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I must’ve lost my fucking mind.

I wasn’t supposed to be flirting with my mark. I was supposed to be gathering intel. I told myself I was only going to The Antler to confirm that he was Blue Aubin. That he was the Leporidae shifter I was looking for.

Expecting to stumble upon a desperate, lonely and maybe angry young man, instead I found a confident, gorgeous man with the most unusual eyes I’ve ever seen. They were so dark, they were almost black and when I looked at him, it was like he was luring me in, swallowing me deeper into his abyss.

I don’t know what was running through my head when I invited him to dinner. I guess I must’ve thought it would give me the opportunity to do a little digging, to find out if he was happy with his life.

Abiel wanted him back. The tale he spun me about a wayward teen easily led was crumbling at the seams when I was faced with a man who smiled easily and looked very much at home in Aurora Pines. He seemed happy. How was I supposed to convince him to return to the war?

More intel was needed, and perhaps that would involve befriending him. Flirting a little more. And if he decided to take me up on my offer of dinner...well, we’d cross that bridge when we reached it.

His rejection could be beneficial. If he was out of town on Saturday, that would give me the opportunity to take a look around a little more. I was already planning a little visit to the cabin tomorrow just to scout it out, but Saturday would give me a bit more time.

Something was off about this job. A part of me wanted to turn around and go back home, my instincts whispering that the pieces of the puzzle don’t fit. However, leaving wasn’t an option, I needed the money.

Three years ago after The Ghost slipped through my fingers on a job in Germany, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Sickness in shifters was rare, so the treatment had to be aggressive. Aggressive also meant expensive.

My job at Interpol had taken me to places all over the world. I lived in cities some people would only ever read about online or in books. For a while I even had a base in Berlin in Mitte. It was only a small apartment that never really felt like home. It only had a few pieces of furniture and nothing personal, but when I received the call about my mother and I had to move home, it was harder to pack my life into those boxes than I thought it would be.

I loved my work, but I couldn’t be halfway across the world when the woman who raised me needed me. My brothers, Kingsley, Arlo and Finn urged me not to worry and they tried to convince me not to return home but what kind of son would that make me? Besides, they had their own lives too, Arlo had been dealing with the end of an abusive relationship and Flynn was a single parent to two small girls. Kingsley was the youngest, barely out of college, how were we supposed to put this on his shoulders?

As the oldest, it was on me to make sure everyone was cared for. So, using all of my savings, I made the move and covered the treatment, making sure my mother was cared for. My brothers had done a lot of the running around while I got all my ducks in a row, and between us we made it work.

What they don’t really talk about, is the after-care required. While my mother underwent treatment, her quality of life dropped. She needed help and support beyond what we could provide at times, despite me moving in to be with her.

Even now, though she was in remission, it didn’t mean her life went back to normal. The treatment had made her weak and ruined her immune system, so we decided she needed help at home—that was another expense to add to the list. I wasn’t bitter about it because I would give every penny I had and the shirt off my back for the woman who raised me but it did mean I needed to make adjustments.

Being a Private Investigator (PI) started because it was a way to stay close to home, well...closer and it allowed me to pick and choose my jobs depending on how well my mother was doing at the time. The money was also decent. A big job might mean that I didn’t need to work for the rest of the month so I could spend that time with my mother. I think that was one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned about her sickness, time is finite. And time is worth more than money.

After lunch at The Antler, I head back to my rented department. Inside I’ve taken over the dining table with my paperwork, there’s a mix of notes, photos and even blueprints. It’s everything I have on Blue but it still doesn’t tell me what I want to know.

Abiel doesn’t know where I am currently. I hadn’t wanted to give him any updates until I knew for sure that my lead panned out because I didn’t trust him. Information in the wrong hands could be dangerous and while he played the role of caring and concerned High Leap, I had no way of knowing just how important the stolen items were or how far he might be willing to go to get them back. I couldn’t risk giving him the wrong information and someone innocent being caught up in this wild chase spanning three years and crossing state lines.

I did however, still have to give him some sort of update. Sending him a brief email, I just explained that I might have found a lead and it was taking me out of state for a while with a promise to check in as soon as I found something concrete.

At a loss for a few hours until I could scope out the cabin during the evening shift at the bar, I decided to check in with a contact back at Interpol. Jason Landrey, my ex-colleague and the closest thing to a close friend I have answers after only two rings.

“Hey, just calling to thank you again for the favor.”

Jason had sent across some files to help with my search and done a bit of a background check on Shepard Coleman, coming up with nothing out of the ordinary.

“Don’t mention it man. Like seriously, don’t.” Jason chuckles.

Is it strange to miss someone’s laugh? We worked together for so long but now it was the occasional phone call and a beer when both of us were in the same city—which happened very rarely.

“I’m just joking with you, Mad Dog. How’s things in Aurora Pines? Cold as fuck?”

The use of my old nickname makes me grin. I’d earned it for being relentless, like a dog with a bone, despite being a fox shifter. It was also a play on my name, Madoc, rooted in Welsh history and meaning good fortune or blessed. Besides The Ghost, I had an excellent track record for closing cases.

“How did you know?” I glance out the window. While there was no snow falling currently, there was a dusting of it on the streets outside. From the apartment, I had a fantastic view of the mountains and the snow-covered trees. It almost looked like a painting.

“Because the town spends half the year buried in snow.” He had a point. A part of me regrets that I won’t be here to see the spring. I bet it looks beautiful when all the snow melted and the greenery and the flowers came to life. My mother would like it here. It’s peaceful. Maybe I could bring her one day.

“So, are you going to tell me about the job?” Jason nudges, and I realize I miss this, too. Having someone to brainstorm and talk through ideas with. Going it alone as a PI wasn’t as glamorous as Interpol, and a heck of a lot lonelier.

“Just a standard missing person case.” Rubbing my forehead, I grunt quietly.

This entire case was giving me a headache, a steady throbbing as the intelligence analyst part of my brain was questioning everything. Overthinking. Connecting the dots when I was only being paid to find a person who I had already found.

He makes a humming noise, and I can picture him now, nodding along while sat at his desk, dark hair flopped over into his big brown eyes. “But something about this isn’t quite standard, is it? I recognize that tone. I worked alongside you for five years man—give me some credit!”

“Do you know much about Leporidae shifters? Or The Warrens?” I don’t know why I’m asking, I should just stop digging. Stop making more work for myself but it’s like a compulsion.

“The Warrens or Burrows are sites where Leporidae live and there are Warrens in almost every large city.” Jason clicks his tongue. “In Europe, they’re bigger compounds. More of them tend to live together.”

That was what I knew too. I couldn’t ask Jason to do a deeper dive, it might trigger something and I didn’t want to put him at risk like that.

“The Warren 297 is the one that reached out and this missing person case is for them.” I admit, getting to my feet and pacing around the living area while I tried to work through my scattered thoughts.

“Huh, I thought that species hated outside intervention or help?”

“Me too. But the missing person might have also stolen from The Husk.”

There’s silence down the line before he murmurs, “Oh shit.”

The Husk, as the ruling group of Leporidae, commanded a certain level of respect. It was either incredibly ballsy or insanely stupid to steal from them.

“I mean, those guys always gave me cult vibes so just be careful Mad. Don’t trust anything they say.” Jason’s voice is tight, solemn, as he tries to offer advice we both know I’m not going to take. “Just do the job and get out of there.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

*****

W hen I drive out to the lake, in my rented truck, it’s already dark.I hadn’t originally planned on hiring a vehicle, but it turned out to be a necessity when I realized I was coming to Aurora Pines. A lot of the area was mountainous or made up of dirt tracks and walking trails.

Following one of the dirt tracks towards a hiking trail parking lot, I pull up and park. There are no other vehicles nearby, probably because it’s not quite a busy season for camping and hiking just yet.

Stripping my clothes off and cursing the chill in the air that promises fresh snow, I shove them into my backpack and into the truck. Stretching out my shoulders and my neck, I get ready to shift.

The familiar tingling sensation starts in my core and spreads outwards, warming my body as the tingling turns into prickling and everything begins to morph. My bones and ligaments twist and shift as I become my other self.

It’s not an entirely painless process and the reason why the majority of shifters choose to live in their human forms most of the time. There are even cases of people who have become trapped as their animal selves, refusing to endure the shift back, afraid of the sensations.

When the process is finally finished, I exhale and center myself. I love being a fox. It’s the form where I feel most at home. Everything is simpler, easier and instinct driven. I’m still there, but it’s like some of the inhibitions have fallen away.

As a fox, the world is much brighter, the darkness no longer the same obstacle as I start to run. The Coleman cabin is on the other side of the lake and since I’m limited on time, I can’t stop and enjoy the run even though that's what my alpha nature demands.

The dirt beneath my paws feels fresh and soft, as I run, freer than I have felt in weeks. The woods were my domain, where my inner predator felt most powerful. Sticking close to the tree line as a precaution, I race around the edge of the lake, following the curve until I get nearer the Coleman cabin.

If you close your eyes and picture a lake almost so still that it appears glasslike. Soft gentle ripples break the surface here and there, looking like you could almost reach out and run your fingers along the ridges. Pine trees stand proud and tall, wide and towering, with all different hues of rich greens sprinkled with snowy tops. A pebble embankment rises up out of the water, slowly morphing into grass and there sits the cabin.

There are three small steps leading up to the porch that wraps around half of the cabin and overhangs the lake. The roof is covered in a dusting of snow, just like the surrounding tree. It’s not very large, and it needs a little bit of love, but it’s still postcard worthy.

There are no lights on, which is not a surprise, as I know Blue is currently working his evening shift at The Antler. I don’t have much time because from what I’ve observed, he typically doesn't work until closing. If it’s a quiet night down at the bar, he might finish early and I don’t want to be still in the woods when he does.

Besides, this is only a preliminary observation.

I walk around the entirety of the cabin, taking into consideration floor plans that Jason sent me across and referencing them with some older plans I found online. I know that the majority of the cabin is open plan with a bedroom and bathroom installed upstairs. They were late editions, only added earlier this year and, from what I understood, had been Blue’s doing.

Thanks to the creatures that live in the woods and around the lake, the scents here are jumbled, an intricate weaving of smells, but I can still pick out something sharp and sweet. It’s stronger than the others, but I still can’t quite pluck that thread.

Releasing pheromones or spreading your scent was not the ‘done’ thing. It was considered rude. Most people used scent inhibitors or suppressants when they were in public, so even though I’ve been close to Blue at The Antler, I still hadn’t been able to pick up his scent clearly enough to get a read on it now.

After circling the cabin a few times, and taking a closer look at the foundations of the building, I head back to my truck, taking a different route through the trees this time.

The contractors had talked about an underground vault, but nothing I’d seen suggested that it was beneath the cabin. There were no signs of disturbance to the cabin foundations or the surrounding grounds. It was also too close to the lake for it to be a wise choice for a vault. Which means it had to be built elsewhere in the woods, but where?

I didn’t have the time to explore, not when Blue could return at any moment. Granted, he would only see my fox form, but I wasn’t prepared for that just yet. I might need this secret later.

Just what was Blue hiding out in the woods?