Void stalker, p.31
Stronger Than Fate (Fangs & Felons Book 4), page 31
BLURB
In the covert world of espionage, trust is a precious commodity with deadly consequences. Leading the Infiltration Tactical Unit, I’ve always relied on my instincts, careful planning, and my team. Now, hunted by the very agency I once served I’m reluctantly forging an alliance with Ethan Wilder, a bear shifter whose gruff exterior belies a sharp intellect and unwavering loyalty.
No matter where I turn, Wilder is there—infuriatingly competent, irresistibly attractive. Despite my reservations, I can’t ignore the undeniable connection between us. Nor the fact that we’re trapped in a cabin with just one bed. With the SICB tightening its grip, Ethan becomes not just an asset, but integral to helping me keep everything from falling apart; he’s also possibly our only hope of bringing down Hornell, our elusive nemesis.
As our mission escalates, Ethan’s steadfast support stops me from imploding as the secrets of my past start to unravel, threatening everything I've fought to protect. Amidst looming danger, with my team beside me and Ethan at my back, I must confront the shadows before they consume us all.
Trigger Warnings: scenes of torture, mention of past emotional abuse, discussion of mental illness
As a paranormal world, many, many, many liberties have been taken with the settings and worldbuilding.
PRAISE FOR BECCA SEYMOUR
Good guys, bad guys, twists, it's all there. Add in the excellent writing and general storytelling, and all you have to do is wrap it up in a bow.
JERRI, AMAZON REVIEW
So many heart-pounding surprises and intense reveals!
DEVOTED❤️READER
Such a great urban fantasy series!
AMAZON REVIEW
For snarky relationships and those people who know how to support you without even needing to ask.
STRONGER THAN FATE
FANGS & FELONS
BOOK 4
BECCA SEYMOUR
RAINBOW TREE PUBLISHING
ALSO BY BECCA SEYMOUR
Zone Defense
No Take Backs | No More Secrets | No Wrong Moves | No Backing Down
Fast Break
Rules, Schmules! | Facts, Smacts! | Regular Smegular! | Easy, Schmeasy!
True-Blue
Let Me Show You | I’ve Got You | Becoming Us | Thinking It Over | Always For You | It’s Not You | Our First & Last | Next For Us
Outback Boys
Stumble | Bounce | Wobble
Fangs & Felons
Thicker Than Water | Weaker Than Instinct | Brighter Than Fear | Stronger Than Fate
Stand-Alone Contemporary
Not Used To Cute | High Alert | Realigned | Amalgamated | Under the Blazing Stars | Best Kind of Awkward | Tastes Like Sugar
Stronger Than fate © 2024 by Becca Seymour
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
NO AI/NO BOT. Becca Seymour does not consent to any Artificial Intelligence (AI), generative AI, large language model, machine learning, chatbot, or other automated analysis, generative process, or replication program to reproduce, mimic, remix, summarize, or otherwise replicate any part of this creative work, via any means: print, graphic, sculpture, multimedia, audio, or other medium. Becca Seymour supports the right of humans to control their artistic works.
Stronger Than Fate is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
For information, contact the author: hello@beccaseymour.com
Editing: Hot Tree Editing
Cover Designer: BookSmith Design
Publisher: Rainbow Tree Publishing
E-book ISBN: 978-1-922679-80-2
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-923252-11-0
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Becca Seymour
CHAPTER 1
LUCAS
The explosion vibrated around the room with a deafening roar. The walls shook. A painting rattled. My usually slow-beating heart raced as I clenched my fists, the noise growing louder with each passing second.
The tightening of my fists was the only thing keeping me in check. That and the counting in my head.
I’d lost track of how many times I’d tried to count to ten.
Another boom and my patience snapped.
“Seriously, Wilder. Switch it off or put on those damn headphones.”
The explosion echoed again. This time the bottle on the table rattled.
One. Two. Three—
A loud scream pierced the air. That of a soldier losing a limb.
That was exactly what was going to happen to Ethan bloody Wilder if he didn’t heed my warning and switch off the damn game. My patience was paper-thin. Hell, it had a BMI less than that.
What the hell was thinner than tissue paper beyond my patience and nerves?
“Wilder.” It was rare that I growled. Even rarer that my fangs extended. The itch in my gums warned me they were close to the surface, eager to tear out the bear’s throat.
I’d drain him dry, and beyond the slurps and the sound of me stamping on the gaming device, nothing but the beautiful sound of a slowing heartbeat would be my soundtrack.
Maybe then I’d be able to get on with figuring out where Hornell was—the former captain who remained the annoying thorn in my side at the top of the Supernatural Investigation Crime Bureau’s Most Wanted list.
That and I’d make the bullshit warrants out on me and my team in the Infiltration Tactical Unit disappear. Though not without taking the heads of the corrupt individuals who’d allowed it to happen.
For a vampire, I wasn’t usually so bloodthirsty—ironic for sure—but I still hadn’t decided if I would do that metaphorically or if I would put them in the ground.
If Callen, my division leader, had his way, it would be the latter.
The sound of blood splattering against the screen with a dramatic grunt of an alien being wounded by a spray of bullets finally did it.
In four strides, I reached the plug socket and yanked the lead.
Exquisite silence.
Which lasted for barely a second before Wilder pounced out of the chair, the movement fast and completely at odds with his huge bulk.
“The fuck you do that for, tosser?”
Angling my head up to stare him dead in the eyes, I huffed out a frustrated breath. “I can’t think with all the stupid blasting. You have a headset. Use it.”
“I would, but I need to listen out for intruders as well.”
“All you had to do was turn the volume down, and we wouldn’t have a problem. You’re being an inconsiderate arsehole.” Any semblance of calm disappeared. My voice shook, my anger vibrating under my skin.
“It was the only way to block out your pacing and heavy breathing,” Wilder spat.
“Heavy breathing?!” I shouted incredulously. What the ever-loving fuck? “I breathe once a minute, if that, you ignoramus. And I’m hardly pacing.”
Admittedly, I may have been pacing a little, but it was day three of us being trapped together in one of my safe houses outside Brisbane.
We were holed up in the residence I had on Tamborine Mountain. It provided good coverage surrounded by rainforest and had plenty of boltholes and numerous exits should the need arise.
But rather than Wilder being grateful for the safe house or the well-stocked fridge I’d organised or even the comfortable king-size bed that easily supported his giant frame, he grumbled and complained like being here was a hardship.
I clenched my jaw, staring daggers at him.
A hardship would have been me abandoning him at the private airstrip just south of Brisbane and leaving him to fend for himself in a foreign-to-him country with a warrant out for him to be taken into custody for questioning by the bureau.
“Puh-lease.” The word was all derision. “You’re practically wearing a hole in the floorboards while you’re huffing and puffing. You’re even mumbling to yourself.” Wilder’s shoulders eased a fraction, and the barest of smiles appeared on his lips. He angled forwards, a full-on smirk on his face that was all menace and enjoyment as he aimed to get a rise out of me.
I knew what the arsehole was attempting.
“How old did you say you were again? Maybe you’re finally losing the plot. I’ve heard stories about old vampires losing their marbles. I’ll get you a chain you can rattle if you want to keep pacing.”
“That’s ghosts.” My lip curled into a sneer.
It was hard not to bite. Not to push back like I knew he wanted.
&nb sp; The flip in him—the switch from reactive anger to him goading me, looking for a fight—wasn’t the first over the past three days. Hell, it’d happened even before that, when we’d been at Hart’s place.
The urge to give Wilder what he wanted, to react to the aggression he craved, burned deep in my gut. Not a chance I’d give him that satisfaction. Not only because he was pissing me off, but also because this house had cost a small fortune to kit out to my specs.
The thought was the reminder I needed.
I refused to buckle. I wasn’t here to babysit or play games with Wilder and his grizzly’s instincts.
What we needed was to clear our names, shut down the bullshit case against my team, and put Hornell behind bars or in the ground. It was rare I opted for the latter, but the growing body count Hornell was responsible for and, quite frankly, the abhorrent experimentation and projects he fronted meant his death would be justly deserved.
“Ghosts, huh? Really?”
Bloody hell. Why did I even respond to “correct” him? Talk about allowing myself to be dragged in.
I worked hard at relaxing my tight muscles, when what I wanted to do was close my eyes, throw my head back, and cuss him out. Perhaps beg for divine intervention. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he rattled me.
With the exception of tearing the plug from the wall socket.
I had my limits.
Focussing on getting my composure back, I stepped towards the workstation, saying, “Did you get the information you were looking for?” I sort of kept the bite from my question.
Working in the back office, I’d been neck deep in calls on a secure line to Callen, the SICB division leader and my friend. We’d been discussing more sensitive details about past ITU cases that Wilder most definitely didn’t have the clearance for.
Not that he had any clearance.
Hell, neither did I, for that matter, since I was underground, staying clear of the SICB agents instructed to bring me and my unit in.
Thankfully, Callen’s name wasn’t attached to any of the leaked files—nor the bullshit ones. While he used to be a part of the team, his appointment to division leader happened over two years ago. The files making their rounds didn’t appear to go back that far. It was a stroke of luck that he maintained his position and was able to act as our eyes and ears while the rest of the team were scattered around Australia, hiding out.
“I’m just waiting for a contact to get back to me. I took a break to clear my head.”
I bit my tongue from making a snide remark about the noise and sat down, my back to him.
“It looks like your team’s files made it to the ShadowNet before Hart was able to take it down.”
I froze, stomach bottoming out. Turning slowly, I faced him. “What?”
“I said—”
I frowned and shook my head, cutting him off. Making zero attempts at keeping the bite out of my tone, I snapped, “I know what you said. I’m just wondering why you’re only telling me this now.”
This man was going to be the death of me.
That he would sit on crucial information that put my team at risk while he indulged in mindless gaming was beyond frustrating.
Once again, my gums itched. As did my trigger finger.
Staring at me, seeming completely unaffected, Wilder didn’t even offer a shrug.
“Just to be clear. You discovered this information yet decided to play a stupid fucking game instead?” I seethed, my hands clenching at my sides. “There are some serious fucking consequences, not only to my team but also their families. Lives could be ruined or taken because you prioritised playing over having a simple conversation with me.”
Not even a flicker of remorse registered in his gaze. “Gaming helps me think. My brain needed a rest while I figured out the best course of action.” His unrepentant voice, almost at the point of monotone, simply fuelled my frustration.
Dead. He was going to be the deadest bear that ever died.
“Think?” The vein in my temple throbbed. “Think?” My voice rose. Putting my claws around his thick neck would be beyond satisfying. “While our entire operation hangs by a thread, you were thinking by blowing shit up?”
“Killing aliens, actually.” This time, a one-shouldered shrug punctuated his words.
Turning my back to him, I paced, trying to contain the rage bubbling inside me. “You know what? I’ll handle damage control. You just go back to your precious game.”
“You’re so dramatic. Geez.” An over-the-top sigh escaped him.
Me? Dramatic?
Okay, so I was admittedly close to tearing his head off, but while he may have no allegiances or responsibility, I did.
Heck, that pretty much summed up my life. My whole existence.
The vein in my temple pulsed, my headspace struggling to find room for all that needed to be done.
“That’s the information I’m waiting for from my contact. They’re providing some coding that will allow me to not only pull the data but also track who’s accessed it,” Ethan said.
I stopped short, my focus returning to him as he continued to speak.
“You know how impossible that should be, right?”
Shit, I really did.
All my fight evaporated. “You have a contact who can do that?”
“Yes.” A smug smile made its way to his lips.
The expression caught my attention. Did I want to smack the smile from his face? Hell yes. But it wasn’t lost on me that, self-satisfied or not, it was the first time I’d seen a smile reach his eyes.
The move somehow brightened his dark brown eyes, shaking away the deep, pissed-off intensity that was usually present. The flash of his white teeth contrasted sharply against the unruly beard that framed his jawline, making him appear frustratingly handsome.
I gritted my teeth, unwilling to acknowledge the pull his smile had on me.
Wilder was trouble. I didn’t have time for distractions, especially ones wrapped in a package as aggravatingly bulky and grumpy as him. It shouldn’t be charming—him being a cranky arsehole.
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes, I forced myself to focus on the serious issues at hand. “Well, get them on the line,” I demanded, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me despite my irritation with him.
He quirked his brow before making a show of looking at his watch with sloth-like speed. “They’ll be in touch in four minutes. While ‘playing games,’” he said pointedly, “I thought of something I want to try that should help us fly under the radar when the tracking software is running. Without it, it won’t take long before alarms are ringing and those individuals who’ve accessed your team’s profiles are shutting down and deleting their fingerprints.”
I held back my wince. Humble pie tasted like shit, but sometimes it was necessary to throw some whipped cream on it and eat it all up.
“Thank you. Do you need help?”
Wilder’s skill set was phenomenal—he had some serious creative brainpower working for him. Not that I was too shabby with computer software. But working inside the law meant my creative instincts were regularly restricted.
A hacker like Wilder, who, despite his years working for the British Cyber Unit, absolutely no longer worked inside the restraints of the law, was a wholly different breed. As a hacker for hire, he operated in the shadows, bending and breaking the rules with a finesse that left even seasoned cybercrime investigators scratching their heads.
Because of course I’d done my research on him since being holed up for the past three days.
A few days ago, Hart—our “unicorn hacker” who’d fallen for one of my agents, Smythe—had brought him in to assist in a nightmare case that spread deeper, darker, and wider with every minute that passed.
Before then, I’d never known about Ethan Wilder’s existence. Why would I when he lived on the other side of the world?
Now, I knew a lot more. Though I suspected Wilder could redact information he didn’t want me or anyone else to know.
I couldn’t help but be grudgingly impressed.
