Page 30 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)
E TTA FLED DEEPER INTO the wilderness beyond Sunburst territory.
Her lungs burned with exertion, but she couldn’t stop—not when every shadow seemed to hold enemies, not when her own mind was the most dangerous terrain of all.
Keep moving, she whispered to herself, her voice ragged from thirst. They’ll find you if you stop.
Even as she spoke, Etta wasn’t entirely certain who they were anymore.
The Chimera operatives hunting their escaped asset? The Sunburst Pack she’d unwittingly betrayed? Or the fragments of herself, splintered and broken, fighting for dominance inside her skull?
Her feet followed game trails instinctively, movements alternating between the methodical precision of her intelligence training and the panicked scramble of a cornered animal.
One moment she was carefully covering her tracks, erasing evidence of her passage; the next, she was careening through desert underbrush, heedless of the broken trail she left behind.
A sharp pain lanced through her temples, and Etta stumbled, catching herself against the rough bark of a tree. A scent like gin filled her nostrils.
But above that, she could smell the scent of pine trees, leading her up, back into the forest, and triggering another cascade of memories.
Her father’s strong hands lifting her onto his shoulders. Smell that? That’s pine resin. If you’re ever lost in the forest, follow the scent of pine. It will lead you home.
Her mother laughing, white-blonde hair catching the sunlight. She’s barely four! Don’t fill her head with survival tactics just yet.
Never too early to learn. The Silverleaf Pack has survived because we respect the old ways…
The memory dissolved as a spasm of pain shot through Etta’s body. She doubled over, a hoarse cry escaping her lips as her fingernails lengthened into claws, then retracted, then lengthened again—her body caught in a partial shift she couldn’t control.
Stop, she gasped, pressing her forehead against the cool bark. Please stop.
But the suppression chemicals were failing faster now, their artificial barriers crumbling under the pressure of her awakening wolf.
Each new memory that returned seemed to accelerate the process, her true nature fighting its way back to the surface after decades of enforced dormancy.
When the spasm passed, Etta pushed herself upright, tasting blood where she’d bitten her lip. She needed shelter, somewhere to hide while her body fought this internal war. Somewhere she could think without fear of capture.
The terrain sloped upward, and Etta followed it on instinct, her lupine senses seeking higher ground. Better visibility. Better defense. The wolf in her, growing stronger by the hour, knew what to do even if she didn’t.
As the sun climbed higher, casting dappled shadows through the forest, something about the rocky outcropping ahead tugged at her awareness. A sense of familiarity that wasn’t just déjà vu.
She’d been here before.
Not as Etta Barone, journalist. Not even as the person who’d lived in the Montana house with human parents —agents of Chimera assigned to maintain her cover until she was old enough for deployment.
No. She’d been here as Asset E5, gathering intelligence on the Sunburst Pack.
Approaching the outcropping cautiously, Etta scanned the area.
Nothing seemed out of place—just rocks, scrub brush, the occasional twisted juniper growing stubbornly in the harsh environment.
But her fingers traced the contours of the largest boulder with unexpected certainty, finding a narrow crevice that human eyes might overlook.
Inside, wrapped in waterproof material, was a small black case.
I don’t remember this, she whispered, even as her hands moved with practiced efficiency to retrieve it. I don’t remember putting this here.
But she had. During one of her blackouts, when the programming had taken over, when Etta the journalist had receded and Asset E5 had emerged to do the Chimera Program’s bidding.
The case opened with a soft click, revealing a compact surveillance setup and a notebook filled with her precise handwriting. Diagrams of the Old Packhouse. Guard rotations. Notes on pack dynamics. Security vulnerabilities.
A knife twisted in Etta’s gut as she turned the pages.
She’d done this. Methodically, comprehensively, she’d mapped out every weakness the Sunburst Pack had. Given Chimera everything they needed to destroy an entire community.
No. Her voice cracked with horror. No, no, no.
The notebook trembled in her hands. So thorough. So detailed. Pages and pages of information she had no memory of gathering. A catalog of betrayal written in her own hand.
With a strangled cry, Etta tore the first page, then the next, the ripping sound obscenely loud in the quiet. Her claws extended again, shredding the paper more efficiently as rage and shame poured through her.
Compliance required , a cold voice whispered in her mind. Asset will cease destruction of intelligence materials .
The command stopped her hands mid-motion. Her arms began to shake with the effort of resistance, caught between programming and free will.
I am not your asset, Etta snarled through clenched teeth. Not anymore.
Compliance is not optional. Asset will —
I said NO! She tore another page, forcing her muscles to obey her will rather than their embedded commands. Each shred was a small victory, a reclaiming of self.
By the time she finished, Etta was panting from exertion, surrounded by scraps of paper that fluttered in the gentle breeze. The surveillance equipment remained, and she stared at it with hatred and confusion.
What should she do with it? Destroy it? It might contain valuable information about Chimera, about what they’d done to her—to others like her.
A sudden warmth bloomed in her chest, unexpected and powerful. The mate bond, flaring to life after hours of silence. For a moment, Etta felt Anders as clearly as if he stood beside her—his determination, his relief at sensing her, his unwavering focus on finding her.
She grasped at the connection desperately.
The device at her neck activated with a vicious pulse, cutting off the thought with white-hot agony. Etta screamed, dropping to her knees as electricity surged through her nervous system, the bond abruptly severed.
When her vision cleared, she was curled in a fetal position on the rocky ground, the taste of dirt and blood in her mouth. The sun had moved in the sky—minutes or hours lost to pain.
And the bond was gone. Cold, empty silence where Anders’s presence had been.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her, but Etta pushed herself shakily to her feet. She couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t risk Chimera retrieving their equipment, couldn’t allow the device on her neck to give away her position.
Gathering the surveillance gear, she used rocks to smash it beyond repair, ensuring no signals could be transmitted. Then she continued onward, each step a deliberate choice to keep moving, to stay free despite the programming still fighting for control.
The sun was high in the sky when Etta heard them—the soft crunch of boots on forest debris, the subtle click of weapons being readied. Her heightened senses picked out three distinct heartbeats, approaching in a standard search pattern.
Chimera operatives. Hunting their escaped asset.
She pressed herself against the trunk of a pine, trying to control her breathing as they drew closer.
They moved with military precision, communicating through hand signals rather than words.
Each wore civilian hiking gear, but Etta recognized the bulge of tactical vests beneath their jackets, the too careful way they scanned their surroundings.
E5’s tracker shows she passed through this area, one finally murmured, his voice barely audible even to Etta’s enhanced hearing. Signal is intermittent but consistent with the neural interface’s decay pattern.
Spread out, another responded. She can’t have gone far in this condition. Dr. Mercer said the interface failure would cause progressive deterioration.
Etta’s hand went to the back of her neck, where the device sat embedded in her flesh like a parasite. The doctor hadn’t been lying. Without the chemical suppression to stabilize it, the interface was breaking down—and taking her with it.
She had to keep moving, had to get away before the deterioration progressed too far. But with three trained operatives between her and escape, options were limited.
The mate bond fluttered weakly in her chest, struggling to reestablish itself despite the device’s interference. Etta focused on it, drawing strength from even this tenuous connection.
One of the operatives approached her position, his gaze sweeping past her hiding place. Etta held her breath, pressing impossibly closer to the tree, praying her scent wouldn’t give her away.
He paused, head tilting in a way that reminded her painfully of Anders. Then he turned directly toward her, hand moving to the weapon at his hip.
I have movement, he said quietly. Possible visual on E5.
Etta didn’t wait for the others to respond. She burst from her hiding place, barreling directly into the unprepared operative. Her partially shifted form gave her enough strength to knock him backward, his weapon discharging harmlessly into the air as they tumbled to the ground.
Somewhere in her mind, Asset E5’s training activated, guiding her movements with cold precision.
She struck the operative’s wrist against a rock, forcing him to drop the weapon, then delivered a precise blow to his solar plexus that left him gasping for air.
Shouts from the other operatives spurred her into motion. Etta snatched up the fallen weapon—a specialized tranquilizer gun loaded with darts designed for enhanced subjects—and ran, zigzagging through the trees to make herself a harder target.