Alliance of Shadows, Book 3: HUNTER

Homeward Bound

Abuelo had actually been awake for nearly ten years, but he'd sworn us to secrecy. He had no desire for the world to know that his existence had already stretched far beyond its natural course. His only wish was to pass on what remained of his power before slipping quietly into afterlife – a path that would lead him back to the arms of his beloved Avalon Ruiz, who passed three hundred years prior.

Peter and Micah were the ones to tell him that Logan had come seeking him out. The news sent a rare spark of life through him, a momentary glimpse of excitement before resignation took hold once more.

The rest of us scattered, ensuring that our movements drew no unnecessary attention to Abuelo’s plan. If Father ever suspected the truth, the consequences would have been severe, thus the secret remained sealed.

It was going to stay that way, too.

After Father's mistake of targeting Logan’s group, Micah heightened security around them. He remained close, ensuring their safety while personally overseeing Logan’s adaptation. There was no doubt that Logan’s transformation—once he received Abuelo’s blood and inherited his power—would need careful guidance.

Micah took it upon himself to speak with Logan’s adopted parents, explaining how we would assist in the process, how we would help him navigate the storm that would inevitably follow.

Needless to say, Father was furious. With nothing more than a few contemplative words, part of his power had been stripped and gifted instead to Peter—an act that struck at the very foundation of his control.

Without an outward hint of remorse, he retaliated the only way he knew how. He sent his eldest children into exile.

Renting a hotel for the night, we stood guard over Logan and his friends while they slept. As my brothers and I talked over our next moves, we agreed—we needed more support.

We knew there were others, outcasts without cause, forced into isolation for reasons beyond their control. The four eldest among us set out before sunrise, seeking as many willing allies as we could find.

It didn't take much convincing.

Sticking to the truth, we told other magic users and Vampires that Logan would try to coax the Grand Alpha into signing our old home back to the Valencia family. He wanted to return it to us—to turn the old Ruby Fang lands back over to the Coven that had originally thrived there.

The Ambassador, Beta Colton, advised that it was a good idea since we seemed genuinely interested in coming back under peaceful terms. Truthfully, we wanted nothing more than a place to call home, a chance to live in harmony with the other races the children described in their innocent, detailed talks of home.

The very next day, Micah received word that over a hundred exiled or Rogue Vampires and underground magic users had agreed to follow us to the Americas. Specifically, we were returning to the small Canadian island known as Newfoundland.

It was more than we expected, and it left Father in a tight spot as he lost nearly eighty percent of his army—an army I had helped build. His influence had always relied on control rather than loyalty, and now, the fractures in his reign had become impossible to ignore.

Micah, knowing my penchant for keeping paperwork clean and concise, enlisted my help in compiling a detailed list of those who would be living under us. Families of Vampires with young children had fled from Father’s rule, choosing to abandon his ways in pursuit of something better. Their decision wasn’t made lightly as walking away meant severing ties, risking retaliation, and embracing an uncertain future in exchange for peace.

Logan was tireless in his task as well. With nothing better to do, Peter decided to help him, quickly becoming absorbed in Logan’s relentless pursuit of answers. In doing so, he ended up meeting Logan’s pack long before the rest of us ever would.

Yet, despite their early connection, Logan remained extraordinarily tight-lipped about his packmates and his adopted family. It wasn’t secrecy born of mistrust—it was something deeper, a guarded instinct to shield those closest to him from outside scrutiny.

On the way to meet the leaders of the pack known as Shadow Storm, we listened intently as Logan finally spoke about Mariana—how she had been ruthlessly abused, how the suffering stripped away everything she had left to fight for. Unable to withstand the weight of rejection from her Mate, she passed only days after his birthday the previous year.

Then he revealed something even more unsettling. Just after turning nine, his Werewolf shift had been triggered—not by natural progression, but by trauma, the physical and emotional scars of what he had endured.

So much was explained about his abilities in that one conversation, far more than we had ever been able to piece together on our own.

Logan’s constant need to learn more had driven him to uncover the truth about the Ruby Fang, Abuelo, and the Rio Roja pack back in Mexico. Yet, despite his efforts, they couldn’t accept him as he was. That rejection sat heavily with him, and in turn, made me hesitant to meet the people who had adopted him.

As the eldest, Micah stepped into his role as head of the family and met with the Grand Alpha. Henry Dane, after hearing each person’s account of what had transpired at the compound, agreed to allow us to use the land as we saw fit. He had listened carefully, weighing every retelling, every detail. The Stone brothers left nothing out—every word spoken to and about the child Henry had adopted was reiterated to the older Wolf, ensuring that Logan’s story was known in full.

Colton Break also spoke on our behalf, explaining how we had sought them out, how we had protected them from Father’s forces in Mexico. His words carried weight, reinforcing that our actions had not been driven by rebellion alone, but by necessity.

After the meeting, Micah relayed an unexpected confirmation—all of the children who had accompanied Logan backed up every detail. Their voices, their testimonies, added further proof to the reality of what we had endured.

Peter was quite taken with the littlest one, a girl with dark skin, pale blond hair, and bright green eyes. She was not his Mate, but she was someone he could talk to freely—someone who offered conversation without expectation or consequence.

Later, he told me she had stepped out of her room the night before we left Mexico, seeking him out as we guarded the hotel. She, like him, used a type of sight called Clairvoyance, a gift that set her apart from the others.

Ember had confided in him that she often felt left out, different in ways the other children couldn’t understand. But Logan didn’t care. He had welcomed her without hesitation, pulling her into his tightly knit circle of friends without a second thought. Still, Ember feared he would tire of her. She was careful not to anger him, unsure of her place despite the effortless way he had included her.

My precociously adorable little brother, ever blunt yet sincere, reassured her with quiet certainty. "If Logan didn’t want you around, he wouldn’t have protected you from our father."

The words soothed her, but the most surprising part of it all was what Peter discovered afterward. Ember had known all along what Logan was. She had simply been too scared to speak up.

With the signed contract of land redistribution in hand, Micah was eager to know whether the stories Father and Wesley told us had been true. To be honest, we all were. The document held more than land—it held answers, proof of whether our past had been built on reality or carefully constructed lies.

As a sign of good faith, the Grand Alpha and his eldest son, Alpha Neil, allowed us temporary use of the old packhouse on the far side of the forest while they finalized the contract. Unwilling to risk outright rejection—whether in our bid to join the Alliance or reclaim our land—we accepted the offer without hesitation.

While we waited, Peter continued meeting with Ember, absorbing everything he could about the locals, their rules, and the standards we’d soon be expected to uphold. It wasn’t done openly, of course—Logan had no knowledge of his efforts.

Not that Ember feared my little brother.

It was later explained that, for up to a few years, we would have to endure a testing period. If we could prove ourselves useful to the Alliance as a whole, we'd be granted a seat at the table. As I saw it, the new patriarch of the family should have been the one to take that seat. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Micah turned down the nomination, likely in favor of making me suffer, or so I assume.

Thus, as I was voted least likely to snap if pushed, I explained that I would only serve as my brother's temporary placeholder. My silent ultimatum was clear, and my eldest brother finally agreed to take the position once it became open to avoid discord among our current standing.

Unable to contain our excitement, we packed up our things and left the old packhouse behind, meeting at the entrance to the cave. It was surreal—being back, standing on familiar ground that was both known and unknown to us.

Micah was the most excited. He amused us with stories of his childhood days on the old lands, speaking as though he could remember them clearly. Yet, I knew beyond a doubt that his memories of our homeland were fragmented, displaced, and confused.

After all, Father had made sure to wipe everyone's minds clean. Even his own children.