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Chapter twenty-three

Felix

I rolled silently from my bed, already dressed in dark clothes, and moved to the window, where Mira had installed a small motion sensor.

The paranoid little genius had rigged the entire loft with her own security system.

I’d spent my first week here mapping each component—pressure plates at the fire escape windows, electromagnetic contacts on every door, even thermal sensors in the hallways.

First, I neutralized the tamper protection on the motion sensor with a thin strip of conductive tape across the tamper switch contacts.

Then, carefully easing off the cover, I attached a jumper wire across the alarm relay terminals to maintain the closed circuit.

For the window’s magnetic contact switch, I positioned a neodymium magnet precisely where the sensor would read it as “closed” and then secured it with a dab of temporary adhesive.

All reversible modifications I could restore upon return.

I eased my window open and slipped onto the fire escape. The metal groaned under my weight—a sound that seemed to echo through the still night. I froze, every muscle locked, listening intently. No movement from inside. No one coming to investigate.

The night air hit my nostrils with a thousand stories—garbage from the nearby dumpster, grease from the Chinese restaurant two blocks over, and beneath it all, the ever-present undercurrent of the city itself.

I kept to back alleys and side streets—three blocks south, two east, then down through the underground parking garage of an abandoned department store.

Behind a loose brick in the old service corridor, I retrieved one of the burner phones I’d stashed there before I started this op and quickly typed a message.

MP3 30. Ready for pickup.

Code for Meeting Point 3. Thirty minutes.

I crushed the phone under my heel, dropping the pieces into separate dumpsters. My wolf bristled under my skin, hating the city smells, the concrete pressing in from all sides. He wanted forest. Open sky. Pack.

What neither of us needed was the persistent image of Annabella that kept surfacing in my mind.

Meeting Point 3 was a third-floor apartment in a condemned building.

The stench hit me before I even reached the stairwell—mold blooming across water-stained walls, rat piss in the corners, the lingering chemical signatures of meth cooking and heroin use.

The place was the perfect cover—even if someone tracked me here, they’d assume I was seeking a fix.

I climbed through a window where boards had been pried loose, glass crunching beneath my boots.

“Your skills are getting rusty, Shaw.”

My heart spiked before I could control it. Fucking Gideon. I knew it would be him who was here, that the train station footage would have been staged.

He stepped from the shadows, his usual smirk firmly in place, but I caught the alertness in his eyes, the subtle tension in his stance. He was on edge.

“Says the man who nearly got his ass handed to him by Annabella’s crew,” I growled, keeping my voice low. “That stunt you pulled was dangerous. What if they’d caught you?”

Gideon clutched his chest with exaggerated drama, staggering back a step. “Your concern is touching. I always knew you loved me.”

“I’m serious, Gideon.” My jaw clenched tight enough to ache. “Annabella’s crew isn’t a joke. If they’d gotten you back to their base—”

“But they didn’t because I’m just that good.” His smirk widened. “Besides, I knew my knight in shining fur would save me if things got hairy. You always do.”

“Next time, use the established protocol,” I said. “That’s what it’s there for.”

“I would, Shaw, if you stuck to them. You were three days late checking in.”

Point to Gideon.

“There a problem?”

I kept my gaze steady. “No. Just couldn’t get away.”

“Uh-huh.” Gideon knew me well enough to know I wasn’t being completely honest, but he didn’t push it. “So, you got an update for me, or did you just miss me?”

I ran a hand through my hair, still not used to its longer length. “Webster is definitely involved. He’s the boss Annabella reports to. I met him yesterday.”

Gideon whistled low, leaning against the crumbling wall. “Simon Webster himself? What did you think of him?”

“Ruthless. Manipulative. Egotistical. He’s cultivated a loyal following. Not someone to underestimate.”

Gideon nodded. “Matches other reports we have of him. Guy’s a true believer in his own superiority.”

“He asked specifically to meet me. Or rather, to meet Felix.”

“Consider yourself special.” Gideon pulled a knife from some hidden sheath, absently flipping it between his fingers.

“Or consider myself compromised. Webster tested me, asking about my backstory, particularly my alleged Pack in the North.”

“You think your cover held?”

“The Felix Masters identity is solid. I made sure of that before I went in.”

“Good. Any news on locating their memory-wipe operation?”

I shook my head. “They don’t take them back to the loft. I’ve seen Lydia slip out at odd hours. There has been mention of a warehouse, but nobody’s talking about the location. Next time she moves, I’ll follow her.”

“And the group’s next move?” Gideon’s knife stilled in his hand.

“They’re targeting Talia Johnson.”

The change in Gideon was instant. His casual demeanor hardened, the knife disappearing as he straightened. Talia was one of the few people Gideon actually respected.

“Webster wants us to capture her at the Harrington Hotel charity gala.”

“Fuck.” The word emerged as a hiss between clenched teeth. Gideon’s scent sharpened with the acrid bite of adrenaline. “We need to extract you now. Mission’s over.”

“No. If we pull me out, we lose our only inside track on Webster’s operations. Plus, if we want any chance of reversing the spells, we need the location of where they’re doing the mind-wipes.”

“Talia’s not expendable, Shaw.” Gideon’s voice dropped dangerously low. “She’s the only reason we’ve been able to contain ripple as much as we have.”

“We’ll just have to make sure she’s not compromised.

Annabella and I will be posing as a couple at the gala.

The rest of her team will be creating diversions around the building.

The plan is to intercept Talia in the service corridor when she heads to the stage to present an award.

You now know the plan. Make sure Annabella and me fail. ”

“Ah, yes.” Gideon’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing as he studied my face. “And how is the delightful car crash that is Annabella McGrath?”

“She’s…” The hesitation lasted less than a second, but it might as well have been a full confession to someone like Gideon.

“Not what I expected. Relentless in her goal of destroying the Wolf Council. She cares about her crew, she does everything to minimize danger and collateral damage to civilians. She’s a good leader, a skilled strategist.”

“You sound like you respect her.”

“I do. She’s a formidable opponent. And she has no idea Webster is behind ripple production.”

That got Gideon’s full attention. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” The memory of Annabella’s face flashed in my mind—the genuine anger in her eyes, the way her voice had tightened with emotion.

“She pushed Webster to take more aggressive action against the Council specifically to address the ripple crisis. She believes with the Council out of the way, witches can finally deal with the producers, hunt down and destroy all traces of the drug. Webster shut her down, claimed his coven was ‘investigating’ the source.”

Gideon paced the small space, knife suddenly back in his hand, flipping rapidly between his fingers. “That parries with the intel on the USB I slipped you.”

“Essential to continue supporting AM operation while ensuring operatives remain unaware of broader objectives and purpose,” I quoted. “Webster’s keeping Annabella’s crew in the dark about them being behind ripple. He’s using her.”

“Well, color me shocked and flabbergasted,” Gideon drawled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

“The manipulative mastermind who tried to enslave our entire species is actually manipulating someone? Who could have possibly predicted such an outlandish turn of events?” He caught the knife by the handle with a sharp flick of his wrist. “But your little revolutionary made her bed when she signed up with Webster.”

I hesitated, then said, “There’s something else. The dynamic between her and Webster… it’s off. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something there, something beyond the professional.”

“You think he’s fucking her?”

My wolf growled, and I knew my eyes flashed in anger before I could shut him down.

What the hell is wrong with you?

He didn’t respond.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Either way, Webster is playing her, and she has no idea.”

“Sympathy for the terrorist?” Gideon’s tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. “Remember what she did to Reynolds, Shaw.”

My chest tightened at the memory of my mentor sitting in that care facility, staring blankly at me, no recognition in his eyes. “I remember.”

“Good.” Gideon twirled his knife again. “Because it sounds like you’re starting to forget which side you’re on.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped, anger flaring hot and fast. “Understanding what motivates her makes it easier to—”

“To what? Manipulate her, just like Webster’s doing?”

Fuck!

He was right. Yes, I was manipulating her. It was my job. It was the mission. So why did it feel so fucking shitty?

Gid must have seen the answer in my face. “Remember, she’s not an innocent in this, Shaw. She may not know about ripple, but she still attacked the Council. She’s made her choices. Getting close to targets is part of the op, but there’s a line. We’re counting on you not to cross it.”

The warning sent a flash of heat through me. “I know my fucking job.”

“Do you?” Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re getting attached to someone who wouldn’t hesitate to wipe your mind if she knew who you really were.”

“We done here?”

“Not quite.” He checked his watch with a casualness that didn’t match his sudden shift in scent—the sharp tang of concern. “One more thing. Kane’s been asking questions about your whereabouts.”

I froze. Fucking Victor Kane. I knew why the Council had agreed to let the human governments place someone on the Council but of all the fucking people they could have chosen.

Kane had been implementing his anti-Shifter agenda since the day he was appointed—systematically sabotaging the Council from within like a cancer.

He’d been whispering poison in the ears of Council members, exploiting ancient Pack rivalries and territorial disputes to turn wolves against each other.

The Council was now more fractured than ever, each faction too busy watching their own backs to notice the noose tightening around all our necks.

Kane had been behind the slashing of our enforcement budgets while redirecting funds to “oversight committees” staffed with his human allies.

He deliberately scheduled critical votes when key members were absent, manipulated the human press with carefully leaked “incidents” that painted us as dangerous, and blocked every attempt to create a unified response to the ripple crisis.

“What kind of questions?”

“The kind that suggests he doesn’t believe the official ‘special assignment’ story.” Gideon’s face was grim now, all traces of his usual mockery gone. “He’s been reviewing personnel files, focusing on operatives with undercover experience. And guess whose file he requested specifically?”

Oh, lucky me. But it did confirm my suspicions that Kane was the one feeding Webster information about me going missing.

“Webster has all his teams hunting for Sam Shaw. He’s uneasy about the Council’s newest member going missing.”

Gideon’s knife stilled in his hand, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. “This is getting too hot, Shaw. Webster hunting you, Kane digging into your file, now they’re targeting Talia…” He shook his head. “We need to pull you out. Now.”

“Not happening.”

“Damn it, Shaw. You’ve confirmed Webster’s involvement. We’ve got evidence of his connection to ripple production. That’s enough to justify emergency action.”

“But not enough to make it stick,” I countered. “We still don’t know where they’re conducting the mind-wipes. We don’t have direct proof of Kane’s involvement, just circumstantial connections. I’m staying.”

“And if Annabella’s team figures out who you are? Or if Webster connects Felix Masters to Sam Shaw?” Gideon’s eyes flashed with genuine concern. “You’ll end up like Reynolds—if you’re lucky. More likely, you’ll end up dead.”

“I know the risks.”

Gideon stared at me for a long moment, frustration warring with resignation on his face. “Always with the fucking death wish,” he muttered. “Talia won’t like this.”

“Talia would do the same thing,” I said, knowing it was true.

But if Kane did discover I was undercover investigating his ally, Webster…

“Does Kane know where I am?”

“Nah. No one knows except me and Talia. But you need to watch your back.” He moved toward the window. “Not just from Annabella’s group.”

I nodded.

“Same protocol for next contact. I’ll let Talia know she’s a target. We’ll come up with a plan, but you might need to adapt your one on the fly to match whatever we come up with.”

“Whatever plan you and Talia cook up, you can’t be anywhere near that gala. Annabella’s team knows your face now. If any of them spot you…”

“I’ll be a ghost,” Gideon assured me. “Long-range overwatch only. Won’t even be in the same building. But Shaw?” He paused at the window. “Don’t let your dick make strategic decisions.”

He was gone before I could respond, dropping into the shadows like a fucking bat.