Page 112 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
Hayes calls back before I can respond.
“Commander, we’ve got problems. The woman—Olivia—has been using a fake identity. Real name is Dr. Olivia Reeves. Used to work for Silver Ring, specialized in messing with artificial shifters.”
My knuckles go white on the steering wheel. Fiona trusted this woman, told her everything, treated her like family. Meanwhile, Olivia was feeding information back to the enemy.
“What about the college kid?”
“Dylan’s fake, too. Real name is Dr. Dylan Karros. Silver Ring researcher despite looking like he should be cramming for finals. Guy’s supposed to be some kind of genius.”
The pieces click together. They haven’t just been watching Fiona—they’ve been studying her. Every conversation, every detail of her cautiously built life has been catalogued.
“And Alex?”
Hayes pauses. “Here’s where it gets weird. Kid doesn’t exist before three months ago. But we ran his photo and got a hit. Real name is Alexander Thorne. Went missing from a Northern Kingdom facility six months back.”
My blood goes cold. “What kind of facility?”
“Place where they help artificial shifters adjust after rescue. Kid was one of twelve they pulled from a Silver Ring lab, but he disappeared during transport. Northern Kingdom’s been looking for him.”
Alex is an artificial shifter. Like Fiona.
The revelation has me shaking my head. How did I not sense it? I’ve been around Alex dozens of times, been in close proximity to him. Every shifter has a distinctive scent, an energy that others of our kind can detect instinctively. But Alex...He smelled completely human to me. Even now, thinking back to every interaction, I can’t recall the slightest hint of shifter presence from him.
“Are you sure about this, Hayes?” I ask. “The kid registered as completely human to me. No shifter scent, no energy signature, nothing.”
“Records are solid, sir. DNA matches, photographs match. He was definitely one of the rescued artificial shifters. And there’s more,” Hayes continues. “Kid was having problems—bad trauma from his time with the Silver Ring. Was supposed to get help but vanished before treatment could start.”
“What kind of problems?” I ask, my mind racing.
“Severe dissociation, episodes where he couldn’t access his wolf at all. Like his human and shifter sides were completely disconnected.”
I frown, trying to piece this together. Alex was an artificial shifter with severe trauma, unable to connect with his wolf. But that still doesn’t explain how he completely masked his scent from me. Even damaged shifters retain some trace of theirnature—a faint energy signature, a subtle difference in their presence that other shifters can detect.
But Alex registered as completely human. Not like Fiona, whose wolf was chemically dampened but still detectable underneath. Alex was...nothing. A complete blank.
How is that possible? What kind of trauma could sever the connection so completely that even his scent would be indistinguishable from a human’s?
“Hayes, you’re sure about the identification? No chance of a mix-up?”
“Like I said, the DNA match is solid, sir. And photographs confirm it. Alexander Thorne, reported missing six months ago from Northern Kingdom custody.”
I shake my head, still baffled. There’s something here I’m not seeing, some piece of the puzzle that would explain how an artificial shifter could hide his nature so completely. But I don’t have time to figure it out right now.
What matters is that Alex was a plant—damaged, traumatized, and somehow completely undetectable. Perfect for getting close to Fiona without raising suspicions. And from what the security footage showed, whatever they promised him or threatened him with, he changed sides when he saw what they really intended to do to her.
A damaged artificial shifter, alone and scared. Easy to manipulate, especially if they offered him something he desperately wanted—healing, wholeness, a connection to the wolf he couldn’t reach.
“Why didn’t all this come up when we first ran the security check?!” I demand.
Hayes is quiet for a moment. “You told me to run basic checks. They covered themselves. I had to dig a lot deeper and use their pictures to get matches.”
I gnash my teeth. “How long have the other two been working there?”
“Olivia started thirteen months ago, Dylan twelve months back. Both got hired right around the same time.”
My blood runs even colder. Thirteen months ago. That’s when Fiona first opened the café. They weren’t just watching her; they were there from the very beginning, embedded in her life from day one.
They’ve been planning this since the moment she established herself in this town. Every friendship, every moment of trust, every piece of the life she built so carefully—all of it was monitored, catalogued, and reported back to the enemy.
