Page 25 of The Alpha's Bullied Rejected Mate

And the worst part was that he let her.

Because he closed his damn eyes.

Because he had effortlessly underestimated her.

And he had been right there, resting in the living room while she walked away like smoke.

He was Marcus Vale. He never made mistakes.

Not with missions. Especially not with missions.

And now in this particular one, he had made two.

Because no matter how skilled she was, she shouldn’t have been able to pull that off had he not given her a sliver of time and even the slightest flicker of opportunity.

And she had taken it like a damn professional.

He stared at the chair where she was seated.

“Aza,” he whispered under his breath in a raw, stinging disbelief.

He had been hunting witches for six years. He had faced off against even the most powerful dark ones who could twist minds with little more than a glance. And still, he had never been this caught off guard.

Not like this.

Marcus cursed under his breath, slamming the door shut behind him. His heartbeat pounded like drums of war in his ears.

It was clear now.

She was dangerous, clever, and calculating.

She was a storm in disguise. A lull before destruction.

And now that she was out there. Marcus knew one thing for certain. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

Aza Nath was a threat, and he was going to find her.

She couldn’t have gone that far. Not with a child. Not on foot.

Marcus took off on a run. His boots hit the floor with practiced high speed, as adrenaline flooded through his system.

His wolf was fully engaged now with only one goal.

Find her.

He followed her rapidly fading trail until it disappeared.

She had cloaked her trail. Impressive.

But he could track her regardless.

He pressed two fingers to the mark tattooed on his wrist—a hunter’s sigil, enchanted for tracking. It glowed faintly in response. He closed his eyes to focus, feeling the latent magicrespond to his touch and heighten his senses. He pictured a blonde-haired boy in the blue pajamas he wore, sensing it would be easier to track the kid than his mother, who had somehow cloaked her scent.

The world dulled at the edges as he reached inward into his mind so the thread of magic could lead him to the boy.

His mind scanned through a number of faces before settling on Riley’s in his mother’s arms.

There. South-west.