Page 39 of Anders
Anders leaned forward, instantly alert.What did you remember?
Being small.Running through woods with other cubs,she said, the wordcubscoming naturally now.Playing games that were actually training—learning to track, to hunt, to move silently.
She paused, another memory surfacing.There was some kind of ceremony when I was about five?My first official pack gathering.My parents were so proud.
Moon ceremony,Anders said.It’s when cubs are formally introduced to the entire pack.
Etta’s throat tightened.My parents… They’re really dead, aren’t they?It wasn’t just a nightmare or implanted memory?
Anders’s expression softened with genuine sympathy.The fragments you’ve described—the attack, men in tactical gear—unfortunately match patterns of hunter attacks from years ago.
Hunters?The term sparked something—a half-remembered warning whispered by her mother.Beware the hunters.They don’t understand what we are.
Humans who know about shifters and consider us abominations.Anders’s tone turned grim.Most humans don’t know we exist, but occasionally someone discovers the truth.Some form militant groups dedicated to wiping us out.
And you think people like that killed my parents?But why take me?Why not kill me too?
Anders’s expression darkened.That’s what doesn’t fit the usual pattern, as far as I know.Hunters typically don’t take prisoners, and they definitely don’t conduct experiments.He shook his head.This organization—whatever it is—seems to have more sophisticated goals than simple extermination.
The clinical analysis should have felt cold, but Etta found Anders’s straightforward approach oddly comforting.He wasn’t sugarcoating the horror of what had happened to her, but neither was he wallowing in it.He was treating it as a problem to be solved—and somehow, that made it more manageable.
Like a news story about atrocities, she thought.Taking a clinical approach sometimes made it more bearable.
I want to go to the newspaper office,she said suddenly.There were files in the basement—old articles about missing children, strange incidents.Maybe they can tell us something about what happened to me…and if there were others.
Anders hesitated, clearly weighing security concerns against her need to investigate.
Okay,he finally agreed.But we stay together, and at the first sign of trouble, we leave.I’m not risking you being compromised again.
The protectiveness in his voice sent warmth blooming through her chest.She nodded her agreement, then rose to prepare for the day.
THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE WASexactly as they’d left it—the door still unlocked, papers still scattered across the basement floor from her seizure.
Anders moved through the space, checking corners and sight lines before giving her the all-clear.
Etta knelt by the pile of old newspapers she’d been reading when the memories had overwhelmed her.
Here,she said, carefully extracting a yellowed clipping.This is what triggered the memory cascade.
Anders crouched beside her, close enough that his warmth radiated against her side.The article headline readLOCAL CHILDREN MISSING—ANIMAL ATTACK SUSPECTED.
1987,Anders noted, scanning the text.Three children disappeared from the Piñon Mesa area over a six-month period.No bodies ever recovered.
A certainty formed in Etta’s gut.These weren’t random disappearances—they were targeted abductions of shifter children.
She rifled through more papers, pulling out several more articles spanning decades.
Look at the pattern,she urged.Every few years, children go missing in rural areas with known pack territories.Always attributed to animal attacks or running away.Always without bodies ever being recovered.
Anders’s expression grew increasingly grim as he examined the articles.This goes back further than I thought.Whatever organization is behind this has been operating for decades.
Etta reached for another folder but stopped abruptly, her gaze catching on something embedded in the corner of the filing cabinet.A small metallic object, no bigger than a button, nestled between metal seams.
Anders,she whispered, pointing.
He followed her gesture, his body instantly tensing.Moving with silent precision, he examined the device without touching it.
Surveillance,he confirmed in a barely audible voice.Not mine.
