Son of a bitch, he was losing his damn mind.

It didn’t help that he was cranky when he first woke up anyway. He was downright uncivil when it was the ass crack of dawn and he wasn’t buried under his bedsheets.

By nature, Nik was a night owl, as were most of his pack members. He and his board of advisers held most of their business meetings at night, often going as late as 1:00 or 2:00 a.m.

Nik and Agent Asshole had been wandering around the woods for the past fifteen minutes, seemingly going nowhere. More than once, Nik offered—yeah, yeah, through gritted teeth, but hey, at least he was attempting to be polite—to just use his wolf nose to sniff out the body site. And every time, Chang insisted it was “just over here” or “he was just a little turned around.”

By a little, you mean miles, dipshit, Nik wanted to say but bit his lip.

Mostly, he just didn’t think the pompous ass wanted to lower himself to accepting help from a werewolf, but what the fuck ever. Captain Stick Up His Ass was going to have to get over that shit soon, because Nik was running out of patience.

Nik’s temper was nearing explosive levels when they crested a hill and there stood the crew, about half a mile away. “Ah, there they are,” said Chang, carefully making his way over to them. “I told you they were around here.”

Nik grumbled more expletives, too softly for the agent to hear, as they drew up to the rest of the crime investigation crew.

“Dyson,” Agent Chang barked, “give us a report.”

A young blond man with freckles and huge round glasses looked up, startled. “Uh, yes, sir!” He waved awkwardly at Nik, smiling a little. “Agent Nick Dyson,” he said in a voice that was slightly high pitched. Nik grasped his hand firmly in a quick shake, the kid’s nerves seeping into him. “Only, I spell mine with a C between the I and the K.”

Nik raised a brow.

“Um, right,” Nick with a C said, turning to the corpse. “I’m the guy that examines the victims at the crime scene. What we’ve found out so far is that she’s—well, was—a witch. A generalist, for the most part, with a knack for hypnotism.”

“Hypnotism?”

“Yes. A very niche type of magic. She went missing from Savannah, Georgia, about a week ago. Her parents had thought she’d run away with her high school flame, who was a drug addict and a loser. He was always trying to get her to use her powers for his benefit. You know,” he said, wriggling his fingers in the air, a gesture Nik took to mean “magic,” “hypnotizing drug dealers to give them all their drugs without paying for them so he could then turn around and sell them, or hypnotizing bank tellers to give them all the cash in the drawer or the manager to give them the code to the safe.”

“He gets it,” Chang said tersely.

“Okay, so,” Nick went on quickly, flushing. “What we’re thinking is that the doppelgänger must have either had prior knowledge of our girl here and sought her out specifically for her specialty, or it just got lucky by being in the right place at the right time.”

Somehow, Nik doubted it had just gotten lucky. This thing was cunning. It was totally the type to plan things out in advance.

So what did it want with a witch who had specialized in hypnosis, of all things?

“That’s just all speculation,” Nick amended, turning even redder and running a hand through his hair. Was it the kid’s first day on the job?

“So who’s the girl in my dungeon?” Nik said gruffly.

“Human, so far as we can tell,” Chang said. “We’re still waiting on a fingerprint match in our database and are performing other tests in the meantime. Doppelgänger possession has a way of screwing with one’s natural signature.”

No shit. “Is this all you have to show me?”

“Well—”

“I gotta take a leak,” Nik said brusquely, turning to walk away. Actually, he was fine. He was just overstuffed from their bullshit. Though the details of the witch in the woods were interesting, he found them irrelevant at this point.

What did it all mean? What the fuck was he missing?

Agent Chang grabbed hold of his arm. “Hold on a second. We need to show you something else.”

“It can wait!” Nik snarled, jerking free and rounding on the man.

To his credit, he didn’t flinch as Nik loomed over him, though Nick looked ready to shit his pants. “Word of advice?” Nik said, leaning in with eyes glowing gold. “Don’t grab a werewolf. Especially an Alpha. Ever. Got it?”

He turned and stalked off before they could stop him.

Not that they could. He wouldn’t advise it, anyway. He wouldn’t be held responsible if someone all of a sudden was missing a limb, and somehow, he doubted their health insurance covered “werewolf mauling.”

Or maybe it did. Hell if he knew. It was the DPI, the most secretive bunch of motherfuckers he’d ever met.

His feet automatically carried him toward the manor. The early-morning air was crisp; he filled his lungs with the stuff, relishing the freshness of dawn. The night had a way of washing away all the humidity, pollen, and dust that accumulated through the day.

And not that he couldn’t appreciate sunlight, but damn was it getting on his nerves this fine morning. Brilliant yellow beams cut through the tree branches, dappling the forest floor and spilling right into his eyes.

As he walked, the ball of worries he’d buried at the back of his mind began to unravel. He wanted to shove them all back, go to sleep, and forget about them. But he knew he’d only be procrastinating because there was so much shit to do, and it sometimes seemed an impossible task to see to everything.

Knowing starting was the hardest part of the battle, he gritted his teeth and decided to tackle what he could.

Starting with how the hell his border patrol had let that thing onto their land in the first place. The stench of Black Magic alone should have given it away.

He reached out with his mind to the farthest reaches of their property.

Perimeter one, check in.

He kept walking, waiting, and at last stopped when there was no response. He repeated himself and again got the silent treatment.

“The fuck?” he muttered, anger prickling just under his skin. Someone was about to get a first-class beating if he didn’t hear from them soon.

Perimeter two, check in.

Nothing.

The last command was more growls than intelligible words. Perimeter three, goddammit, you’d better fucking say something back.

Silence.

Son of a bitch.

Nik closed his eyes and concentrated on the signatures of his crew. He’d always had excellent memory when it came to sensing his pack’s paranormal signatures. It was a skill he’d regrettably developed when Malachite had been ruler. Since keeping Gage safe had been his number-one priority, he’d liked to know where his asshole of an Alpha was at all times. The more he’d focused on it, the stronger that skill had gotten. Now, he could usually pick up where his pack was if he opened his senses wide enough. It was a skill he’d thought about capitalizing on, by way of teaching other werewolves to do it… if only he could find the fucking time.

Throwing his senses wide open, he let the sounds of the forest, the DPI screwing around in his woods, and the distant highway traffic fade away.

With his breathing slow and deep, he focused solely on finding his guards.

A deep frown stamped itself onto his mouth, and his eyes flew open. “Son of a bitch.”

They weren’t even on duty.

With a growl tearing from his throat, he stormed toward the manor, plowing open the doors and stalking past nervous wolves as he made his way to the lower level.

Being composed mostly of men, the manor had a pretty large-sized man cave on its lowest floor. Located next to the gym, it was complete with wood-paneled walls, arcade games, several leather couches facing a projector TV, the latest versions of the Wii, Xbox, and PlayStation, shelves of movies and video games, a fully stocked bar, a bitching stereo system with surround sound, and, of course, pool tables. It was, undoubtedly, the most popular room in the manor. Before Gage had taken over, this whole area had been a second dungeon. Malachite had had it built when the first cellblock had become overcrowded. While admitting the practicality of having at least one place to hold misfits, Gage had torn out the second dungeon and started construction on a man cave. It had been finished shortly after Nik became Alpha.

Loud classic rock threatened to scramble his brain as he stormed into the room. There they were, the Moonstruck Pack’s finest, all gathered around several pool tables or camped out in front of the TV, stupid drunk.

“What the fuck is this?” Nik demanded.

They all looked up. Some scrambled to their feet, but for the most part they looked as if they didn’t give two shits that their Alpha was pissed off and standing in the doorway.

“Looks to me like we’re playing pool or watching some tube.”

Nik’s golden eyes flashed to the source of the smartass comment.

That cocky Southern drawl should have been enough to tip him off to who the commenter was.

Ralph Hixon. Accomplished hunter. About sixty years old but in great shape. Always wore plaid button downs, jeans, boots, and his John Deere baseball cap. He’d been a part of the Moonstruck Pack before Malachite had ever taken over and had been a werewolf longer than Nik had been alive. He knew the woods inside and out, often slept out there on the forest floor. Unlike the rest of the perimeter crew, who carried handguns, Ralph favored an old Marlin 336 rifle he’d kept since his hunting days. Said his father had given it to him, whose father had bought it for him as his first rifle when he was a boy and blah, blah, blah. It was one of those things. Ralph was emotionally attached to the damn gun, an object. As if Nik could talk. He fucking loved the shit out of his cheap-ass Wal-Mart grill, even with Alara subtly hinting that he could do better. Buy a more expensive grill? Yeah. Would it be better? Not necessarily. Not in Nik’s book.

Nik walked farther into the room, leveling all of them with a glare that blazed hotter than the surface of the sun. “All of you should be out on patrol right now.”

“But the DPI’s here,” piped up someone from the couch. On the TV, Gerard Butler roared, “Tonight, we dine in hell!”

“So?” Nik said. “Just because the DPI is here doesn’t mean any of you can slack off your jobs. This is still our territory, and we still have a pack to defend. Speaking of which, I want to know how that thing got through our lines.”

“Hell if we know,” Ralph said. “Not like any of us have ever come across a doppelgänger before.”

“You should have smelled it. Sensed its signature.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“Really?” Nik said dryly. “None of you noticed a damn thing was wrong?”

They all stared at him.

The inkling that something wasn’t right tickled his brain, but he swatted it aside. His crew was good. He’d hand chosen each one of these men because of their prowess in the woods. Nothing had ever gotten past them before.

So why now?

The mystery of the doppelgänger felt like one gigantic puzzle he couldn’t figure out.

Nik’s jaw clenched, his gums aching. “Get back outside. Now.”

“Why bother?” Ralph said, a challenge in his eyes. “It’s not like the DPI’s incompetent. They can look after the perimeter for a while.”

Nik lost it. He didn’t even have to think about it; he just summoned his power, his right as Alpha, to command the pack as he chose. Eyes ablaze with golden power, he said in a low voice, “All of you will go to your posts immediately and report back to me every hour, on the hour.”

The spines of every wolf in that room went rigid. More than one glare was thrown his way as they begrudgingly left the room, unable to resist their Alpha’s command.

Ralph was the last out. “Maybe there’s a little Malachite in you, after all,” he said over his shoulder. Murder shone in his eyes. Just before he turned his head, Nik swore he saw Ralph’s eyes flash silver, and then he was gone.

Once alone, with nothing but the silence to hear him, Nik sighed long and hard. His shoulders slumped forward, his head hung. He felt… broken. This job, this pack, these people—they were all sucking the life out of him.

Since when has a Johnson been such a pussy?

He could hear his father’s voice in his head, loud and clear. No son of mine is going to be a pussy. You go out there, and you fight. Don’t come home ’til you’ve beaten the shit out of that little snot down the road. The little snot being the neighbor’s boy who’d, along with his friends, been destroying what meager corn crops they’d had. One day, when Nik was a teen, they’d ganged up on him on his way home from school. Well, detention. Same thing to Nik. Nik hadn’t had a problem fighting back. In fact, he’d reveled in it. Still did, he supposed. But when one kid put a gun to his forehead, everything had changed.

He’d been scared shitless. All of a sudden, the possibility that he could die, that he could not be there to protect Gage, became very real. So he’d tucked tail and run on home after the beating. His father had found him in the kitchen, trying to wash the blood off his face and hands. Nik hadn’t expected hugs. He’d given up on that fantasy when he was six. And he honestly hadn’t been surprised when his father delivered those character-defining words.

Don’t be a pussy.

He’d left, gone back down the road, and finished what they’d started, even managing to steal the kid’s gun. Nik’s story of his first gun wasn’t as sentimental as Ralph’s.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Nik muttered aloud and walked out of the room.

The men he’d just sent back into the woods were nowhere near, their signatures growing more distant the farther they walked.

Well, at least that was one less thing to worry about.

Except the fact that they’d been so nonchalant about their duties worried him even more. He wasn’t psychic by any means, but he sensed some hardcore discipline in their futures.

Almost as an afterthought—which made him feel guilty as hell, because the witch had been so nice to them—he checked in with the doctor to see how Penelope was faring. Heath informed him that she’d taken off at first light in order to report what had happened to her Council.

Fair enough. He could respect someone who liked to get shit done. Though he still didn’t think she should be going poof or vanishing or whatever it was she did after what she’d endured the night before.

Ah, to hell with it. He was no damn doctor. And he didn’t have the luxury of worrying about her, ally or no. Penelope was a big witch, and she could take care of herself.

Deciding to check on Alara before resigning himself to his office and the pile of paperwork waiting for him there, Nik bounded up the stairs and walked to their bedroom.

Two fresh guards stood outside their door. Neither of them looked older than twenty, but they were built like linebackers. They’d joined the pack right after Nik took control.

One of them, a lad with dark skin, deep brown eyes, and jet-black hair, stepped in Nik’s path. “The Alpha Queen is sleeping,” he said, staring Nik down. Even in his Green Hornet T-shirt, he looked intimidating—for anyone but Nik, who stared at him.

“Do you see who’s standing in front of you?”

“Yes.” A split-second flash of silver.

Nik blinked several times. He needed his eyes checked. Tired as hell from all this bullshit, and tired as hell in general, he said, “Let me pass.”

“No.”

His jaw actually dropped. “No?”

“No. You cannot enter.” The other guard came to stand beside him, as if to give his buddy backup. Both of them stood there and stared at him, big arms crossed over their big chests.

Pushed past his limit, Nik growled, “Get out of my way.” He flung his compulsion at them, a direct order from the Alpha. Gage had always been too noble to use his right to command them. Nik, on the other hand, wasn’t afraid to hurt feelings and bust skulls to get something done, especially not where the well-being of his mate was concerned.

Though they resisted, the two moved aside, and Nik brushed past them.

He stopped.

Alara wasn’t in bed. And her signature wasn’t there.

“Alara?” he called, checking the room, just to be sure. He was so out of it today, he might be hallucinating that her signature was gone. He looked everywhere, even stupid places like the closet, the shower—hell, even under the bed.

Nope. His mate was really fucking gone.

On the verge of panic, he was about to shout for the guards when he spied a note sitting on the bed. The paper was nearly the same color as their comforter, hiding it from his view the first time he’d searched the bed.

His eyes flew over the neat script he knew to be his mate’s.

Couldn’t sleep. Gone for a walk to clear my head. Don’t worry, babe. Will be back. Love, Alara

First of all, she never called him “babe.” Like, ever.

“Lord Alpha.” Another wolf under his command stood at the open door. “There’s been a disturbance.”

Son of a bitch, did this never end?

He was already walking toward the door. “Where?”

“The garage. Old Man Wayne was attacked.”

Nik’s brows furrowed. Wayne was as sweet as old men came. In the years Nik had known him, he’d come to think of him as a grandpa. If someone had hurt him…

But his concern over Wayne paled next to his concern for his mate.

Where are you, Alara?

He wasn’t going to bother asking Tweedledee and Tweedledum outside their bedroom door if they’d heard anything. Since they’d kept insisting she’d been asleep, he figured they couldn’t have much more to offer in the way of information.

It didn’t take long to get to the garage. Wayne sat on a stool, rubbing his head.

Nik approached him. “What happened?” he asked gently.

“I… I don’t remember,” Wayne said, sounding baffled. “One minute I was monitoring the cameras, and the next, I was waking up with a splitting headache!”

“Easy,” Nik murmured, looking around. Well, fuck. Someone had done a number on their equipment. Yeah, he’d smelled the smoke and burning electrical cords from outside the garage, but he’d been more focused on making sure a member of his pack was all right. At any rate, he wasn’t happy about the roasted equipment.

“Anything missing?” he asked.

“Um, that blue Subaru BRZ.”

Nik paused. Of all the sweet rides in their garage, why the hell would someone steal that? It was a nice car, yeah, but compared to the Ferrari F12berlinetta…

A glint of gold from the floor, underneath the desk where Wayne had fallen, caught Nik’s eye. Bending over, he retrieved the item.

His breath stuck in his throat.

It was Alara’s pinky ring. It’s a stupid piece of plastic, she said in his memory, showing it off to him when he’d asked. Izzy won it for me at a fair. I wear it to keep her close to me, I suppose.

Alara had been here. She never took that ring off, not ever.

Realization slowly dawned on him. “I need to go,” he said, grabbing a set of keys from the wall and walking into the garage.

“Where?” a guard asked, following.

Nik unlocked the silver Porsche Panamera and climbed inside. “Don’t know. There’s something I need to do. See to it that Wayne gets seen by Heath.”

He closed the door and turned the engine, gunning it out of the garage and leaving the guy staring after him, scratching his head.

Alara hadn’t gone on a walk. She’d been taken or forced to go against her will.

Otherwise, why deliberately leave the ring for him to find?

It occurred to Nik that he should probably call for backup, but he decided against it. Gage had his own problems as His-Royal-Importantness. Plus, it would take him too long to get there. Sure, he could probably order one of his witches to beam him or poof him there. But Nik didn’t want to be a nuisance. He could handle this problem on his own. Nik smirked. Let his little brother sort out the rest of the werewolf nation’s issues.

His pack couldn’t be trusted. They’d made that abundantly clear in the events of these past few hours. Slacking on the job, pigheadedness, unreliability… things weren’t boding well for the Moonstruck Pack.

And that weird gleam in their eyes… he didn’t know if he was seeing things or if there really was something more to that.

Either way, he didn’t have time to get to the bottom of that now. He had to find his mate. Something was clearly wrong with her, and he would never in a million years leave her in jeopardy. He wouldn’t deserve a mate, or have the right to be called an Alpha, if he let something happen to her. He was barely able to keep the pack together as it was. The thought of someone new taking over just because his mate was killed—

Don’t think that way. Don’t fucking think that way.

She wasn’t dead, wasn’t going to die, dammit. Not if he could help it.

The Porsche’s tires squealed as he slid onto the highway and slammed his foot down on the gas.

It would be wise to let someone know where he was, just in case something happened. Reaching out to his Beta, Jared, through their pack-bond, he informed him of what he was driving and the direction he was going in. Alara’s signature was faint, meaning she was way ahead of him but not so far that he couldn’t tell the direction she’d gone.

Nik told Jared he’d contact him once he found what he was looking for and told him to keep an eye on everyone.

After Jared assured his Alpha he would do his best, Nik allowed himself to focus on the open road.

The silvery eyes, the doppelgänger, the DPI, Ralph—none of it mattered.

Right now, the most important thing on his mind was finding his mate.