Hello Readers!

How was your weekend? Fel and I are excited to share that Levi, book eleven in our Pecan Pines series, is almost here. If you enjoyed Chris and Jaime’s story, we can’t wait for you to meet Levi and Mason next!

Levi is a hunter by nature. As Pecan Pines’ most lethal tracker, he knows how to follow a trail, neutralize a threat, and protect what’s his. When packless shifters begin disappearing near the abandoned logging roads, Levi expects violence.

The last thing he expected was Mason. Living alone beyond pack borders, Mason smells like trouble and temptation. Levi’s wolf reacts instantly and possessively. Levi automatically offers Mason shelter inside the Pecan Pines pack compound.

What Levi doesn’t see are the lies Mason carries.

If you haven’t pre-ordered yet, you can grab your copy here.

Just a few more days until release day on April 30! Until then, here’s a little glimpse into Levi and Mason’s story...

Chapter One

Levi

I knocked once, then stood there with my hands curled into fists at my sides like I was about to be called into a fight instead of an office.

“Come in,” Cooper’s voice called.

I drew a breath and opened the door. Cooper’s office always smelled faintly of coffee gone cold and old wood polish.

“Take a seat,” Cooper said.

I did, perching on the edge of the chair opposite his desk before forcing myself to sit back properly. My leg bounced before I could stop it. I clenched my jaw and stilled it. This wasn’t my first time in his office, but it was the first time I’d been called in alone for something that felt official.

Gino sat to my right, already settled in. The old tracker gave me a brief nod, his mouth twitching in something close to a smile. If Gino was here, this wasn’t a reprimand. That helped.

Cooper leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, and I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. The lines around his mouth were deeper than usual, his shoulders tight despite the attempt at casual posture. Our lead alpha looked like he was running on too little sleep and too many unanswered questions.

“Thanks for coming in,” Cooper said. “Both of you."

My chest tightened. Both of you. A job, then.

“Yes, Alpha,” I said, the title still coming out stiff despite nearly a year here. Old habits from living packless died hard.

Cooper waved it off with a tired huff. “At ease, Levi. You’re not in trouble.”

That didn’t stop the spark of anxious energy from racing through me. If anything, it made it worse. I wanted this. I needed it.

Nearly a year ago, my family had packed up everything we owned and left the mountains. Years of isolation. Of being careful, quiet, unseen. We’d survived, sure, but survival wasn’t the same as belonging. Pecan Pines had given us that chance.

Having moved here first, Devon had found his footing almost immediately, slipping into the healer role like it had been waiting for him all along. Chris had practically bloomed.

Watching my younger brother stand tall beside Jaime after the dog show mission had been a mix of pride and something sharp and restless in my chest. He’d proven himself to the pack, and to himself. Now it was my turn.

Cooper shifted forward, elbows resting on the desk. “We received a tip early this morning. Anonymous call.” My ears pricked despite myself.

“About what?” Gino asked, calm and steady.

“A group of packless shifters,” Cooper said. “They’ve gone missing near the old logging roads outside Pecan Pines.”

The room seemed to narrow, air thickening. Images rose unbidden. Years of living quietly in the mountains, avoiding other shifters and always keeping our guard up.

We’d had each other, my family, but we’d known other packless shifters who didn’t. Wolves who drifted, and who slipped through cracks no one bothered to look into.

“How many?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Cooper’s gaze flicked to me, sharp but not unkind. “At least three. Possibly more. The information’s incomplete.”

“Who called it in?” Gino asked.

“Someone who lives near where the disappearances happened.” Cooper’s mouth flattened. “They sounded nervous. Claimed they didn’t want trouble. Just wanted someone to look into it.”

That set my hackles up. Anonymous tips couldn’t be trusted completely, but still, a lead was a lead.

“I want this handled discreetly,” Cooper continued. “Keep this incident to yourselves for now. We don’t need panic, especially not with the dog show incident still lingering in people’s minds.”

My wolf stirred at that, restless and alert. “And you want us,” I said quietly.

“Yes.” Cooper nodded. “You and Gino will lead a small team. Scout first. Track if you can. Interview the caller. Get eyes on the area and report back before escalating.”

Gino inclined his head. “Understood.”

I swallowed, adrenaline buzzing under my skin. Excitement and dread twisted together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Cooper leaned back again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve been in touch with our allied packs. Silvercrest. Thornebane.”

“They’ve reported similar disappearances,” Cooper went on. “Packless shifters have disappeared from places people don’t look too closely anymore.”

My stomach sank. “So this isn’t isolated,” I said.

“No,” Cooper replied. “And I don’t like coincidences.” Neither did I.

“You think it’s connected to the anti-shifter group?” Gino asked.

Cooper’s mouth tightened. “I don’t know. Not yet. But after the dog show, I’m not ruling anything out. Groups like that don’t just vanish. They go quiet. They adapt.”

My pulse thudded in my ears. I remembered Chris coming home bloodied and exhausted but unbroken. Remembered the way he’d talked about what they found in that isolated cabin where Jaime had been held.

Not just hatred, scrawled and impulsive, but deliberate anti-shifter propaganda. There were lists too, with locations, dates, and names crossed out like completed tasks. Communication logs that referenced “handlers” and “cells,” supplies that had been stockpiled and catalogued.

It hadn’t been the work of a single fanatic. It had looked organized, coordinated, and planned. Predators, my wolf whispered. A different kind than us.

I leaned forward, hands braced on my knees. “We’ll find them.”

Cooper studied me for a long moment. “I know you will,” he said finally. “That’s why I called you in.”

“You’re one of the best trackers I’ve seen,” Cooper continued. “You read terrain like it’s breathing. And you understand what it means to live without pack protection.”

Something warm sparked in my chest at that. “Yes, sir,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.

Gino glanced at me then, his expression unreadable but steady. A silent acknowledgment: You belong here.

“Be careful,” Cooper added. “If this is connected to the anti-shifter group, they won’t hesitate to set traps. And if you get a bad feeling, you pull back.”

I met his gaze squarely. “Understood.”

Inside, something fierce and unyielding had already taken root. I knew what it was like to be hunted. To live on the margins where no one noticed if you disappeared.

I knew the fear that settled in your bones when night fell and you realized there was no one coming if things went wrong. If someone was doing this, targeting vulnerable shifters, then I was damn well going to find them.

Gino pushed to his feet. “When do we move?”

“Tonight,” Cooper said. “Low profile. Pick your team carefully.”

He stood as well, and for a moment the tiredness fell away, replaced by the quiet authority of an alpha who refused to turn a blind eye to shifters in need, shifters who didn’t even belong to the pack.

I rose, heart pounding. As we turned toward the door, Cooper spoke again. “Levi.” I paused, hand on the knob.

“Bring them back,” he said.

Something in my chest ached at that. Hope, fear, and determination braided tight. “Yes, Alpha,” I replied.

The door closed behind us with a soft click. In the hallway, the pack house hummed with life. Laughter from the common room. The clink of dishes from the dining hall. Normalcy. Everything the missing shifters didn’t have.

Gino exhaled slowly beside me. “You alright?”

I nodded, even as my wolf paced just under my skin. “Yeah. I am.”

Somewhere out there, shifters were missing. They were probably alone and scared. I rolled my shoulders back and started down the hall, already mapping logging roads in my head. I was going to find them.

* * *

The old logging roads were barely roads anymore. They curled through the forest like forgotten scars, narrow and uneven, reclaimed by moss and pine needles. Fallen branches crisscrossed the dirt, and young trees had started growing right through the ruts where trucks used to grind past. There was no traffic or noise.

I slowed my steps automatically, letting my senses stretch. “This place hasn’t seen use in years,” I murmured.

Gino nodded beside me, eyes sharp as he scanned the treeline. “Which makes it perfect for anyone who doesn’t want to be seen.”

Packless shifters. Nomads. People who learned early that blending into the edges was safer than standing in the open. I understood that instinct too well.

Two other Pecan Pines wolves fanned out behind us, quiet and focused. Everyone knew their role. Gino took point near the abandoned clearing while the others began sweeping the perimeter for tracks, disturbances, anything that didn’t belong.

I hesitated, then turned toward the faint side path marked on Cooper’s map. “I’ll check on the caller,” I said. “You start here.”

Gino gave me a measuring look. “You good solo?”

I flashed him a grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Always am.”

He snorted. “Check in every fifteen.”

I nodded and headed off, boots crunching softly over pine needles as the forest closed in around me. The cabin appeared suddenly, tucked into a fold of trees like it had grown there by accident. It had weather-beaten boards and a sagging roof patched with mismatched metal sheets. 

There was no visible road leading up to it, just a narrow footpath worn into the underbrush. I slowed, lifting my scenting instinct before I even knocked. Old smoke and oil. Something sharp and clean underneath it all that made my wolf tilt its head in interest. I knocked once, firm but not aggressive.

Footsteps scuffed inside. A pause. Then the door creaked open a few inches.

The anonymous caller, Mason, peered out at me, eyes wary, shoulders hunched. He was younger than I’d expected. Mid-twenties, maybe.

He had dark hair and dark, wary eyes. His clothes were patched and practical. He had a lean frame. Mason reminded me of someone who lived light and kept moving even when he stayed still.

“You the one who called?” I asked gently.

His fingers twitched on the doorframe. “Yeah.”

“I’m Levi, a tracker from the Pecan Pines Pack.” At the word pack, his scent shifted. I held my hands up slightly, keeping my posture open. “You’re not in trouble.”

He hesitated, then opened the door wider. “Didn’t think I was. Just didn’t know if anyone would come,” he admitted.

“I’m glad you called,” I said honestly.

Up close, his scent hit me harder. Not wolf. Definitely a predator, though. Something sleek and small. A coyote, maybe? My wolf stirred, curious and alert, the way it did when it caught a rival’s trail or locked onto prey that wasn’t prey.

I had the sudden, absurd urge to lean in and scent him properly. I shoved it down hard. Do your job, I reminded myself. There was no time for distractions.

“I just need to ask you a few questions,” I said. “About the shifters you mentioned.”

He nodded, swallowing. “They were deer shifters. Four of them, all young. Early twenties, maybe.”

“Nomads?”

“Yeah.” His mouth twitched. “Didn’t stay anywhere long. They said roads felt safer than towns.”

I felt a flare of anger at that. At a world that made shifters feel safer sleeping in the dirt than asking for help.

“They came through here two nights ago,” Mason continued. “I gave them food. Let them crash here for the night.”

“You didn’t have to,” I said.

He shrugged, eyes flicking away. “Didn’t feel right not to.”

“What happened after?” I asked.

“They left in the morning. Said they were heading deeper into the forest. Old trails, away from the main roads,” Mason said.

“And then?”

Mason’s hands clenched. “A few hours later, I heard a gunshot.” The word landed heavy.

“I ran toward it,” he said quickly, like he needed me to know that. “I didn’t think, I just ran.” My wolf growled low in my chest, furious.

“When I got there, the campsite was empty. Blood on the ground. There were no bodies. No tracks I could follow,” he said.

I breathed out slowly, keeping my expression steady even as my mind raced. “Can you show me where it was?” I asked.

Mason hesitated, glancing at the forest. Then he nodded. “Yeah.”

We stepped back into the trees together. I kept my pace measured, aware of how close he walked, how his shoulder almost brushed mine. His scent wrapped around me in a way that made my wolf press forward, pleased. Protective. I didn’t understand it, and I didn’t like that I didn’t understand it.

The campsite came into view just as voices drifted toward us. Gino and the others were already there. Mason froze.

“Easy,” I murmured. “They’re with me.” I raised a hand. “Gino.”

Gino turned, eyes narrowing briefly at Mason before he relaxed. “Found blood. Drag marks. No bodies.”

I nodded. “This is Mason. He’s the one who called it in.”

Mason shifted again, clearly uncomfortable with four wolves now sharing the space. I angled myself slightly between him and the others without thinking. Gino noticed, but said nothing.

“We’re here to help,” I said firmly. “All of us.”

Mason’s gaze flicked between our faces. “Why?” The question wasn’t hostile. It was bewildered.

“Why go through all this,” he pressed, “for four packless shifters you don’t even know? This isn’t even technically your territory.”

I met his eyes and let him see the truth of it. “Because someone took them,” I said. “And because we don’t turn our backs on shifters who might need help.”

Something in Mason cracked. His scent spiked. There was shock and something like grief. I thought of his cabin, which was previously isolated but known now. A cold certainty settled in my gut. I didn’t like the thought of him living alone here, not when there was potential danger around.

“You’re not safe here,” I said quietly.

Mason blinked. “What?”

“If the people who took them come back, this place is too exposed,” I explained.

His jaw tightened. “I can handle myself.”

“I don’t doubt that,” I said gently. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

The words surprised both of us. I turned the idea over once, twice, then decided to hell with caution.

“Come back to Pecan Pines with us,” I said. Everyone stared. Gino’s eyebrows shot up.

Mason shook his head immediately. “I can’t—”

“Just for a few days,” I pressed. “Until we know more. You’ll be safe there. I’ll make sure of it.” His eyes searched my face like he was looking for a lie.

“I’ll personally keep you safe,” I added, reckless and sincere. My wolf surged, delighted and certain.

Mason swallowed hard. “I don’t belong in a pack.”

I smiled softly. “You don’t have to belong. You just have to stay alive.”

Silence stretched. Finally, he nodded. “Okay. A few days.”

“Good,” I said. “Let’s get you somewhere safer.”

As we turned back toward the road, my wolf practically purred. Whatever this was, whatever Mason was, I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.

As always, we’re so grateful you’re on this journey with us. Thank you for all your support, and we hope you have a wonderful week ahead.

With love,

Kara