Page 2

2

CAMERON

I hadn’t shaved in a week. That was how long I’d been in the rundown pay-by-the-hour motel, pretending it was the same as being on the road. It wasn’t, but the mattress took my quarters all the same. The whole room vibrated with the suggestion that I wasn’t alone, even though I was.

I always was.

My last job had worn on me more than usual, and I just needed a little more time. I should have gone home days ago, but there wasn’t anything waiting for me in my depressing little apartment. At least at the motel, I had the freeview hour on the porno channel to keep me company. It wasn’t particularly exciting, but the sanitized and painfully vanilla sex on the TV lulled me into a sense of comfort.

Apparently, I liked knowing other people had it just as bad as me.

I shifted on the bed and listened to the low whir of the magic fingers that tried to coax life back into my weary limbs. Hell, I hadn’t even left the room in two days thanks to the power of food-delivery apps.

Life on the road used to be fun and exhilarating, but lately, it just felt sad. I didn’t want to go out anymore, but I also didn’t want to go home. Or maybe I just didn’t know where home was these days. The futon in my crappy apartment was about as far from homey as I could imagine.

My stomach growled when I glanced at the empty Pop-Tarts box on the dresser. Maybe some fresh air and a walk to the store would do me some good. I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and sighed. The guys back at the pack would laugh if they could see me now. I’d never felt quite so pathetic. Get your shit together, dude!

Grrr . My wolf agreed.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I stripped down to a pair of workout shorts and walked barefoot around the back of the motel and slipped into the treeline. Once I was out of sight of any humans, I shifted into my fur and started running.

My last job didn’t give me much closure, and it was still bothering me. I hated feeling like I’d let my clients down. I also hated knowing there was a missing shifter out there who might be in trouble, and I just couldn’t find him. His family had hired me because I was considered one of the top trackers in the country. And a few times, I’d gotten close. But then his scent had gone cold and I just never got it back.

The only thing that allowed me to sleep at night was that the lost trail felt intentional. Like he just didn’t want to be found. And that made perfect sense to me. There were good and bad packs all around the world. And if his wasn’t good—and many weren’t—I didn’t want to drag him back to an unhealthy environment.

So I took my base fee and walked away.

Branches cracked under my paws as the sounds of the night filled my senses. Running as my wolf was always relaxing and the best way for me to clear my head.

I pushed harder. Faster. Not slowing down until my muscles were shaky, and I knew if I didn’t turn around, I’d be sleeping under a tree for the night. I didn’t mind sleeping in my fur deeper in the woods, but I was too close to the city. Hikers and bikers would likely be out at dawn with their dogs, and I hated fighting off horny rottweilers who were looking to get lucky.

It took a few more hours, but I finally made it back to the motel before the sun came up and collapsed onto the bed, still sweaty and dirty from my run. It didn’t matter, though. No one would see me until I dragged my sorry ass out of bed to get food. I’d shower then.

My eyes quickly drifted shut and they didn’t open again until my phone rang, startling me out of the best dream I’d had in a long time. A dream that involved a sweet omega who looked at me like I wasn’t some loser tracker who’d lost his ability to track.

The damn thing had bounced itself off the comforter and was vibrating on the floor, keeping time like the world’s saddest maraca. I almost rolled off the bed reaching for it but finally grabbed it and hit the call button. “Yeah.”

“Excuse me but I’m looking for Cameron Windridge. The tracker.”

No one called me Cameron unless it was for a job. “That’s me.”

“Hi, Mr. Windridge. I’m James White Senior. I’d like to hire you. My omega… Um, my son. My omega son. He’s missing. Can you help?” The guy on the other end of the line choked on a sob and then started talking faster, desperate for me to hear him spill it all out in a single breath. “Jamie ran away two days ago. He was about to be mated to a nice young man. Roderick Northpaw is a successful alpha who is willing to take on my Jamie. Unfortunately, my son seems to have gotten cold feet, but he doesn’t know how to be on his own. He needs help. Will you help us find him?”

I threw my head back and sighed into the phone. I wasn’t ready to get back out there, but I also couldn’t ignore this desperate family looking for their son. “If it’s just cold feet, he’ll probably be back. Maybe give him a few more days.”

As much as I wanted to take this man’s word at face value, I’d heard the same thing before. Just because the kid’s family wanted him back didn’t mean I should be the one to find him. Chances were slim that it was just cold feet that made him run.

If he’d been betrothed to an alpha he wasn’t in love with, he might have felt like running was his only option. Lots of packs still had old-fashioned ideologies about how to keep bloodlines strong. Unfortunately, they didn’t always prioritize keeping omegas safe with the same commitment.

“What’s the deal with this alpha he’s supposed to mate with? Why isn’t Northpaw the one calling me?” I’d heard about plenty of bad alphas over the years, and no one was worse than Northpaw. But these old-school packs didn’t always care about safety over prestige.

“He’s worried sick, but… Well, I’m his father. It’s my responsibility to get my boy home. Will you help or not?”

I kept the phone against my ear, trying to pretend I had the energy to say no. But I couldn’t do that no matter how badly I wanted to. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. Send me a photo and as many identifying details as you can think of. I’ll also need to pick up some of his clothing. Socks. Pillowcase. Stuff with his scent on it.”

“Of course. Thank you.” His voice cracked, and then he got quiet. “It was all my fault that he ran. I put too much pressure on him to save the family. I just want him back before he gets hurt.”

How many times had I heard that plea from someone who’d dowried an omega to fucking Roderick Northpaw or someone like him? He had a way of misplacing his omegas after they stopped putting up with his shit. I was happy to know his reputation was finally starting to make omegas think twice about mating with him. If only this family had been so smart.

I’d tracked down half a dozen omegas who’d run from Northpaw over the past five years. Why the hell did anyone want to subject someone they cared about to that asshole? Then again, maybe I was the asshole for continuing to hunt down people who were better left in hiding.

As soon as I disconnected the call, a flood of messages came through with photos, stats, and details about Jamie White. No part of me was excited to take this case, but a few grand to just make sure the kid was safe and then tell his family I couldn’t find him wasn’t a bad gig.

Ten minutes later, I was drying off from a shower and packing up my stuff. It was time to get out of there anyway. Time to get back to the real world. And that world now included a stop at the omega’s home to pick up some of his personal items so I could track his scent.

His pack was about four hours away, but it wasn’t like I had anything better to do with my time than to make the drive.