Page 32 of The Reluctant Mate (Shifters of the Three Rivers #5)
Chapter thirty-two
Derek
“G ot it!” Waylen’s shout made us turn toward him. He’d been working on the files for the last two hours, and his eyes were wide behind his glasses. “I’m through the encryption. And holy shit, you guys need to see this.”
He opened a file browser, revealing dozens of folders with cryptic names. Waylen clicked through them rapidly, pulling up documents and scrolling through data.
“It’s a whole intelligence operation,” he muttered. “Look at this—personnel files, financial records, operation plans, the works.”
A PDF opened on one screen, showing a profile with a photograph.
“Simon Webster,” Sam breathed, leaning forward.
Fuck me.
Webster wasn’t just any witch—he was why we banned all witches and their magic in the north. Fifteen years ago, he designed a spell to put all werewolves under his control. Mind-control that would’ve turned us into puppets and slaves. He’d nearly succeeded. In the end, the spell failed. The investigation afterward claimed the spell was impossible to pull off, but it didn’t stop the Wolf Council from implementing a no-witches policy. Webster had disappeared, going underground. There had been rumors for years of him down south, organizing witches, trying to regroup and rebuild, but no firm proof that he was even still alive.
“Damn, I thought he was dead,” Carlito said.
“Not according to this,” Waylen said, typing rapidly. “And look who he’s been playing with.”
My jaw clenched as Kane’s face appeared on screen. Not just Kane—Torres, Mitchell, Brooks, other men who had been in my garrison. All names I thought I’d buried, all threats I thought I had eliminated.
“These are bank transfers,” Waylen explained, opening a spreadsheet and highlighting transactions between numbered accounts. “Webster’s coven is channeling funds through these shell companies to support… this.”
He clicked open another folder containing research documents and chemical diagrams. I couldn’t make sense of the molecular structures, but I recognized what they represented. Everyone in this room would.
“Ripple,” Ryan said quietly.
“They’re working together,” Sam muttered, his eyes scanning the data. “Webster’s coven and Kane’s military group. Combining resources, expertise…”
I’d been worried Kane was involved with ripple but to join up with Webster? That escalated the threat he posed a hundredfold.
“Wait,” Carlito said, moving closer to the screens. His eyes narrowed as he studied the transaction logs. “These payment structures—some of them match patterns I’ve seen before. Back when I was tracking weapons shipments in South America.”
Sam’s head snapped up. “You’re sure?”
“Positive. Same shell company cascade, same routing methods through tax havens. They’re not just moving money—they’re moving equipment.”
“What kind of equipment?” Ryan demanded.
Carlito’s expression darkened. “Could be anything. Lab equipment, weapons, chemicals.”
“Show me,” Sam ordered, and Waylen switched to another spreadsheet with shipping manifests.
While Sam and Carlito dissected the data, I spotted a minimized folder of JPEG files. I reached past Waylen to open it. Inside were dozens of surveillance photos—people in various cities, going about their daily lives, oblivious to being watched. Just like Sofia’s photos from the cabin. The systematic nature of it made my blood run cold. Who were these people? Other loved ones of targets they wanted to blackmail? How long had they been planning this? How deep did it go?
“There’s something else,” Waylen said, his voice uncharacteristically grave. “I’ve been tracking the magical component of ripple—specifically how it makes users want to break their bonds. Remember when Seth, Mai’s douchebag ex, tried breaking her bond with Three Rivers? He couldn’t do it alone, but brought in a witch, whose spell nearly worked. That was our first clue.”
He pulled up more files, fingers flying. “Then Jase and Mai rescued Esme, our now kick-ass resident witch, from a ripple-making factory where they were forcing her to put the spell on all shipments. That confirmed our theory that ripple is a chemical compound requiring a witch to add a spell to each batch.”
Waylen pulled up what looked like a research summary.
“What Esme told us is critical—the spell can only be added at the final step. It’s labor intensive. Their supply is bottlenecked by having to station a witch at every factory, limited by how many spells each witch can cast before burnout. That’s slowed their production and made them easier to track.”
He scrolled down to highlight a section. “According to these records, they’re trying to streamline it. They’re testing a setup with ten witches in one fortified central location who capture spells in these.”
Waylen clicked on a file and opened an image on the main display. It showed a small, round metal box, about the size of a dollar coin and two inches deep, with intricate engravings around its edge.
I leaned closer to get a better look. “Is that even possible?”
“Theoretically. Witches have been working on spell containment for decades. If they’ve cracked it—if they can store spells in objects for later use by non-witches—it’s a game-changer.” Waylen’s eyes were wide. “Think of the potential. Anyone—human, witch, Shifter—having access to magic, from acne-clearing charms to mass amnesia spells. And witches could charge a fortune for these containers.”
His fingers moved over the keyboard. “The power balance between our species would shift permanently. They’d have unlimited resources and legions of humans, Shifters, and witches willing to do anything to protect access.”
Carlito twirled a pen, studying the box with intense concentration. “Break it down. How does this apply to ripple specifically?”
“Right, so, according to these production estimates,” Waylen said, opening a spreadsheet, “an average witch can cast the spell maybe two hundred times a day. Ten witches, that’s two thousand containers. They ship the containers out to the factories where a worker breaks the box over a shipment—which could be ten thousand pills—and the spell is effective on each and every pill.”
“They’ll up their production exponentially,” Sam said grimly.
Waylen nodded. “And it makes their operation much harder to track. No need for witches at each production site anymore.”
He opened another folder containing what appeared to be operation plans and media strategies. “They’re not just making ripple. They’re orchestrating everything—the attacks on humans, the media coverage, even channeling funds to human politicians pushing anti-Shifter legislation.”
Sam exhaled sharply. “They’re manufacturing a crisis. Creating exactly the kind of chaos that would justify extreme measures against Shifters.”
“The vaccination program,” Ryan said darkly. “The cities wanting to ‘cure’ lycanthropy.”
“But why?” Jase asked. “What’s their endgame?”
“War,” Carlito answered quietly. “They’re pushing us toward war. Create enough incidents, enough fear, enough division…”
“And humans will demand action against the Shifter ‘threat,’” Sam finished, his voice hard with realization. “Hell, they already are. FOX ran three segments last week about ‘Shifter containment protocols.’ The Post had an editorial calling for mandatory registration.” He slammed his palm on the table. “All while witches position themselves as the reasonable alternative—the saviors with their magical solutions to the ‘werewolf problem.’ Perfect timing for Webster to step back into the spotlight, isn’t it? Not as the monster who tried to enslave us, but as the visionary who warned everyone about us all along.”
“This drive contains proof of everything,” Waylen said, ejecting the USB and holding it up. “The entire conspiracy laid bare. Who’s behind ripple, the attacks, the political plays—all of it.”
“Which is why Kane’s so desperate to get it back,” I said. “Anyone who’s seen this information is a threat to their entire operation.”
Ryan straightened. “We fortify Three Rivers immediately. Call in every enforcer within a hundred miles, set up defensive perimeters, double our patrols. They want us? We’ll be waiting for them.”
“Can we count on Council support?” Carlito asked Sam.
Sam’s expression darkened. “I honestly don’t know who I can trust right now. Most of the Council are in Philadelphia meeting with human government officials.”
Right. I’d forgotten about that. Sam was supposed to be there, too.
Ryan turned to me. “Derek—”
“I’m going after Sofia,” I cut him off. “They’ll eliminate anyone connected to this USB. That includes her.”
“Agreed. Get her and bring her back to us.”
“And if Stone doesn’t want to give her up?” Carlito asked quietly.
My wolf surged forward, teeth bared. “Then he’ll learn what happens when you take a wolf’s mate.”
I turned and headed for the door. “Waylen, find me Stone’s location. Text me when you have it.”
“I’m coming with you. She’s my sister,” Jase said, stepping into my path.
I shook my head. “You’re needed here. Protect Mai and the babies. Help Ryan coordinate the defenses.”
“But—”
“Listen to me.” I gripped his shoulder. “If something happens to me—if I fail—Sofia will need you. You’re all she has left, Jase. She would seriously kick my ass if I told her I got her little brother killed.”
The fight drained from his face, replaced by something rawer, more vulnerable. His jaw worked for a moment before he spoke. “Just… bring her back, okay? She’s all I have, too.”
I headed for the door, mind already mapping routes, strategies, contingencies. I’d find her. I’d bring her home. And then I’d make damn sure Kane never got close enough to threaten her again.
Behind me, I heard Sam mutter, “Be careful, brother.”
I didn’t bother responding. Careful wasn’t part of the plan anymore. Not by a long shot.