Mateo Santiago Novels & Stories

It was the heaviest rain in a long while and for some reason, it felt like the sky was crying for the loss of the last Original. Author's note Hello dears, Author here, this is the end of His Mate. You can follow me on I*******m as @goodnessshadrach in order to know when the book 2; His Mate: The Demon King would start. Thank you all so much for your love on this story, I wish you would join me on the second installment. Looking forward to see you in I*******m :)

Mateo's pov They all offered me appealing gazes but I knew that was a mask underneath their menacing looks. It was safe to say that no one in the mafia could trust each other but with the way things were moving, my height of paranoia would stretch to its limit and my patience was wearing thin. “Matteo has delivered the painting… but uh, is it safe here now that girl is around?” Angelou linked his fingers together. The man has more rings in his fingers and a scar on his left eye, evidence of five failed marriages. His eyes darted left and right as he spoke as though waiting for someone or backing him up.

He was Princeton's replica. "He's one cute baby" a voice beside me said making me jump and I looked over to my right to see an unfamiliar male standing beside me and I frowned. There was something about him that told me he was someone I knew. Well, someone that I should know but who? "Who are you?" I asked, my voice shaking and the man smiled. Something about that gesture made something in my chest ache. "You wouldn't remember me since you were a mere toddler when I passed away" he replied, making me blink my eyes and he chuckled, "I'm Santiago, your father"

Back in his seat, Mateo attempts to erase what he had just seen, not only what he saw above, but also below. The deathly slim waist outlined by prominent ribs was etched into his brain. "Then you must be an undercover spy from the police, pretending to be a prostitute. I shall have you know that this is simply a religious cult." Mateo doesn't even bother sounding serious, he states it as if it was a fact and reaches for his drawer to pull out a box of cigarette and a lighter. He lights it up and places it between his lips.

I winked and gestured for him to remain calm. Though he still had a suspicious look on his face, he directed me there. His name is Mateo; he is the cops' worst nightmare. When he gets into trouble, he hacks the system and changes every piece of information, making it easier for him to get away. They call him an anonymous hacker. "There?" He pointed at a gathering of men gambling. "Look who we have here!" He paused the game, and all attention was shifted to me. "Want to join?" "El no ESTA en forma" sounded Spanish, spoke Spanish.

{“Don we got word about one of the men” He turned and faced his right hand man with a deadly glare. “Matteo non voglio notizie di quegli stronzi, voglio le loro teste” He spoke in his rich and deep Italian voice. {“Matteo, I don't want daily news about those fuckers, I want their heads”} Matteo looked at his boss with a panicked expression, He knew that their men couldn’t invade that territory, it is well defended. The only way in, is to have someone on the inside but the boss has killed most of he’s informants.

I spent years searching for a way to restore your sight. My dear Mia, did it hurt to be betrayed by those closest to you? I can’t imagine the despair you must have felt. My dear Mia, were you afraid when you were killed? You always feared pain the most. You were the kind of little princess who would cry for half a day over a mere scratch. My dear Mia, I’m so sorry. You must have felt so helpless and alone. I was too late. I should have come sooner. I hate Rowan with every fiber of my being and have already exiled him from Moonshadow Wolf Tribe.

Or Hollow Moon. The Reyes line carried the Flame too. Sylvia hadn’t just feared the Matrons. She’d come from them. And she’d spent decades burying that part of herself. I turned the page. There she was. Sylvia. Younger. Barely 16 in the grainy image. Standing beside her mother, Selene, in front of a flame-etched altar. The caption read: "Flame Ritual – Unsanctioned. 4 Matrons present. Collapse followed 6 hours later. Alpha companion deceased. Daughter unharmed.”

"Woah... What the fuck are you doing? Do you think I'm the new one making the decision on my own? I'm getting orders from the top. From the fucking top." She stood up slowly, her movements graceful, unafraid. "Let me tell you about Mateo Reyes. He has two siblings. Elena and Carlos. Their father owned most of the cartels that caused riots in the city even though their father escaped the death toll twice before he was shot dead in an African country called Madagascar, in Antananarivo." Richard's gun hand wavered slightly.

The room fell silent, everyone stunned by my declaration. "My god, is she talking about the Alpha King of the North American Lycan Pack, Michael Edward Carter?" "Impossible!" "Michael, with his prestigious lineage? He wouldn't be interested in a weak Omega from our pack!" "Thats not true Emily. It can't be true." James sneered. In his narrow world, a connection between me and an Alpha of Michael's stature was inconceivable. I must be fabricating the story.