“I—yeah. I mean, I’m fine. I just…” He scratches the back of his neck, then finally meets my eyes. “I found something yesterday. At the gym. In the locker room."
Alex leans back in his chair, raising both eyebrows. “It’s a little early for confessions about locker room hookups,” he snorts.
Dakota flips him off automatically, but there’s no real heat in it.
Tadeo gives Alex a pointed look. “Don’t joke. Go on, Dakota.” He reaches out, rubbing his upper back.
“Talk to me, beta.” I set down my empty mug, waiting.
Dakota swallows, then finally pulls something out of his hoodie pocket—a single sheet of paper, bright orange and a little crumpled.
He hands it to me, and I unfold it.
The flier has bold blocky lettersacross the top:
The Morder
and beneath that, in smaller text:
Discreet. Untraceable. Unregulated. Everything you’re looking for in a mate…and everything you’re not.
There’s a QR code printed in the bottom corner, partially smudged like someone tried to rub it off. The whole thing smells faintly of iron and industrial cleaner, and there’s a reddish stain along the top edge. Blood splatter?
“This was in the locker room at the gym?” I ask.
“In the bathroom stall,” Dakota says. “Taped to the back of the toilet tank. I saw the edge of it while I was pissing. Someone clearly didn’t want it to be easy to find.”
Alex leans in, all trace of amusement draining from his face. “Did you scan the code?”
Dakota shakes his head. “I didn't want to do it on my phone. Figured if it was a trick, it might ping something...bad.” He shrugs, not sure.
I stare down at the flier, unease twisting with curiosity in my gut. That name—The Morder—isn’t unfamiliar. I’ve heard it talked about many times from alphas who didn’t have a chance in hell at getting a mate…and yet somehow did.Alphas like me and Alex.
“Get my burner,” I say.
Alex is already moving. The table jolts as he stands, sending a few pieces of unopened mail slipping onto the floor. He returns a moment later, work phone in hand, eyes locked on mine.
Tadeo watches carefully. “Do you think it’s safe to scan?”
“It’s a secure line,” I reply, already unlocking the phone. “If it tries to install a virus or something like that, I’ll know.” I lift it and scan the code.
It loads almost instantly.
A simple, low-res map appears on the burner’s screen. Mostly forested territory. No town names. No roads labeled. Just a red pin, blinking in the middle of nowhere, tucked up near the northern edge of the territory line. Too clean. Too intentional.
I tap the pin.
A single phrase appears:
Follow the orange markers.
That’s it.
No phone number. No point of contact. No fancy branding or secure verification. Just a red dot in the woods and cryptic instructions.
My stomach tightens, and for a second, all I can do is stare at it.
This might really be it.
