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willingly served them shocked Stacy almost as much as their reported ability to have intercourse literally for hours straight) were some details about the raid that had taken the lives of her three friends. Details that had never been released to the public.

Stacy was shocked to read that the woman they were trying to rescue that day—Mia Baird, the Senator's daughter—had developed Stockholm syndrome in captivity and turned against her father. Without her actions that day, the Senator and the agents protecting him would still be alive.

Apparently, that wasn't the kind of news that the Alpha Control Division liked to see in the media. The version they'd planted for public consumption was that Mia Baird had been killed by her alpha when she tried to save her father by shielding him with her body.

Stacy tried to ignore her discomfort in learning that the Division had lied to the public, especially since Fulmer had hinted that there might be a position for her there after the successful conclusion of her mission.

Wake up, she scolded herself. The government had lied about Vietnam and Afghanistan and probably dozens of other conflicts, but that was way above her pay grade. The nation was in the midst of another historic crisis, after all.

Desperate times…desperate measures.

"You."

Stacy jumped at the sound of the deep, resonant voice. She'd been having a surprisingly interesting conversation with an auto parts smuggler around the fire when an alpha appeared out of nowhere. By the time she looked up he was towering far too close, just on the other side of the communal firepit.

Stacy could be stationed in this camp for a whole year and still never grow used to the alphas' powerful voices.

Or anything else about them.

The only redeeming characteristic she'd found in them was their respect for boundaries. The trading camp was set up in the back lot of the area's only bar, and the alphas never intruded on the betas’ space other than to buy and sell.

Until now.

Stacy's defensive instincts kicked into overdrive, and in no time, she was braced in the low ready stance she'd taught so many new recruits: head protected, chin tucked, knees bent with her rear heel slightly off the ground.

She wasn't certain that the alpha was addressing her, but caution around such a giant, unpredictable creature seemed like a wise move. Especially since the fire in his steely blue eyes gave her the impression that he wasn't here to buy a new alternator.

Still, she didn't want to overreact. So she ticked off the facts in her mind as she assessed the threat.

Seven-feet-four or -five (holy shit, he was even bigger than the rest of the alphas she'd seen), four hundred pounds give or take(he could crush her without breaking a sweat), those pale eyes full of intensity (why the hell were they focused on her?)

Stacy reined in her acute stress response with iron control, knowing she couldn't afford even the slightest mistake. She'd known when she'd signed on for this mission—or been drafted, to be more accurate—that its success depended on not raising suspicions.

That had been easy enough during the last six days. As it turned out, there wasn't much demand for medical supplies here in the Boundarylands. No one had shown much interest in her pills—everything from pain relievers to erectile dysfunction tablets. Fortunately, that left her plenty of time to observe and occasionally "accidentally" brush against an alpha.

Thank God, the serum worked exactly as promised.

So far, Stacy had seen little of the aggression and savagery she'd expected. In fact, the day-to-day life of an alpha seemed almost…dull.

They minded their own business. They conducted their trades with a minimum of conversation. When they did speak, they were so direct and terse that Stacy found herself wondering how one of them had managed to gaslight Mia Baird into destroying her own father.

At night, shouting and music poured out the barroom, leaving Stacy to wonder if their violent tendencies only came out when they drank—but so far, she hadn't witnessed so much as a single fistfight. Not even last night when she'd finally ventured into the bar in search of intel. Of course, all she'd come out with was a slight buzz and several awkward advances from the men in her group.

All of which was to say that Stacy thought she'd conquered any lingering fears she had about this mission. But her composure threatened to crack when she met this particular alpha's intense stare.

This is what all the training was for, she silently reminded herself. You've got this. Don't think, just do.

And it worked. As the auto parts smuggler melted into the darkness, Stacy swallowed her fear, held her ground, and continued her assessment.

Hair, brown, brush cut. Clothing, unremarkable. Flannel shirt and standard blue jeans. No, strike that. Jeans in that size were far from standard. Leather boots, size…hell, Stacy didn't even know if sizes went up that high. Small scar near left eyebrow. No piercings. Unusually attractive.

Wait—where the hell had that thought come from?

Until this moment, Stacy had felt no attraction to any of these animals. And God knew she was on guard for the slightest rogue impulse, having very recently learned just how horrifying the consequences could be if she grew careless.

"If you're looking for medical supplies, you'll have to come back tomorrow morning," Stacy said firmly. "I'm taking the night off."

If the alpha took offense, he didn't show it. "Who are you?"

Stacy blinked at the unexpected question. Hell, it sounded more like a demand. If this had been some guy back home, she would have told him to fuck off. But this was no ordinary guy, and she was far from home.

"Sorry, I thought it was obvious," she said, bringing down her tone in hopes of diffusing the situation. "I'm the one who has the medical products. First aid supplies, your standard medicine cabinet stuff. If you're looking for something else, I'm afraid I won't be able to help you."

Stacy tried not to wonder what else he might be in the market

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