Page 2 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

Classic Adrian.He scrolled further.

Affiliations: None. No supernatural networks detected.

Criminal Record: Clean as a whistle. Too clean.

The summary was thorough, but in the way a locked box was secure. Everything was in place, which, in his line of work, usually meant something was being hidden.

His eyes lingered on the image embedded in the corner of the file. It was a candid street shot of her walking home, a tote bag slung over her shoulder, her dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun, her face turned slightly toward the sun as if savoring its warmth.

His communicator buzzed softly in his ear before a voice cut in.

“Target’s schedule holds. She will head home around 6:45 pm tomorrow, so that’s your opening.”

He pulled up the location server Kieran Nash, their lead tracker, had uploaded to their shared cloud. The interface pulsed with an energy marker very faint and nearly indistinguishable to the untrained eye. But Kieran could trace magical signatures across any terrain—through concrete, forest, or fog.

“She’s either the most boring witch I’ve ever seen,” Kieran added through the communicator, “or a very dangerous one. No in between.”

“I’ll find out soon enough,” Marcus said, his voice low.

“Are you sure about this plan of yours?” Kieran pressed.

“What if she doesn’t fall for your charm-and-trap routine?” he teased further. He was not in sight, but Marcus could bet he was smirking.

“I have never needed more than that,” Marcus replied with confidence.

“Of course, Charmer.” Kieran snorted. “Anyways, stay low.”

“Is that concern I hear from you?” Marcus retorted dryly.

“You wish.” Kieran chuckled. “The last thing we need is the civilian population getting a light show.”

“That’s all. You have 20 hours to prepare. I suggest you get some sleep,” Kieran said and disconnected the transmission.

***

The next evening, Marcus was ready to leave. He grabbed his communicator and pocketed it, his eyes fixed on the blinking red pulse on the screen of his tablet.

Marcus set the tablet down and stood, pulling on a fitted gray short-sleeved Henley and black jeans.

Casual was the charm.

He reached for his black jacket—then paused. He needed his forearm bare for the plan to work.

He exhaled, slipping into his black boots and stepping into the dusk, the cool air brushing against his skin.

He had never failed a mission.

And he didn’t intend to start now.

At precisely 6 PM, Marcus was in position. He was seated in a corner bar directly across from the street Ava would pass through. His seat gave him a clear view of the bookstore’s doors.

A blonde woman, two seats away from him, flashed him a flirtatious smile, eyeing his build.

He rolled his eyes inwardly.

He had seen a prettier blonde-haired woman.

A certain green-eyed one, with a laughter as beautiful as springtime. He clenched his jaw and shoved the memory away.