Page 22 of Alpha Awakened
He’d never had much of a desire to visit Arizona and the surrounding southwestern states. As a school-age pup, he’d learned about the scourge that had almost completely wiped out the shifter population in this region. They’d died in massive numbers and at an alarming speed. By the time the disease had been identified and a cure created it had been too late to save them.
Learning that history, Hazard had felt immense sadness for his shifter brethren. But at that age he’d developed a fear of the southwest, his young mind assuming that if he came here, hewould get sick and die too. As an adult, he knew better, and of course he’d been inoculated against the deadly scourge.
Unfortunately, the southwest United States wasn’t the only region that had a decimated shifter population. In 1957, a few years after shifters had made themselves known to the human world, a group of humans in Florida had secretly plotted to hunt and execute the entire population of shifters in their state.
On a sweltering night in July, they’d carried out their deadly plan. Striking without warning, the group went after those they’d identified as shifters, concentrating their efforts in areas where shifters lived in small packs. Over the span of three days, they killed countless men, women, and even children.
The US Legion had been called in to put a stop to the violence. They’d done so and many humans were arrested and prosecuted for their crimes. Unfortunately, Florida’s pack majora, already relatively small compared to those across the rest of the country, had been cut down to a few thousand remaining members.
The pack majora of the Mid-Atlantic was the third pack to become a shadow of its former self. They didn’t suffer from disease or violence. Instead, they’d been steadily pushed out due to the human’s increase in population and loss of pack grounds. Most of that region’s pack had split off into small groups and found homes in other pack majoras. But just like in the southwest and in Florida, a small number remained.
The three decimated regions collectively came to be known as the shadow lands, as they were all a shadow of their former pack majora greatness. The shifters in the shadow lands lived scattered in small packs and were mostly removed from both human and the larger shifter societies. All three of the shadow land packs were represented by a single member on the national shifter council, as none of them were big enough to warrant having their own councilor.
These days, humans and shifters co-existed mostly in peace. Thanks to the shifter council, their kind had representation in the US government and rights and laws to protect them. But as Hazard continued to watch the streets of Mesa flash by, he was saddened by the fact that the shifter population in areas like this would probably never return to what they once were.
Hazard brushed off his maudlin thoughts on the worst parts of shifter history, and got his mind back on the mission. He looked up front where the major sat in the passenger seat. She looked calm as always. Hazard sat in the back, fully geared up and rifle securely held and pointed at the floor. Jax sat next to him and Ice was seated on the other side facing them.
The captain looked menacing and ready for the op in his all-black uniform and black wolf mask, big gloved hands holding his rifle in a relaxed grip. Occasionally light from a passing car’s headlights would wash over the alpha, briefly illuminating him long enough for Hazard to catch a glimpse of his dark eyes before they were hidden in the black shadows of his mask once more.
His Instinct still whispered that Ice was dangerous, but the whisper was faint and nearly drowned out by the hum of attraction that now buzzed under his skin for the captain. Thank Mother Wolf for blockers, otherwise the scent of his physical interest would be obvious in the confines of the vehicle.
“Approaching target three blocks up,” their driver informed them.
“Pull over at the next corner,” Ortiz directed.
The driver stopped where Ortiz indicated. Ice opened the rear door and jumped out, followed by Jax and Hazard. Ortiz was waiting on the sidewalk when they came around.
“Surveillance has Cortez in as of twenty-one hundred hours,” she said brusquely. “Ice and Hazard, you’ve got intelgathering duty this time. Jax and I will roll up Cortez. Comms on. Anybody has trouble, give a holler.”
“Roger.”
Hazard checked to make sure his mic and earpiece were on. Then, moving quick and quiet, they jogged the last two blocks and crept up on the center. Their all-black uniforms and gear blended into the night. The entire building was quiet and dark, a nearby street light casting a yellow glow over the white stucco exterior.
“No alarm,” Jax said before he used a punch tool to break the lock. “On you, Major.”
Jax pushed the door open then stepped back to let Ortiz go through first.
One by one they entered the center. His weapon at the ready and eyes sharp, Hazard swept the room. In the middle there were three desks with two chairs placed in front of each. Off to one side there was a comfy seating area. On the other side, a play rug covered a section of the floor. There were toys, stuffed animals, and bean bag chairs, but it was empty of people.
“Clear. We’re moving up.”
They went up a narrow staircase, to the second level where there was a cafeteria and TV space with more comfy couches. After quickly clearing it, they went up again, to Cortez’s personal living space. This level was small and cramped with a low ceiling. A short hallway had a door at either end.
“Bedroom is this way,” Ortiz whispered. “Jax, let’s go.”
“On me, Hazard,” Ice ordered.
The team split, Ortiz and Jax going to the right and Hazard following behind Ice as he led them to the opposite end of the hallway where Cortez’s office was located.
Ice slowly and quietly turned the knob to open the door. Hazard reached in and flicked on the lights. There was no one inside. He looked around the brick-walled, windowless room. Adark wood desk sat in the center with a beat-up leather chair behind it. A filing cabinet stood against one wall. A corner shelf held several potted plants and two big paintings in thin wood frames hung on either side of the room.
Hazard stopped in front of one of the paintings. A large gray wolf lay dead in a field of scrub brush, it’s body decaying. Vultures circled above and rats approached through the brush. The painting on the opposite wall was in a similar vein, depicting dead and dying wolves. Hazard grimaced. He was no art connoisseur, but he knew he didn’t like these gruesome art pieces.
“He certainly has a macabre taste in art.”
A closer look revealed Cortez’s signature in the corner.
“This is his work. What do you think it means?” he asked his partner.