavin. He's a Lead, but he doesn't mind helping train the rest of us when he’s got downtime." His tone was casual, but there was an underlying respect when he spoke about his brother.

The air around us felt heavier now, the Warrior’s housing area looming in the distance. Even without stepping inside, I could sense the weight of discipline and expectation carried by those who lived there—Wolves who spent their days honing their skills, preparing for battles that could come without warning.

Paul chuckled, shaking his head. "So I'll leave you to whatever death wish you got, man. Good freaking luck with her, cause Maria is one of the moodiest people I know."

"I see," I replied, my voice neutral but my thoughts already shifting toward what lay ahead. "Well, you have my thanks for getting me this far. I'll find my way from here, Paul."

I conjured Maria’s image in my head and teleported directly to her house. The front step had a small wrought iron table and a few chairs, their surfaces worn from years of exposure to the elements. Shadows stretched long beneath the soft glow of the porch light, casting shifting patterns against the walls.

Moving around to the back of the house, I caught her scent as I passed one of the windows and stopped. It was unmistakable—a mixture of earthy salt water combined with faint traces of wildflowers was something uniquely Maria. The familiarity of it stirred something instinctual, a subtle reminder of the presence awaiting me inside.

When I looked inside, she was there.

Completely unaware of my presence, she sat cross-legged on her bed, lost in whatever song played through her MP3 player. Her fingers tapped absently against the sheets, following the rhythm, a rare moment of peace reflected in the relaxed set of her shoulders.

Knowing I could potentially get hurt for it, I teleported into her room anyway.

Frankly, what harm could it really do? I just wanted to talk to her.

The soft hum of static filled the air as I materialized beside her. Touching the top of her knee, I watched as she stiffened in surprise before yanking the earphones off her head.

Glaring daggers at me, she seethed angrily, “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“I brought your jacket,” I replied, holding out the coat. “You forgot it at the manor.”

Grabbing it with a sharp tug, she snapped out the words, “You've done it, now leave!”

The door opened, revealing a woman who could pass for an older version of Maria. Her striking resemblance was undeniable—the same strong features, the same sharp intensity in her gaze. As she turned fully to face me, recognition flickered in her expression, followed immediately by a gasp as she realized who and what I was.

Her eyes darkened slightly, a shift in her energy that sent a ripple through the air. The very atmosphere seemed to sharpen around us, crackling with the force of her power, an unspoken warning that I was treading dangerous ground.

I pulled out the medallion, watching her dark cheeks pale considerably. The reaction was instant, fear flashing across her eyes before she managed to contain it. “I wanted to ask about this. If you give me a moment of your time, I will gladly leave your home without fuss.”

A tense silence stretched between us. Her lips parted slightly, as if considering her response, but hesitation stalled her words.

Fear flickered once more in her dark eyes. “Are you here to repeat history?”

“Not at all, my Lady.” I said, keeping my voice calm, measured. Slowly, I handed her the medallion, careful to avoid getting too close, aware that even the smallest misstep could change the course of this interaction. I was in the presence of two powerful women who could roast me to ash and not be bothered to clean the mess.

Her mother stared at me in awe. "If you're not here to kill us, what do you want? Now that you know about our heritage, what's stopping you from harming my daughter and I?"

“The day that I met Maria, I knew she was my Mate. However, things have been complicated, for lack of a better word. She's a little too young right now, but I am patient.”

“What do you mean?” Her face was a mask of worry and fear, her expression tightening as she walked over to her daughter’s bed and sat down. “I don’t understand what you are trying to say.”

I sighed, trying to refocus my thoughts. My perfect articulation had vanished, and now I was rambling. “I'm not good at this, I'm sorry. Look, I want Maria in my life. I have waited much too long for her to be born, and I'm admittedly afraid to lose her.”

Her posture stiffened slightly at my admission, though her grip on the edge of the mattress remained steady. The air between us was heavy with unspoken tension, her unreadable gaze locked onto mine, searching for something—assurance, sincerity, perhaps even truth beyond the words I had managed to string together.

I wanted to tell them that Maria was the reborn daughter of the woman who cursed us, but I knew they probably wouldn't believe me. However, I had to say something to appease their hostility toward me.

“My brothers and I are not my father. We cherish our friends and family, and we don't hurt those who don't deserve it. We believe that your people, the Breakwater Coven, deserve to be protected,” I told them.

“If it wasn't for Logan, you would still be in Mexico,” Maria mumbled, crossing her arms as she leaned slightly toward her mother. Her stance was defensive, her shoulders tight with barely restrained frustration.

“Maria, let it speak,” her mother commented darkly, gaze flicking toward me with disapproval.

It? Damn, she just hurt my ego.

Maria growled, shaking her head before exhaling sharply, her fingers twitching at her sides as she fought against her rising irritation. “Hunter, would you please tell my mother that you’re one of the good guys.”

"Certainly, once you admit to being my Mate," I replied, my tone laced with a knowing edge.

Maria growled in exasperation, throwing her hands up before pressing them against her temples as if physically warding off my words. “I already said that I can’t be your Mate. Get over it and go home!”

Her mother’s jaw dropped, her lips parting slightly in silent disbelief before she slowly shifted her gaze back to me. When she realized I had not moved from where I was standing, her expression hardened again, suspicion flickering in her dark eyes. She straightened, her spine rigid as she studied me more closely, measuring my resolve. “I never thought I would see the day that your kind kept your cool when confronted.”

I sighed, the weight of centuries pressing against me. “Nearly three centuries ago, my father started killing anyone we got close to after the Witch hexed us. I have waited centuries for my Mate, and I will wait centuries more if I must.”

Before she could say anything else, I teleported out of the house.

Distracted by my tedious thoughts, I didn't notice my surroundings until I looked up from the ground. The realization struck hard—nothing looked familiar. Recognizing nothing, it became clear that I was on foreign ground.

Trying not to let my overactive mind get to me, I forced myself to take in my surroundings. My eyes scanned the unfamiliar terrain, searching for something—anything—that might ground me in place. That was when a little girl crossed my path, her small form moving with unhurried steps.

Gasping, I grimaced down at the dart lodged in my chest. A wave of dizziness clouded my vision, the edges of my world darkening. From one heartbeat to the next, my world went black.