Page 8 of Anders (The Sunburst Pack #2)

Back in his command center, he began running the mark through various databases. He told himself he was just being thorough, that his intensity had nothing to do with the way his wolf paced restlessly whenever he thought about someone hurting her.

The pack comes first , he reminded himself. Everything else is secondary .

But as he worked through the night, his treacherous mind kept returning to that moment in her office. The way she’d leaned toward him. The way her scent had called to him. The way everything in him had yearned to claim her as his mate.

Irrelevant , he thought firmly. She’s either a threat or a victim. Either way, personal feelings have no place in this operation .

His wolf whined in protest, but Anders ignored it.

He had a job to do.

Even if it meant denying what his wolf already knew to be true.

O VER THE NEXT SEVERAL days, Anders developed a new routine. He split his time between the command center and field reconnaissance, carefully timing his movements to avoid direct contact with Etta while maintaining constant surveillance.

The wall of his command center slowly filled with notes and connections as he mapped out her movements. Her interview subjects drew his particular attention.

He sat staring at the list in front of him.

Interview log:

Day 1: Malcolm & Larissa (ranch association)

Day 2: Nick & Sarah (local business)

Day 3: Una (community center)

Day 4: Conall & Quinton (construction company)

The pattern was clear—she was systematically interviewing council members, plus a few other key pack members. All under the guise of community reporting.

Too systematic to be coincidence , he noted. But too obvious for a trained operative .

Anders found himself watching the surveillance feeds more often than strictly necessary.

He told himself he was looking for suspicious behavior, but he couldn’t deny his fascination with her unconscious wolf mannerisms—the way she’d tilt her head to catch a sound, how she’d pause to scent the air before entering or leaving a building.

He kept remembering his thought from that first night: She moves like a wolf who has forgotten she’s a wolf .

The thought still made his chest ache.

On the sixth day of surveillance, he noticed something that made his blood run cold. A small device, barely visible, attached to the underside of a windowsill across from the newspaper office.

Not his equipment.

Unknown surveillance. Time of placement unclear. Could have been placed by her. Could have been watching longer than we’ve been watching her .

Somehow, he doubted she’d been surveilling herself. But possibly she wanted to see who might visit the newspaper office when she wasn’t around.

Anders spent the next forty-eight hours checking his perimeter sensors and reviewing security footage but found no sign of anyone new in town who could have placed the device.

He did, however, discover three more similar devices in strategic locations around town—all with clear sight lines to areas frequented by pack members.

His wolf growled, angry at the thought of someone watching their territory.

Watching his mate.

Not my mate , he reminded himself sharply. Potential security threat .

Especially if she had placed the devices herself.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe she was the threat his logical mind told him she had to be.

No , his inner wolf insisted. There is someone else involved here .

It was getting harder to maintain his focus. Every time he reviewed his own surveillance feeds, he found himself drawn to the way sunlight caught in her hair, how her face lit up when she smiled at interview subjects, the graceful efficiency of her movements.

His wolf yearned to go to her, to claim her, to protect her from whoever had marked her neck and was now watching her. The tactical part of his brain argued that she might be working with them, might be part of whatever organization had placed the surveillance devices.

The conflict was tearing him apart.

Finally, after a week of remote observation and mounting frustration, Anders made a decision.

He would confront her directly about the surveillance equipment. If she was involved, her reaction might tell him something useful. If she wasn’t…

He shut down that line of thinking. Hope was dangerous in security work.

The walk to her office felt longer than usual. Anders cataloged every detail of his surroundings—the position of the morning sun, the direction of the wind, the locations of potential witnesses. All normal preconfrontation protocols, but something about this felt different.

More personal.

Her scent hit him before he reached the door, making his wolf stir restlessly. Sweet and spicy with that underlying note of wild wolf that called to his most primal instincts.

He forced himself to concentrate on his breathing, on maintaining control.

Now that he was here, though, Anders found himself hesitating outside her office. Through the door, he could hear her heartbeat, steady and strong. The soft tap of computer keys. An occasional rustle of paper.

How should he approach this? Direct confrontation might trigger defensive reactions. Too subtle, and he might miss important tells. And there was the mate bond to consider—his wolf’s instincts could interfere with his ability to read her responses accurately.

Analysis paralysis , he thought grimly. Tactical overthinking driven by emotional compromise .

And yet knowing what it was didn’t eliminate its existence.

Anders still didn’t know what to do.