Morgan had been wrong. Disastrously wrong. South and east only revealed more forest, not civilization. That assumed he still traveled in that compass direction. And followers of the Lord person hadn’t given up pursuing him. The daywalker had not been their last attempt at eliminating him. Morgan sensed the other wolf followed him. Whiffs of the other wolf’s scent when the wind changed alerted him to his constant danger. Morgan realized his adversary was a skilled tracker. His strategy of circling to position himself downwind of the other wolf worked only for a short while. They spent days like this, circling each other, in a constant rotation to be downwind of the other.

Morgan rested against his paws, letting his eyes drift shut if only for a moment. He instinctively ducked when bark exploded when a bullet impacted the tree above him. There was no way he could be seen, he was certain. The fallen branches provided excellent coverage. He waited. When another bullet shattered branches on a nearby tree, he knew the shooter couldn’t see him but was targeting by scent.

Morgan dropped his bundle of clothes on the ground and slipped from his hiding spot and ran. The sound of shots grew faint as he put distance between himself and the shooter. Counting on his pursuer tracking by smell and not visually, Morgan crossed a stream. He ran back and forth several times, pooling his scent into a dead-end for his tracker. Once his smell was concentrated in the small area, Morgan trotted in the middle the stream, following the flow of water uphill. When the creek thinned to a trickle Morgan rolled in the mud of the stream bed to further hide his scent.

The next time Morgan heard shots, they were ahead of him. Good. Keep the other wolf thinking he was behind Morgan when the opposite was true.Morgan approached the other wolf, who was currently in human form. Morgan crouched low, crawling forward on his belly. He didn’t want the other man to realize he was there or give him a chance to change. Wolf versus man was always easier, faster. As humans, shifters were strong but never as strong as in their wolf form. They also had all the weaknesses and frailties of the human body.

Morgan didn’t want a prolonged fight. He wanted a strategic strike, an opportunity to get this battle over with quickly, and return to the task of finding civilization.

Morgan watched as the man stalked passed him. In a single movement, Morgan was on him. He sunk his oversized canines into the back of his stalker’s neck. Bones crushed under the power of his jaws. The man dropped to the ground, twitched briefly, and went still.

Morgan stood over the body of the wolf-shifter, blood dripping from his muzzle. Something seemed wrong about this fight. It was almost as if the Japanese man hadn’t tried to protect himself. Either he was submissive to the point of not knowing how to fight or he wanted to die. But why?

Staying in wolf form became a necessity for survival. He tracked back to where he had left his clothes. Eventually he would need them again when—and if—he found civilization.

Nights were cold in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Morgan found shallow caves to hide in, to rest. It was easier to watch one entrance for danger than it was to sleep out in the open. Fortunately, Morgan had a thick fur coat to protect him. Without the ability to shift, Morgan in human form and dressed only in his suit would have been in grave danger of succumbing to exposure while lost in the mountains. Clearly, his concept of south and east were either not correct, or as he had started to suspect, he had not jumped into Lake Tahoe.

With no knowledge of his point of origin, Morgan could only hope he would cross a road or find a town soon. Morgan decided to head west towards the setting sun and downhill.

His nose twitched as he scented body spray. He followed the strong scent and then picked up the smell of a campfire. Morgan couldn’t safely approach a campsite in his current form. He shifted and dressed in the clothes he had continued to carry.

His suit was rumpled, blood stained, and torn. Morgan knew he did not look like a camper accidentally separated from his group. He looked like some moron who had decided to take a walk in the woods in a business suit. He ran his fingers through his hair, concocting an excuse story as he approached the campers.

“Hey, guys,” he said as he entered their campsite.

Two young men stared at him bewildered.

“Do either of you have a cell phone I could borrow?” He held up his defunct phone. “Mine’s dead.”

“There’s no service out here,” one of them replied. “You lost?”

“I am so very lost it isn’t even funny,” Morgan drawled, without a hint of sarcasm.

After introductions, Morgan explained that he had been driving around and got turned around. He had no cell signal and a rapidly diminishing battery. Then his car died. After a day of waiting in his vehicle for someone to drive by, he decided to start walking. He had been walking along the road, and clearly, his mind had wandered, because he found himself in the middle of the woods, falling into a shallow ravine.

Morgan continued with his story, telling the campers that when he tried to find the road again he couldn’t. He began hiking west and downhill. He let the young men think he had been out in the woods for two days and not the almost two weeks it really had been.

“We’re heading back in in the morning. We’ll give you a ride,” The taller of the two men offered.

“I would appreciate that.”

They rustled up a serviceable car blanket for Morgan to sleep under. It felt scratchy, but it was better than nothing since Morgan couldn’t transform for the night. At dawn, he helped them break down camp. He rode in the backseat of their jeep into a small town which consisted of a diner and a gas station. They had cell phone service.

Morgan held the borrowed phone, staring at the number pad in front of him. He hadn’t needed to remember a phone number since he started carrying a cell. It had been years.

He entered the only number he could remember.

“Mission Run, how may I assist you?” a cool even-toned female voiced answered.

“Remi, I need Remi.” Morgan’s own voice sounded hoarse even to himself.

“Who may I…”

“It’s Morgan. Get me Remi,” he growled.

“Morgan! Where have you been? It’s Jinx. Everyone here has been frantic.” The voice on the other end of the line was muffled as Jinx began talking rapidly to someone at the other location. “Are you safe? Are you hurt?”

“I’m safe at the moment. I’m not hurt.”

“Morgan!” a second, deeper voice roared through the phone. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Missing, Remi, I’ve been missing.”

* * *

Morgan sat at one end of the large dining room table, still in the same rumpled suit he had been carrying around since his escape from the helicopter. The formal dining room served double duty as a meeting room whenever business had to be discussed at the house. Remi, an older bearded man, in an electric wheelchair positioned himself next to Morgan. Shane, a large body builder type and Joe, a tall rangy man, were also seated around the table.

“Dante’s out on a job. He won’t be joining us.” Remi explained.

“What job?” Morgan asked. He figured everyone had been called in as soon as he had been located.

“He’s acting bodyguard for JoJo and her friends while they wreak havoc on Las Vegas for her bachelorette outing,” Remi explained.

“In other words, he’s hitting on all her friends then plans to abandon them and find some party girls.” Shane scoffed.

“For any normal trip, I’d agree with you, but this is JoJo. He won’t leave her side. He will hit on all her friends, that’s a given.” Remi explained. Morgan needed Dante in on this. He would just have catch him up later.

Morgan breathed out his nose. He was tired from his ordeal and his earlier phone call to Julia. He needed her to get in touch with Aventine, let him know what had happened, and see if he knew anything. Morgan also wanted extra security around her, in case whomever it was who had targeted him would try the same with her. She had argued she would be fine. He countered-argued they were already killing people, starting with his driver that fateful afternoon just over two weeks ago.

Morgan glanced between Remi, Shane, and Joe. “We’ve got daywalkers and wolves working for an unknown party. And Bryce Maplecourt, a human, has gotten himself into the middle of it.”

Shane blanched, noticeably flinching when he heard the term daywalker. “Are you sure, daywalkers? And who the hell is Bryce Maplecourt?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I killed the daywalker. There was another man. Wolf. Japanese. Didn’t say much, and I would bet even money he was a Smith. Japanese. I don’t even know if that’s a connection we can follow up on. ” Smiths were wolves who had renounced all family connections, loners. Typically, Smiths had delusions of grandeur. Non-dominants who fancied themselves to be leaders. He glanced pointedly at Shane. “Kept referring to their boss as ‘Lord’ and ‘Lordship.’”

“‘Lordship?’ That sounds entirely too familiar for comfort.” Shane said.

Morgan nodded. “That’s what I thought. Morgan nodded. We need to make sure our clients at Cyan Group are our friends.”

“Wait,” Shane stopped Morgan. “You’re working for Cyan Group. What does this have to do with them?”

“Cyan del Fuego is a daywalker. And Maplecourt works for her. I know him from the construction site. Fortunately, I’m certain I got out of there with him still not knowing what or who I really am. He thinks they picked up the wrong guy. He’s an asshole—a stupid, dangerous, egotistical asshole. I already have Dante doing some digging on him. I need to know what information he’s gotten so far. Why did he have to go with JoJo?” Morgan answered himself. “Because, Vegas.”

“No,” Joe cut in. “Because you were missing, and Dante didn’t trust any of us to protect her.”

Morgan sighed. “Okay. Look, Shane, I know you’ve tried to distance yourself from daywalkers as much as possible, I need you asking some old friends what they know.” Morgan watched as Shane clenched his jaw.

A vein pulsed in his forehead, as Shane visibly fought to control his emotions. “I’ll let Julia talk to the suckers at Cyan Group.” He shook his head. “I’ll make some calls.”

“Good.”

“I’ll get started on the Smith, see if any families we have contact with have a lost one out there. Anything else you can tell me about him other than his being Japanese?” Remi asked.

Morgan shook his head. “It’s all I got.”

Remi nodded. “That gives me something to work with.” Remi turned his chair and began wheeling out of the room.

Morgan clapped Shane on the back. “You got this, man?”

“Yeah, I got this. Don’t like it, but I got it.” Shane confirmed. “Good to see you back, my brother. This place has been in chaos without you. Poor JoJo. Thought everyone was going to demand she cancel the wedding. She actually wanted to cancel it. Everyone was doing the opposite, assuring her to go on with it, and you’d be home soon.”

“I’m not here most of the time. How could chaos ensue because I go missing?”

“That’s just it, man. Our alpha went missing. No ransom request. No notifications. No cell phone to track. No one in Monterey knew where you were. Nothing.”

They stared at each other for a long minute.

Shane shook his head, “Daywalkers. I fucking hate daywalkers.”

A slender, middle-aged woman, hair pulled back into a ponytail entered, passing Shane on his way out of the dining room.

“Morgan, I have a bath full of epsom salts started for you. I also pulled out a selection of essential oils. They are on your counter. One drop of each on your tongue, then hold against the roof of your mouth,” she began.

“Jinx, I’m fine. Merely tired.”

Jinx followed Morgan out of the dining room and up a wide grand staircase.

“I’m sure you do feel fine, but you’ve been out in the woods eating who knows what…” She paused, holding up her hands. “No, I don’t want to know. The oils just bolster your already exceptional immune system. Just as the bath feels good and is more psychological than physical for you, this is psychological for me.” She stopped. Morgan turned to face her. “Morgan, you’ve been gone. Everyone has been worried. Your family put up a good front, but they were almost frantic. And the staff—well, we’re really glad you’re safe.”

Morgan stepped down to be on the same level as Jinx and pulled her into a brief hug. “You take good care of me, Jinx, and you always have. You’re part of the family too.”

“Stop or you’re going to cause emotions I’m uncomfortable with.” Jinx declared.

Morgan chuckled. They continued up the stairs and into Morgan’s apartments. He had a three-room suite within the larger family home. Jinx pulled out clean towels, and laid out a dressing gown.

She paused on her way out the door, glancing up and down his tall disheveled form. “I loved that suit. I don’t think even the dry cleaners can save it. Want me to try anyway?”

Morgan shook his head. “No, I think it’s dead.” He examined the holes in the pants’ knees. “I don’t even think its salvageable for donating. You can have it burned once I get out of it.”

“One does not burn Armani. Put it in the hamper. I’ll take care of it later.”

Jinx closed the door behind her as she left.

Morgan was alone again, but home. He disrobed as he walked towards the bath, leaving articles of clothing in his wake. He hissed in appreciation as he sank into the deep tub of hot water. Jinx was right. He wasn’t muscle-weary; he was mentally weary. Physiologically he didn’t need to soak in a hot tub. His muscles were fine, changing as often as he had the past weeks healed any wounds or minor contusions. Sure he had been shot, but the bullet had gone straight through, and within a change, it had begun healing at an accelerated pace. Within three changes, it had scabbed over, and now it was nothing more than a pink pucker. A few more changes and he wouldn’t even have a scar. Morgan wasn’t muscle-weary, he was mentally weary.

Who was this ‘Lord?’ Why were wolves working with daywalkers? What were they doing with Maplecourt? What did Maplecourt think he was doing with them? Did this in any way have anything to do with Aventine’s DNA discoveries? Morgan leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes.

It felt like he had closed his eyes for only a few minutes, but Shane standing over him and the chill of the water indicated it had been much longer.

“Ever heard of knocking?” He grumbled as he sat up in the water.

“Yep, but it doesn’t do much good when you’re asleep. I’ve got intel.”

Morgan nodded, indicating his sitting room. “I’ll be out in two.”He exited the tub and tied the sash of a terry dressing gown around his damp waist and stepped into the comfortably furnished room where Shane waited.

“Remi has contacted Dante. Apparently, JoJo is anxiously awaiting a call from you.” Shane started.

Morgan nodded in understanding. JoJo was his much-younger adopted sister. Her single mother had worked for the Palatine family, and the family had taken them in and treated them as their own. When her mother had been killed in a freak boating accident, Morgan’s parents legally adopted JoJo. No need to change the young girl’s life any more than it had already been. Several years younger than Morgan and his sisters, they helped to raise her. Morgan treated her as a much-adored baby sister, and she treated him as a much-loved older brother. Morgan took that attachment seriously, and he watched out for her, her safety, her wellbeing, and her excessive spending habits. That meant having to call her while she partied in Las Vegas, gearing up for her forthcoming wedding.

“I’ll give her a call after you tell me what you’ve got.”

“Okay. Julia called back. Our friends at Cyan Group are definitely friends. Cyan herself is most interested in learning more about what we know about that Maplecourt guy.” Shane leaned back into the leather couch. “Apparently, she told Julia to play this one close. Don’t let on to Maplecourt that she knows anything yet. Looks like it’s going to get ugly for him. Julia also said Aventine is an egotistical ass. Not sure if that’s in response to her letting him know there’s a situation or a judgment call.”

Morgan huffed. “Probably a bit of both. What else?”

“Julia said Cyan recommends we follow up on Lazarus’s old coven. Pretty sure he’s the ‘Lordship’ that the guys who kidnapped you referred to. I’m already one step ahead of her there. I’ve got a contact, used to be in with Lucy. She’s in Santa Maria now. She’s got information and is willing to share. Only thing is it’s got to be face to face. I trust her, She’s a friend.”

“You didn’t call Lucy about this, did you?”

“No, and I won’t either. Not until I have real answers and it directly concerns her. Right now, all we have is speculation. She doesn’t need conjecture and what ifs. I don’t need to bring her in on this. And if I can help it, I never will.” Shane’s voice was rough with emotion and anger. It was clear he didn’t like the prospect of having to deal with daywalkers, and he wanted to protect Lucy from them as well.

Morgan nodded in understanding. Shane had a convoluted past and was dangerous when it came to daywalkers and vampires. Shane would protect Lucy with his life. He would only drag her into a situation with daywalkers if there was no other choice. “Okay, we can do that. How soon?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Shane explained.

“We can do that, but I need to get to Monterey first. We can swing by on our way out.”

“That’s several hours out of our way, Morgan. Can Monterey wait? We can call the job site and let them know you won’t be in for a couple of days.”

“We can leave a few hours early.” Morgan interrupted. “It’s not the job that I need to go see. I need to see someone.”