Matheau Moore Novels & Stories

a familiar voice adds and I freeze. When did Matteo get back from work?

Mew continued "Monk. You said he is no my destined one then how come he became my Mate??" Monk assured "Mew. Be patience, he may not your destined one but he may be better or best. It's all in your decision, wait for the moment." Mew asked Monk "Who is he?" Monk said "He is the prince of icy moon pack." Mew asked "Should I inform them??" Monk said "That's your decision but remember, it may lead you both into different way." Mew continued "But.. I.. "

But I had no intention of giving it away. Instead, I held it up, high enough for them all to see the seal. “The Moon Matron line,” I said. “Forgotten, not broken.” The room fell silent. Then, from behind the dais, a door opened and Daxon entered. Every time he walked into a room, it was like the oxygen shifted. He was dressed in formal black, no tie, his shirt open just enough to reveal the mark at the base of his throat a faint crescent scar that pulsed faintly under the light.

It was his handiwork. Matteo.

"Mate" ***

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!