Yadriel had endured one hell of a week.
It wasn’t enough that one of the prisoners---his special, special prisoner in particular---had gone missing on his watch, and that the men he employed to stop such an occurrence from taking place had been damn useless in preventing her escape, but before that, yet another slippery little bitch had managed to disappear right underneath his nose. Irina Michaels---she was supposed to be the easiest mark of them all, a beta wolf who behaved like a spoiled and entitled human brat, but due to a misstep on his part, she’d been able to slip out right through his fingers. He cursed himself inwardly for allowing it to happen, if it hadn’t been during the night of the full moon, there would have been no question about his restraint and ability to control himself. But damn it all to hell, he allowed her to distract him, and the moment the raid happened---just a few moments earlier than he’d expected---the pint-sized redhead was doing what she did best, and disappearing seamlessly into the frantic crowd, leaving Yadriel furiously hard and furious in general.Â
He had his best men working on tracking down not just Baby Doefoot but the bastard that had broken into his compound and mutilated several of his cronies before escaping with her on foot, but Yadriel refused to merely sit around and await their findings. The little beta bitch might have been able to run away from him, but she’d left quite a bit of herself in the process---including her ID that clearly wasn’t legal---and that along with her sweet, autumnal scent burned into his nostrils would be more than enough for him to hunt her down. Running might have been what she did best, but Yadriel had always been a tracker by nature, a predator no matter his form.
His instincts were what had brought him to Virgil’s Den. Irina was in hiding, and he wouldn’t be at all shocked if that freckled face of hers was well-known around Amsterdam’s shadiest black market. Even though she was just a beta, there were certain kinds of medication that weren’t readily available to female wolves, the only way to get them was as a form of contraband.Â
He moved stealthily throughout the crowded stalls, it was a rainy day and his sense of smell was muffled just a little bit because of it, but his jaw clenched angrily at the realization that he’d still be able to pick up that confusing fucking scent of hers nevertheless. Right now, though, all he could smell was freshwater on pavement, so he narrowed his eyes and approached one of the sellers that the human government had identified as one of the biggest suppliers of contraceptive pills in all of Amsterdam. A huge faux pas when it came to the mating program for omegas, but he wasn’t here to bust them---he had his own shit to tend to. “Have you seen this girl?” he asked without presumption, raising a brow expectantly as he smoothly retrieved Irina’s identification card from his wallet, offering it to the apprehensive-looking woman behind the stall. “Has she come through here lately? You can lie to me if you’d like, but I wouldn’t bother.” His voice came out sounding languid and at ease, as was his posture as he leaned his large, muscular frame so casually up against the front of the stall, but his gaze was as cold and as dark as black ice.Â
“Tell me. Bite-sized redhead with an attitude problem, she come around often?”Â
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