Page 2 of Conall (The Sunburst Pack #3)

N ADINE T ORRANCE YANKED THE dart from Conall Stewart’s shoulder with more force than necessary, a small part of her hoping it would hurt.

But the Sunburst wolf was already too far gone, his eyes glassy as the powerful tranquilizer worked through his system.

Stay with me, you bastard, she muttered, slapping his face. The questions I have for you won’t work if you’re unconscious.

The counteragent would slow the tranquilizer’s effects, not neutralize them. She’d learned that lesson the hard way three months ago in Colorado. Her father’s contacts in military R and D had supplied the formula, one of the last things he’d arranged before—

Before they killed him .

Fury surged through her veins, hot and familiar. She welcomed it.

Conall’s eyes fluttered, then rolled back entirely as his substantial weight slumped against her. Shit. He was out.

The sound of boots crunching on gravel echoed through the ravine, though their owners had moved out of sight. Getting closer. Six operatives. Heavy equipment. Coordinated movements.

Decision time.

Nadine hooked her arms under Conall’s shoulders and dragged him behind a larger outcropping, muscles straining against his dead weight. For a brief, savage moment, she considered leaving him for the tactical team. Let them take him. One less Stewart twin to deal with.

But no. She needed answers. And if Conall truly was working with these operatives—as she suspected—they wouldn’t keep him long. They’d reunite him with his twin, and Nadine would lose her best lead on her father’s killers.

My mate .

The thought sliced through her consciousness, unwelcome and infuriating.

Her wolf had recognized it instantly—the universe’s sick joke, binding her eternally to a man from the pack that had destroyed everything she loved.

Not binding. Not ever .

Mate bonds could be rejected. Painful, yes. But possible.

And easier with incomplete, new ones—like this one between them now.

She shoved Conall’s unconscious form into a narrow crevice between two boulders, arranging scrub brush to conceal the opening entirely.

The lingering scent of his skin—desert sage and cedar, with underlying notes of something earthy and male—clung to her fingers.

She wiped them roughly against her thigh.

Her inner wolf whined in protest. Nadine ruthlessly silenced it.

Her father’s face flickered in her memory. Strong. Proud. Loyal to his original alpha, Vincent. The Sunburst Pack had exiled him for that loyalty—cast him out like garbage for the crime of following pack law as it had existed for generations.

And then they’d hunted him down. Killed him.

Left his body where scavengers could find it.

Pain lanced through her chest, as fresh as the day she’d identified so much of his blood two weeks ago.

I won’t let them get away with it, she whispered.

The team was spreading out, their movements indicating they were initiating a standard search pattern. Amateur. She could evade them easily, draw them away from Stewart’s hiding spot.

Nadine closed her eyes, focusing on her shift.

Her bones cracked and re-formed, muscle and sinew rearranging as her body transformed. The familiar rush of power and sensation washed over her as her wolf took physical form—midnight black fur with a single white streak along her spine, the same streak her father’s wolf had carried.

A legacy. A reminder.

She moved quickly but deliberately, making enough noise to attract attention while staying just beyond visual range. One of the operatives shouted, and the team changed direction, following her trail.

That’s it. Follow the nice wolfie .

Her paws carried her swiftly across the desert terrain. The team pursued, their bulky human forms struggling against the desert landscape that her wolf navigated effortlessly.

She slowed for a moment, allowing them to catch sight of her.

The crack of gunfire split the air. Something hot and vicious tore through her left flank.

Nadine stumbled, a yelp escaping before she could suppress it. Her left hind leg threatened to buckle, hot blood matting her midnight fur.

Silver. The burning sensation was unmistakable.

The silver bullet had grazed her, not penetrated—small mercy. A direct hit would have poisoned her bloodstream within minutes.

Keep moving. Show no weakness .

She forced herself forward, each stride sending fresh pain lancing up her side.

Dammit. Silver wounds didn’t heal quickly like normal injuries. This would slow her down for days.

Why am I doing this?

The thought flashed unbidden as she limped behind a rocky outcropping, hidden from the tactical team’s view. She was risking her life—bleeding, hunted—to protect a man she believed had helped murder her father.

He’s evidence. Nothing more .

But the excuse rang hollow. Her wolf knew better, responding to some instinct deeper than logic or vengeance.

Protect our mate .

Even if her human half hated him.

She set out again, drawing her pursuers farther away from the Stewart twin.

Three minutes of running, then she doubled back, crossing her own scent trail to confuse them. An old hunter’s trick her father had taught her.

The movement sent fresh waves of agony through her injured leg, but she forced herself onward. Her blood would make the trail easier to follow—she needed to be smarter than them.

But she couldn’t quit thinking about her reason for being here at all.

Gregory Torrance was not a man who would die easily .

That thought had haunted her for months. Her father was a survivor, a fighter. When the Sunburst Pack had exiled him, he’d begun to build a new life. Made connections. Established security networks.

So how had they gotten to him?

It had to be an inside job. Someone who knew his routines, his safeguards.

Someone like Conall Stewart and his twin.

The Stewart twins were the pack’s best trackers. They worked seamlessly together, anticipating each other’s moves. Perfect for an assassination mission.

But why would they be working with the team following her now? That made no sense.

Unless it was all an elaborate setup. Make it look like they were targets too. Create plausible deniability.

She led the team away from pack territory altogether, toward the abandoned mine shafts that dotted the region. Perfect place to lose pursuit.

The scent of the operatives—gun oil, synthetic fabrics, sweat, and something chemical—made her nose itch. Not shifters. Humans with specialized equipment.

Chimera, maybe?

Her father had warned her about them before his death. A shadowy organization with military connections, hunting shifters for reasons unknown.

But that still didn’t explain why they’d target Conall if he was working with them.

Unless he isn’t .

The unwelcome thought crept in, undermining her certainty. She’d spent the last two weeks building a case against the Sunburst Pack, against the Stewart twins specifically.

Her evidence was circumstantial but compelling.

And yet…

The way Conall had moved to protect her when the team appeared. Instinctive. Immediate. He’d taken the dart meant for her.

Adrenaline reaction. Nothing more .

Her wolf wasn’t convinced. The mate bond vibrated beneath her skin, tugging at something deep within her.

She refused to be ruled by it.

It was biology, chemistry—nothing more than animal instinct without reason or logic.

Nadine reached an abandoned mine entrance and slipped inside, moving through the darkness with confidence. The tactical team hesitated at the entrance—their night-vision equipment was good but no match for a wolf’s natural abilities.

She found a hidden observation point, settling in to watch. The team conferred briefly, then split up—two entering the mine, the rest establishing a perimeter. They were thorough, professional.

Definitely not Sunburst Pack members. This was military precision.

Time stretched as she watched them from her hiding spot. After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, the team leader made a call on his radio.

Area clear. Targets have likely moved beyond the eastern perimeter. No signs of the tranquilized male or the female shifter. Falling back to secondary positions.

Targets. Plural .

So they weren’t just after her. They wanted Conall too.

That complicates things .

Nadine waited until the team was completely gone before moving, taking a circuitous route back toward where she’d hidden the unconscious Stewart twin. Her mind raced through possibilities, scenarios, connections.

The Stewart twins were enforcers for the new Sunburst leadership—the so-called coalphas, Malcolm and Larissa. A ridiculous concept. A pack needed one alpha, not a committee.

But if Conall truly was a target of this team, that suggested the twins weren’t working with whoever had killed her father.

Or it’s misdirection. A clever ruse .

She approached the hiding spot cautiously, scenting the air. The tranquilizer would keep Conall unconscious for at least another hour, even with the counteragent.

Plenty of time to secure him somewhere for questioning when he woke up.

But as she rounded the final boulder, her hackles rose. Something was wrong.

The brush she’d arranged was disturbed.

He was gone.

She shifted back to human form, biting back a cry as the transformation pulled at her wounded flank. The silver burn remained, an angry red gash that crossed her hip and thigh. The bleeding had slowed, but the wound pulsed with unnatural heat.

She’d need to treat it soon.

Damn it! Her voice echoed against the rock face, frustration tearing through her.

All her planning, her surveillance, wasted. She’d had one of the twins—her prime suspect—at her mercy, and now he was gone.

Worse, she’d revealed herself. They would know someone was investigating them now. They’d be on guard.

She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the roots in frustration.

Worse, the twin bond would complicate everything. What one knew, the other knew. What one experienced, the other felt.