Matheau Moore Novels & Stories

I reached up and grabbed it, heading farther from the fire, past a few rows of seating areas. Three people sat in front of me, three women, all alike. You could tell they were related. Each shared the same auburn hair. They all laughed at something as we grew closer. The one in the middle turned her gaze to Drake. Their eyes were locking instantly. A smile pulled on her lips. The scar on her face faded compared to what I had seen in my vision. Her Golden eyes were twinkling in the light of the fire. Her eyes shifted from Drake to me. Her smile was slightly altering, a bit of nervousness taking over. Her sister and her mother turned to look at me as well. “Athena, this is my mate, Rachel, her

The sound faded into silence. I stood there for a long moment. Breathing. Letting the weight of her words settle. Then I felt the stares. They were everywhere. The other families. Their children. Their guards. They looked at me like I was a curiosity, a specimen, something to be studied and dismissed. Matteo Moreau approached me. He was tall and lean, with his father's silver eyes and his mother's sharp cheekbones. He moved like a predator, fluid and deliberate, his footsteps silent on the marble floor.

I kept reminding them as they fought for their survival. Till one cave wolf stood among them. On top of the highest rocks, he was looking down at me. I lifted my head and snarled challenging him to get down "Matthew Moore, the cursed alpha king. Pleasure to kill you!" his annoying voice sprang up at the back of my head. He had an accent. A tone that I had never heard for a long time. His shade was pure black. His eyes were bloody red. That rang a bell! "Edon Archambeau!"

“Moreau didn’t just target our operations. He sent a message.” He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, then handed it to me. A video played on the screen. The image was grainy, likely recorded in a dimly lit room. A man was tied to a chair, blood dripping down his face. His suit was torn, his breathing ragged. I recognized him instantly. Matteo. One of my top lieutenants. Aurora gasped. “Oh my God…” Then Moreau stepped into frame. His face was calm. Controlled. He held a blade between his fingers, twisting it lazily as he crouched beside Matteo.

“I’ll be heading back to the U.S. soon, but I’ll stay in close contact with the team here. They know Matteo’s history, and they’re ready to act fast.” I nod. “Thank you, Doctor.” He gives us a final look, the kind that holds unspoken words. Then, with one last glance at Matteo, he turns and walks away. A few moments later, the new specialist arrives. Dr. Laurent Moreau. He’s tall, with sharp blue eyes and a calm, confident presence. There’s something about him that immediately commands attention—not arrogance, just certainty. “Mr. and Mrs. Russo,” he greets us, his French accent noticeable but not heavy. “I’ve reviewed Matteo’s case extensively, and I want to assure you, we have a plan.”

Alpha Reed looked to be in his early 30s and he had short brown hair, dark eyes that were almost black and he had a few scars on his bulging arms, which pulled against his tight white tee as he crossed his arms behind his desk. He had a few personal photos in his office of a young woman. He raised a cut eyebrow at me and waved his hand to indicate for me to begin. "Well the letter has some inaccuracies, but there are some correct aspects such as I was a breeder and my mother still is a breeder, but I am a born shifter. When I was sent to the market, Timothy bought me and it turned out that he is my mate. Timothu burned off my breeder mark and marked me as his mate."

The line was muffled, but I heard it loud and clear. “I have Timothy Moore. Do you think the Moore group would be enough to buy his life back?” I had spent the entire evening with him. I knew that voice too well. Mateo Stone!

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

"Which species?" Sophia hesitates, collecting her thoughts before speaking. "Well, there's one in particular who might be willing to help us. His name is Papa MoJo, and he's a powerful VooDoo Priest who has a history of clashing with Shade. He's a respected houngan in the Voodoo community, and his knowledge of the spiritual realm is unmatched." Kie looks at Matt, "is he the one from one of your visions?" he asked. "Yes."

𝙸 𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙲𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙿𝚂 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺 𝚃𝙾 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼. "𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙻𝙾𝚂𝚃?" 𝙸 𝚃𝚄𝚁𝙽𝙴𝙳 𝙰𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝚂𝙴𝙴 𝙰 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙼𝚄𝚂𝙲𝚄𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙵𝙸�