The Tracker's Mate: Sunderverse (Mate Tracker Book 1) Ingrid Seymour (bts books to read txt) 📖

than tracking missing people. We had gone in together on a business loan and had big dreams for ourselves.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, gulping the rest of my cocktail. “Coming here was a terrible idea.” I set the glass down on the bar and scanned the crowd.

Rosalina cringed, apologetically. It was partly her fault we were here. Everyone who was anyone in the St. Louis area was here, which was why I’d let her convince me to come. We were trying to build our agency’s reputation among this type of people, hoping to gain some exclusivity. I wanted stability more than anything else. I was never sleeping under a bridge or going hungry again. I’d had enough of that thanks to Jake. I was done with being naïve. Helping others never paid off. Like my father used to say, no good deed goes unpunished. I had always thought Dad jaded, but now I understood.

Ulfen climbed on the podium and tapped the microphone. The guests’ animated conversation stopped immediately. He took a paper from his jacket pocket and spread it over the lectern.

Someone walked behind the podium. I blinked. Wait, was that... Jake?

Crap!

Was he here?

I craned my neck, eyes roving around. The man came out on the other side, and it wasn’t Jake, but one of Ulfen’s bodyguards, tall and broad. Another werewolf of lithe movements and impeccable posture, but not him.

Man, the floodgates must’ve really cracked open if I was seeing things.

Ulfen Erickson cleared his throat. “I want to thank everyone for being here. Without you and your charitable contributions, this project would not be possible. This morning, we broke ground at the location where Shifting Futures will be built. Some of you were there and witnessed the natural beauty that surrounds the area. The trees, the river that runs behind the property, the hiking trails—a lovely place.”

Many in the crowd nodded their assent, raising their glasses. As much as I hated the asshole, he was doing a good thing, helping young, misunderstood shifters function better in our society. I knew how hard it was to be different, to be called a weirdo because you had a supernatural talent. Though we all tried to live in harmony, regular humans simply didn’t get it.

Ulfen lifted a hand, gesturing toward the center of the room where the curtain hung from a suspended metal ring, forming a giant tube around the model.

“Behind the curtain lies the architectural scale model for our new facility. The design was a generous donation from architect Amy Kahn.”

Awed whispers went around the room. Ulfen brushed shoulders with some important people. Architect Amy Kahn did impressive work all over the United States, and I was sure it didn’t come cheap.

“Amy couldn’t be here tonight, but she sends her regards.” Ulfen smiled. “Anyway, you’re not here to listen to me prattle, so without further ado, I give you Shifting Futures.”

There was a pause, and everyone seemed to hold their breath, then the curtain dropped and the entire room erupted in screams.

A body was hanging by its neck from a metal cable, its feet a mere inch from the scale model, dripping crimson blood onto the tiny buildings. He was naked, and a word was carved on his chest in big, jagged letters.

WAR.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I was rifling through files, trying to keep last night’s events out of my head, but failing.

At first, I hadn’t recognized the dead man’s face.

It must have been the shock of seeing him hanging, or the blood, the people screaming and running, and Ulfen’s bodyguards whisking him out of the room.

But I knew the victim. His name was Blake Foster. He was Stephen’s bodyguard, a strong beta wolf the family trusted. The man had been Ulfen’s employee for over two decades, and Stephen had cared about him—maybe more than he cared about his father.

Who could have done such a thing? And why?

And what about the word on Foster’s chest?

WAR.

Tensions in the city had been running high for many years. Organized crime factions operated by different groups—humans, vampires, werewolves, Fae, mages, and witches—all wanted more control, more power. And wasn’t that always the rub?

The balance was precarious, constantly teetering at the edge of war, and someone had made a move to tip the scales. The question was... who? A name immediately came to mind: Bernadetta Fiore, the Dark Donna.

She was the most powerful vamp in the city, if not the country. She owned many legitimate businesses, and the authorities had never been able to pin any wrongdoing on her, but no doubt she and her people had their hands in every shady transaction that took place in St. Louis. Same as Ulfen Erickson. I was sure of it. The man presented a pristine front, but he was no boy scout.

Even disregarding the fact that vampires and werewolves were natural enemies, Bernadetta Fiore and Ulfen Erickson hated each other and constantly competed in their control of real estate, government, industry, and who knew what else.

Of course, the same went for all other factions. Mages or the Fae could have killed Blake, too. Maybe they’d done it to start a war between vampires and werewolves. It would be a clever move for sure.

Geez, what a clusterfuck!

I still kept wishing it had been a terrible April Fools joke. Yesterday was April 1st, after all, but that body was very real.

Gah! I shook my head. I had to stop thinking about last night. I had work to do. I checked the time on my phone. It was 8:00 AM. Rosalina would be here at any moment.

I continued riffling through files in one of her desk drawers.

Our agency was located in The Hill, a well-known Italian-American neighborhood west of downtown St. Louis. Rosalina and I grew up in the area, and we loved having our business here. Our small office was one of many on the block, a two-story narrow building with identical others on either side. On the corner, to our right, the office space stood vacant.