Page 52 of Anders
Her last conscious thought before darkness claimed her was a name—her real name.
Eliana Thornwood.
Not an asset.Not a weapon.A wolf shifter with a pack, a home, a history.
And if she survived this night, she would reclaim everything that had been stolen from her.
Starting with my freedom.
CHAPTER 12
THE COMMAND CENTER HUMMEDwith the quiet pulse of technology—monitors displaying surveillance feeds, the soft whirr of cooling fans, the occasional ping of perimeter sensors reporting all-clear.
Anders had spent the past hour methodically scanning each screen, searching for anomalies, evidence of unwanted observers.
His heightened senses registered the subtle shift in air pressure seconds before the door opened.Malcolm.The scent of his alpha reached him first—desert wind, sage, pine, authority.
You look like hell,Malcolm said, leaning against the doorframe.
Anders didn’t look up from the monitors.I appreciate the assessment.
When did you last sleep?
Sleep is overrated when there are hostiles in our territory.Anders tapped a key, switching feeds to the eastern perimeter.His eyes narrowed as he spotted movement—too deliberate to be an animal, too precise to be a casual hiker.
Malcolm moved closer, studying the screen.Setting up now?
I suspect they never left.Anders zoomed in, capturing the image of a figure in what appeared to be standard hiking gear—except for the military-grade tactical boots and the subtle earpiece nearly hidden by the man’s hair.This is the third one I’ve spotted today.They’re establishing a surveillance perimeter.
Around the entire territory?
Anders nodded grimly.And getting bolder.This one’s inside our boundary line.
Malcolm’s jaw tightened.We should organize a patrol, show them—
No.Anders swiveled in his chair to face the alpha directly.That’s exactly what they want—to gauge our response protocols, our numbers, our patterns.
So we do nothing?Malcolm’s frustration colored his usual scent.
We observe.We document.We prepare.Anders turned back to the screens.I’ve mapped eight observation posts so far.They’re systematic, professional.Military or paramilitary.
Malcolm was silent for a moment, absorbing the implications.The council needs to know about this.
I’ve prepared a report.Anders indicated a file on the desk.But there’s more.
Malcolm picked up on the sudden soaring of his pulse immediately.
This is about Etta,the alpha said, not a question.
Anders nodded once, his eyes still fixed on the screen.The mark on her neck is more sophisticated than we initially thought.It’s not only a tracking device or neural interface.It’s a control mechanism—designed specifically for shifters.
Based on what evidence?
Anders clicked open a file on another monitor.A three-dimensional model of Etta’s neck appeared, with the mark highlighted in red, tendrils of color extending down her spine and up into her brain stem.
I captured this using the medical imaging equipment in the clinic.
What the hell is that?It looks…alien.
