Font Size
Line Height

Page 3 of The Alpha’s Forced Rejected Mate (Silverlight Valley Alphas #1)

Six years later

Dominic smiled as his blade sank into the training dummy. In a quick move, he pulled it out and spun, slashing again, severing the dummy’s head from its torso.

The dummy’s head rolled on the floor until it hit the far wall. Dominic didn’t stop to look at where it landed. He sensed it as he sensed everything in the training room. His muscles complained as he continued practicing his moves on the next dummy.

Sweat soaked the black fabric of his fitted T-shirt, but he kept his breathing controlled as his knife flashed through the air, his boots barely making a sound on the concrete.

The doors opened. Dominic didn’t turn.

“I said no interruptions.”

“The Council wants you.” Marcus Vale’s frame filled the doorway, his auburn hair swept back from his face, amber eyes assessing Dominic with quiet calculation.

Marcus wore the standard Hunter uniform, black pants and a gray shirt with their emblem, a silver wolf’s head with a dagger through it, boldly printed on the chest.

Never stopping his practice, Dominic drove his knife into the center of the last dummy’s chest before answering, “The Council will have me in five minutes.”

Marcus remained where he was, though, watching Dominic.

Can a man not get five minutes?

Dominic collected his weapons, ignoring the fellow hunter. But Marcus didn’t intend to let him have his quiet. “Word is this assignment’s high priority.”

“All our assignments are high priority,” Dominic replied simply, sliding his knife into its sheath at his hip.

Marcus smiled. “Fair point. But Xavier called this one in personally.”

That caught Dominic’s attention. The leader of the Council rarely involved himself in mission assignments. Of course, he thinks I know something.

“Interesting.” Dominic strapped his secondary weapons to his thigh holsters. “Any details?”

“Not my clearance level.” Marcus shrugged. “But something’s sure got the higher-ups spooked.”

Spooked? Nothing spooks the Council, Dominic thought, securing his weapons with practiced movements. The Hunter Organization had stood for centuries, a bulwark between humanity and supernatural threats. And for the last six years, he had been one of their hunters.

“Well, I’ll find out if it’s in my clearance level soon.” Dominic grabbed his jacket on their way out. “The others back yet?”

“Roman and Kieran are due in tonight. Adrian’s still in the tech room—hasn’t left in thirty-six hours.”

Dominic nodded. His team was scattered across the globe, hunting various targets, but they always returned to headquarters when called.

The abandoned military base that served as the Hunter Organization’s compound sprawled across fifty acres of isolated woodland. High walls topped with silver-infused barbed wire kept intruders out and, when necessary, captives in.

“I’ll check in with Adrian after the meeting,” Dominic said.

Marcus stepped aside to let him pass. “Good hunting, Alpha.”

Dominic’s steps echoed as he strode through the corridor, the fluorescent lights overhead lighting his path.

Six years ago, he’d been on the path to become Alpha of the Silverlight Valley Pack. Now, he led a different kind of pack—killers and hunters bound by purpose rather than blood.

The Council chambers were in the heart of the compound, an old war room with reinforced walls and no windows. Dominic passed the security checkpoint with a nod to the guards, his clearance level granting him immediate access.

The circular room was dominated by a massive round table.

Three of the seven Council members were already seated.

At the head sat Xavier Storm, his midnight-black hair swept back from a face that seemed ageless despite the man’s forty-five years.

His dark eyes fixed on Dominic the moment he entered.

Xavier gestured to the empty chair across from him. “Right on time.”

Dominic took his seat, noting the tension. “You have a mission for me.”

Xavier slid a thin digital tablet across the table. “Capture this target, don’t kill.”

Dominic picked up the tablet, the screen illuminated with a dossier on his target’s profile. “That’s unusual.”

“We need this one alive,” said Councilwoman Helena Reid, her silver hair pulled back in a severe bun that matched her expression. “Intact.”

Dominic swiped through the preliminary information. Female, early twenties, residing in Chicago. Suspected witch with unusual power signatures.

“A witch?” He looked up. “I thought the purge three years ago had eliminated most of the witches.”

“Most, but not all,” Xavier confirmed. “And not the ones that matter.”

Dominic continued reading. According to the file, the target had been living under a human identity for the past five years, working as a librarian. “She seems…ordinary.”

“Deceptively so,” Xavier said, leaning forward. “Our intelligence indicates she’s been channeling significant power—enough to register on our arcane sensors from three states away.”

Dominic flipped to the next page, scanning the energy readings. They were impressive. “What’s her connection to demons?”

Helena exchanged a glance with Xavier before answering. “We’re not entirely sure. But there have been…incidents. Three of our hunters have gone missing in her vicinity in the past month. The last one managed to send a partial report before disappearing. He indicated demonic influence.”

“That’s why we need her captured, not killed,” Xavier added. “When she undergoes the ritual, her powers will be neutralized, and she can provide us with some much-needed intelligence.”

Dominic bristled at the mention of the ritual. “You want me to bring her in for a forced marriage.”

It wasn’t a question. The Hunter Organization had been practicing the ancient ritual for centuries. The practice was sanctioned as a necessity, a way to prevent witches from becoming vessels for demonic possession.

“You’re the only one we trust to control her,” Xavier answered, but ignored the main question. “Your resistance to magical control makes you the perfect hunter for the mission.”

Dominic closed the tablet, his expression impassive. “When do I leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. You’ll have three days to observe, then capture.

We need her here for the dark moon.” Xavier’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Now, this is for your ears only, Dominic. We’ve detected an unsettling increase in demonic activity within our own ranks.

Three hunters have turned in the past month. ”

What?

“Turned?” Dominic’s attention sharpened.

“Possessed,” Helena clarified. “Their wolves corrupted by demonic influence. We had to put them down.”

That was disturbing. Werewolves were naturally very difficult to possess, their dual nature making their body very difficult for outsiders to control. For three to fall in such a short time suggested something far more sinister at work.

“You think she’s connected,” Dominic stated.

“We know she is,” Xavier replied. “Now we just need to find out if she’s a willing participant or a pawn.”

Dominic saw that this case was definitely for him. “I’ll find out.”

“Good.” Xavier stood. “The full dossier will be uploaded to your secure server. Review it thoroughly. You know what I always say, assumptions kill.”

Xavier’s tone gave Dominic pause, but all he did was nod. “Understood.”

Helena stood as well, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Be careful, Blackwood.”

Dominic’s mind was already formulating strategies as he left the Council chambers. He made his way through the labyrinthine corridors of the compound, nodding to hunters he passed. He knew exactly where he wanted to get to.

The tech division was in the east wing, its design a stark contrast to the functional design of the rest of the compound.

Glass walls separated various workstations where specialists monitored supernatural activities across the globe.

At the center of it all, surrounded by multiple screens displaying scrolling data, sat Adrian Cross.

The blond man didn’t look up as Dominic approached, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the code racing across his primary monitor. Dark circles beneath his eyes testified to his marathon work session.

“I need everything you have on a witch in Chicago,” Dominic said without preamble.

Adrian continued typing for several seconds before finally looking up. “The librarian? I’m processing the data now.” He rolled his chair to another section where a printer was spitting out pages. “Unusual energy signature. Doesn’t match any known witch patterns.”

Dominic took the stack of papers Adrian handed him. “Specifics?”

“Most witches channel one type of energy,” Adrian said in an exhausted tone. “This one definitely doesn’t. Multiple signatures, like she’s tapping into several power sources simultaneously.”

“How is that possible?” Dominic flipped through the printouts, studying the energy graphs.

Adrian shrugged his wiry shoulders. “It shouldn’t be. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Unless she’s not just a witch,” Adrian lowered his voice. “There are theories about hybrids. Witch-shifter bloodlines from before the great purge. Supposedly, they could access both magical and primal energies.”

Dominic’s expression didn’t change, but something cold settled in his gut. “Theories. Not facts.”

“Just theories,” Adrian agreed, but his eyes narrowed. “But this would explain the readings.”

“Send everything to my quarters,” Dominic said, handing back the papers. “I want satellite imagery of her movements from the past month. Known associates. Daily routine.”

“Already compiling.” Adrian turned back to his screens. “Check your server in an hour.”

Dominic left the tech division, his stride purposeful as he headed toward his private quarters. Located in the west wing, away from the barracks housing the regular hunters, his rooms reflected his status as alpha. Spartanly furnished but spacious, with a separate office area for mission planning.

He activated the soundproofing with a button once he stepped in, which not even enhanced werewolf hearing could penetrate. Privacy was a rare commodity in the compound.

Shrugging off his jacket, Dominic sat at his desk and opened the digital tablet, accessing the full dossier Xavier had promised.

Seeing the target’s face on the screen, for a moment, Dominic felt a jolt.

Dark blue eyes stared back at him from beneath a fringe of brown hair, her expression solemn in the surveillance photo.

Something familiar about her.

He scrolled through her details. Twenty-six years old. Five-foot-six. Worked at the Chicago Public Library’s rare book collection. Lived alone in an apartment in Lincoln Park. No known supernatural associations. No criminal record.

Lily Coleman.

Something about her face tugged at his memory, but the name didn’t register at all. He enlarged the photo, studying her features more closely.

Without warning, his wolf stirred, pushing against his consciousness with urgency, one he hadn’t felt in years. Dominic gripped the edge of the desk as he fought against the wolf with his own will.

No. Stay down.

His wolf had been dormant for so long, resigned to the iron control Dominic exerted over their shared consciousness. For it to suddenly assert itself was both surprising and concerning.

Dominic closed his eyes, focusing on suppressing the agitation of his wolf. When he opened them again, he deliberately avoided looking at the witch’s photo.

The last time he listened to his wolf, everything went to hell.

Memories threatened to surface—memories of a waterfall, of soft skin under his hands, of betrayal and magic that had nearly bound him against his will. Of cruelty he’d been forced to employ to protect them both.

He pushed those thoughts aside. Six years was a long time. Long enough to bury the past. Long enough to become someone—something—else.

Dominic continued reviewing the file, memorizing the witch’s routines, her habits, the layout of her apartment building. But a low-level unease persisted, his wolf restless beneath his skin.

It was nightfall when he finished reviewing the information from Adrian. He stood, stretching his muscles, and crossed to the kitchenette, where he poured himself two fingers of whiskey.

He swallowed it in one gulp and the alcohol burned pleasantly. He rarely drank, but something about this assignment unsettled him. The alcohol would help him sleep, and he needed to be sharp tomorrow.

Dominic stripped off his shirt as he moved to the bedroom area, changed into loose-fitting black sweatpants, and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sleep, when it came, dragged him under quickly.

He dreamed of silver hair, of laughter by a creek. Of desperate kisses and a power that had threatened to consume them both.

Luna.

She needed to go. It was the only way to keep her safe. From the pack. From him.

Then he found himself chasing her through the woods, desperate to reach her, to explain. But always, she remained just out of reach, her silver hair always too far to catch.

Luna, wait. Please.

But she couldn’t, she wouldn’t hear him until she disappeared, leaving him alone in the darkness.

His body was drenched as he jerked awake.

Luna.

He hadn’t dreamed of her in years. Hadn’t allowed himself to.

Dominic splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, his reflection staring back in the mirror.

Why now?

He felt regret for just a moment. Regret for the words he’d said to Luna, for the life they might have had if things had been different.

Then, as if on command, the feeling was replaced by a familiar numbness. His expression hardened, the vulnerability disappearing as quickly as it came.

It didn’t matter now. She was gone. And he had a job to do.

Dominic returned to his bed, but didn’t sleep again. When dawn came, he started preparing for the mission, packing weapons and equipment into a black duffel bag. He changed into civilian clothes—dark jeans and a charcoal Henley.

He clipped his silver pendant around his neck, engraved with runes that bolstered his natural resistance to magic.

He did a final check of his weapons. He was ready.

Dominic’s mind was focused solely on the mission ahead as he shouldered his bag and headed for the compound’s garage to his vehicle. The witch was a threat that needed to be taken care of. His wolf may be uneasy, but his path was clear.

He would capture her. He would bring her back for the binding ritual. And he would end whatever connection she had to the demons infiltrating their ranks.

No matter what his wolf thought. No matter what dreams haunted him.

This witch would fall like all the others. And nothing would stand in his way.

Ad If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.