Alliance of Shadows, Book 3: HUNTER

Blood-Bound Legacy

The door to my rooms opened again, but I didn’t need to turn from gathering clothes for a shower to know who stood behind me. Each of my brothers carried a distinct scent—one I could recognize instantly, even in a crowded space. The subtle shift in the air told me when Micah adjusted his weight, his stance shifting slightly. I caught the rhythmic tapping of Jerome’s fingers against his leg—a nervous habit I’d long been familiar with—and the quiet bite of Peter’s nails as he chewed at them absentmindedly.

Micah cleared his throat. “Is everything all right, Hunter?”

I pulled out a pair of socks, keeping my focus on the task at hand. “You tell me, brother. Anything you’re hiding that doesn’t need hiding anymore?”

A pause stretched between us. Then, finally: “Dorcas is my Mate.”

Silence settled around the room.

Micah’s voice was quieter when he spoke again, as if saying the words out loud made them heavier. “That’s not all. If Father had known… he would have slaughtered her, along with every child she bore. That would have included my daughter, Andrast, and our youngest brothers.”

Stanley, Vincent, and Peter looked shocked, their eyes darting between Micah and the others as if searching for confirmation. The rest remained unfazed, their expressions unreadable, giving nothing away. Justin stepped forward, his stance firm, his gaze unwavering.

“Most of us knew, Micah,” he said, his voice carrying both understanding and quiet resentment. “We kept quiet because we didn’t want to take away that small sliver of happiness from you. We knew what Nikolai was capable of. That monster would have slit the throat of every other boy Dorcas bore, without hesitation.”

Vincent’s frown deepened, his brow furrowing in thought. “I have a question,” he said slowly, the weight of it settling over the room. “How many of our siblings are actually your children, Micah?”

Micah’s jaw tightened before he exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Only Andrast,” he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur. “I had no choice but to let him claim my child as his own. It was the only way to keep them both alive. Watching from the shadows, staying distant—that was all I could do. If he’d suspected even for a moment, he would have killed them. I had to play it safe. I’m just grateful none of you ever told him.”

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms as frustration bubbled beneath my skin. “We’re not idiots, Micah. We know exactly what he would have done to them.” A sharp breath left me, clearing the lingering tension in my chest. “Moving on before I throw you all out—I spoke to Mother while I was healing.”

Harold stiffened as though struck. “You what?” His voice carried a mix of disbelief and yearning. “How?”

“She told me she was proud of us all,” I said quietly, the memory settling deep in my bones. “That she regretted leaving us in the hands of that tyrant. She was exactly as I remembered her. Long brown hair, clear eyes, a warm smile. She wore the same dress she was buried in.” My voice softened as the image of her lingered, haunting but comforting all the same.

Peter sobbed dryly, dragging his fingers through his hair as if trying to steady himself. “Did she say anything?” he asked, his voice raw.

“Just that Nikolai’s in Limbo,” I replied, watching the weight of my words settle over them. “She said the Gods punished him with suffering ten thousand times the damage he inflicted in life.”

Harold snorted, a sharp laugh breaking the tension. “Eternity in Limbo, huh? Good. Let the bastard have his due. He stole too many innocent souls from this world for no reason, so why should we care what happens to him now? He and his deranged Advisor nearly killed Hunter.”

A chuckle escaped me, and I nodded in agreement.

Micah frowned, his arms crossing over his chest. “Why aren’t you guys all over me for finding and managing to keep my Mate alive for the last thirteen years?”

Stanley smirked, shaking his head. “Because we don’t give a solid s**t about that, Micah,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. “But, hey, all the power to you. We won’t stand in your way when it comes to that because every single one of us has had our lovers, girlfriends, and Mates stolen in acts of sheer stupidity.”

Justin, standing a little apart, nodded. “I’m more worried that Andrast has picked up on several things regarding Nikolai’s behavior,” he said, his voice heavy with concern.

It was a silent, mutual agreement between the eight of us—we would no longer refer to that man as our father. He sired us, yes, but he never cared enough to see the truth. The Witch’s hex only took root because he kept us from our Mates, denying us the very bonds that could have protected us. Rather than guiding us, rather than offering the love and wisdom a father should, he shattered any illusion that he had ever cared for his children.

I closed my eyes, reaching out to Logan. ‘Are you there?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied, his voice casual but attentive. ‘What’s up? I’m just hanging with the Howlers. Maria is on her way, so you might have just enough time to hunt if you need to.’

‘Oh joy,’ I muttered, already dreading the rush. ‘Any chance you can do your cousin a favor and delay her until I’ve had a shower? I haven’t fed yet.’

‘Not good.’ Logan sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but she left almost as soon as Paul got back with Kayleen. They mentioned you waking up, and she was out of our packhouse faster than a bat outta hell, man.’

Thanking him, I slipped into the shower, letting the hot water run over my skin. To my surprise, I wasn’t nearly as dirty as I expected after nearly two years of sleeping off the damage my body took during the war. Confused, I considered the possibilities. If it had come down to it, my brothers would have cleaned me up eventually—but I was far too clean for that to be the explanation.

‘Micah, who was brazen enough to strip and wash my body while I slept?’ I asked telepathically, irritation tinged with curiosity.

He laughed through the link, unbothered. ‘Believe it or not, Maria and that little girl you befriended. She said it was unhygienic, so she decided to wash you regularly.’

Well, damn. Had my near-death experience stirred that much concern?

The thought wasn’t unwelcome, but it sent my mind spinning. Maria had seen me—tended to me—even while I was comatose. She was my Mate, and that realization carried its own weight. Knowing she had suffered in the wake of my absence didn’t help my mood as I stepped under the steaming spray from the rainfall shower head.

Not to mention, my eldest brother would have a field day putting me in my place. He was the one who taught us right from wrong while our father schemed, forever searching for ways to increase his power.

I groaned as I worked the shampoo through my hair, massaging my scalp with slow, deliberate movements. The heat of the water loosened the lingering tension in my muscles, but it couldn’t erase the weight pressing on my mind. Rinsing the suds away, I reached for the towel hanging just beyond the curtain. As I stepped out of the shower and wiped the condensation from the mirror, a small smile tugged at my lips.

There were only so many hours in the day, and I refused to let them slip away now. She was giving me a fighting chance—a chance to prove that I would do whatever it took to keep her happy.

Moving back into my room, I sighed, rubbing the towel through my damp hair.

“Something on your mind, little brother?”

I turned to see Justin glaring at me—something he had never done before. The sheer intensity of his expression left me momentarily stunned. He had never looked at me this way, never let frustration or resentment seep through.

“No,” I replied carefully, keeping my tone neutral. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m a little crunched for time.”

“Really?” His voice was sharp, edged with something deeper. “Going to see your Mate or mine?”

His Mate? I hadn’t even known he’d found her.

“On my honour as a Valencia, I would never do something as reckless as being alone with one of my brothers’ Mates without permission,” I said, my expression tightening with confusion. “Please, make me understand.”

Justin’s glare darkened as he let out a quiet, bitter snarl. “She talks about you all the damn time, and I don’t like it. Hunter this, Hunter that. But does she ever talk about me? No! Why do you have all the luck in the family?”

“Justin, I have no idea what’s going on, I swear.” His tone rattled me. It wasn’t just frustration—it was something dangerously close to hatred. The way he was shouting made my stomach twist. Had my brother truly lost his mind?

Without another word, he spun on his heel and stormed out of my rooms, his snarl lingering like a curse in the air long after he was gone.

I stood frozen, replaying his words, searching for something that made sense. What had I done to earn his hostility? His Mate had died two years after he found her, and I knew that kind of grief could warp even the strongest minds. But this? This felt different.

Still, I was coming up blank. There was nothing in my memory that explained why he was this angry with me.