Chapter 2:
The Shadow Clan
Ethan
Pain ripped through my chest like claws tearing from the inside. I gripped the armrest of my chair, knuckles white, staring at the half-naked dancers twisting on stage. Their bodies gleamed under the red lights, moving in rhythm with the heavy bass. Normally, that sight would stir something—lust, distraction, anything. But not tonight. The pain was too sharp, too deep, and it came from a place I couldn't touch.
Dean sat beside me, jaw locked, eyes fixed on the same empty spot I was. He felt it too. That pull. That ache that had been haunting us for years. Our mate.
Many damn years of waiting.
I slammed my fist against the armrest, the sound louder than the music. "Fuck this," I muttered.
The double doors at the back of the club swung open. Rex entered, tall and broad, his bald head catching the light. He stopped in the center of the room and bowed low. The guards near the stage moved instantly, pulling the dancers away. The women protested, but no one argued when we gave orders. Not in Shadow territory.
"Rex," I said, my voice a low growl. "Speak."
He straightened, keeping his gaze down. "Alphas, all payments are in except for one. Widow Jenkins on Elm Street. She's asking for a few more days. Says she'll have the full amount by next week."
Dean gave a dark chuckle, flicking his lighter open. The small flame reflected in his storm-grey eyes as he lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, exhaled slowly, then rose to his full height, towering over Rex. "And you're telling us this why? She owes. She pays. If she can't, she loses something. Start small. A finger will remind her."
Rex nodded fast. "Understood, Alpha Dean."
I picked up my whiskey glass and swirled it, the ice clicking against the sides. I took a slow sip, letting the burn settle. "This isn't a damn charity," I said flatly. "She pays in blood or in full. Either way, we collect. Go."
"Yes, Alpha Enzo." Rex bowed again and backed out quickly.
Dean leaned against the table, smoke curling from his lips as he stared at the stage. He didn't look at me, not when the pain was this bad. He always hid it behind that calm, cold mask.
The door creaked again.
Vera walked in—long legs, red lips, perfume so strong it could choke. She made her way toward Dean, hips swaying like she owned the place. Her smile was fake, but she knew how to use it.
"Alpha Dean," she purred, voice soft and seductive. "You look tense. Let me help you relax. I can make you forget all that pain."
She dropped to her knees, fingers sliding to his belt.
Dean's hand shot out before she could touch him. He grabbed her wrist so tight her painted nails dug into her own skin. "This?" he said, voice sharp and low. "This belongs to my mate. Not to you."
He shoved her back hard. She fell to the floor, her skirt riding up as she scrambled away.
"Get the hell out!" he roared.
Vera didn't wait to be told twice. She bolted, heels clicking fast against the floor, the door slamming behind her.
I couldn't help it—I laughed. The sound came out rough and real. "Damn, Dean. You should smile more often. You scare people better that way."
He ground the cigarette under his boot, his eyes finally meeting mine. "Smile?" he muttered. "I'm done smiling, Enzo. This bond—it's killing me. We need our mate. Four years. Four fucking years of this pain. Where is he?"
I leaned back, lifting my glass. "Soon," I said, taking another slow sip.
The pain struck again, sharper this time. I felt it deep in my ribs, like a knife twisting. Dean let out a low groan beside me, clutching his chest. I knew he felt it too. It wasn't just pain—it was connection. Our mate was out there, hurting.
"I can feel him," I said quietly. "He's close. Bleeding. Breaking."
Dean's eyes darkened. "Then why are we sitting here? Rex! Get the cars ready. We hunt tonight."
Rex's head appeared from the doorway. "Yes, Alpha!"
But I raised a hand. "Not yet."
Dean glared at me. "What the fuck do you mean not yet?"
I stood, pacing the room, my boots echoing on the wooden floor. The club was silent except for the faint music now playing from somewhere below. Everything here—every block, every street, every dirty deal—belonged to us. The Shadow Clan ruled this city. Humans didn't even realize their monsters lived among them.
But this bond wasn't about power. It was a chain we couldn't break.
"Think about it," I said, turning to him. "The pull feels different this time. Human scent mixed with ours. That doesn't happen unless—"
"Unless he's a Mirex," Dean finished, his eyes narrowing. "Half-human, half-breed."
I nodded. "Exactly. And if he's one of them, he's hiding. Probably doesn't even know what he is."
Dean frowned. "Then what's your plan? Sit here while he suffers?"
"No," I said, grinning. "We'll find him. But we do it smart. Quiet. No bodies piling up unless we have to. The last thing we need is the humans sniffing around."
Dean grabbed another cigarette but didn't light it. His jaw tightened. "If I feel him in pain one more time, I swear I'll—"
"You'll what? Tear the city apart?" I cut in, stepping closer. "Relax, brother. We'll get him. But rushing will only scare him off. You know how fragile humans are."
Dean's mouth twitched. "He's not just human, Enzo."
I smirked. "All the better. He can handle what's coming."
He didn't argue, but the look in his eyes said enough. The pull was eating at both of us. The longer we waited, the worse it got.
The dancers slowly returned, climbing back onto the stage, their eyes darting our way. The music grew louder again, bass vibrating through the floor. I sank back into my seat, trying to focus, but the pain pulsed harder, steady and rhythmic. Like a heartbeat—his heartbeat. Weak. Struggling.
I felt Dean stiffen beside me. We both knew what that meant.
"Call the doctor," I ordered, my voice firm. "Tell him to be ready. If the bond keeps burning like this, we'll need him soon."
Rex nodded, phone already in hand, moving fast.
Dean leaned closer, voice low. "What if he doesn't want us?"
I turned to him, meeting his gaze. "He won't have a choice. The bond doesn't ask permission."
Dean's lips twitched into something between a grin and a snarl. "Good. Because I'm done waiting."
He leaned back, cracking his neck, his eyes glowing faintly under the red light.
The pull struck again, stronger this time. It ripped through me so hard I grabbed my chest. Dean's hand went to his heart too.
"He's hurt," I whispered. "I can feel it. He's bleeding."
Dean's breathing quickened. "Then we go. Now."
I stood, feeling the bond burn hotter, spreading through my veins. "Get the cars," I growled, every word sharp. "Tonight, we bring him home."
Rex didn't hesitate. "Yes, Alphas."
The doors slammed shut behind him as he hurried off.
Dean and I stood there in silence for a moment, both of us caught between rage and something we couldn't name. The music faded to nothing. The lights dimmed.
"He doesn't even know we exist yet," Dean said softly.
I stared at the empty stage. "He will soon."
Dean turned to me, his eyes glowing faint silver. "What if he runs?"
I met his gaze. "Then we chase."
The pain pulsed one last time—sharp, electric. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I knew it wasn't mine.
Dean's nostrils flared. "He's close. So close I can smell him."
I clenched my fists, that same wild hunger surging through my chest. "Then it's time."
Dean nodded once, a dangerous smile spreading across his face.
"We're coming for you, mate," I murmured.