Novel & Cerita Peter Hale

The man was older than Ray, although like most paranormals he didn’t look a day over forty, even though he could possibly be well over two hundred years old. Not wanting to appear rude, Ray approached the man and stretched out his hand. “Hello, I’m Ray Winston. And you are?” The man shook Ray’s hand. “I’m Marcus Sullivan. Leah’s father. Nice to meet you.” Ray smiled at his new father in law. “Nice to finally meet you as well. Please follow me. Leah is inside with my sister and our pups.” Ray noticed a shocked look on Marcus’s face before the man spoke. “Pups?”

Halley questioned it as I matched the details with Allie by cell phone. "Yes, we'll meet Allie at The Helen's in half an hour," I explained. Pyotr's footsteps caught my attention, and I immediately turned towards him, attracting Halley's attention. "Hey Peter, are you sure you don't want to join us? "I smiled invitingly in the hope of making the man have a little fun “last chance.” "Have fun today, Mary," he replied with a minimal smile on his lips, "See you tomorrow, Ms. Dawson.”

I asked. “I don’t know, Nathaniel. Until today, I didn’t even know he was a werewolf. I only know that Paul was a real estate agent that showed me the building I told you about. He texted me a meeting time and place to sign the contracts today. Your lawyer and I met him at his house, and we reviewed everything. Once the lawyer left, Paul asked me to look at his backyard. Stupid me went with him. I don’t even know how Tim knew I was there in the first place.”

The next morning, after Eva left for work, Daniel sat at the dining table with his laptop open and his jaw tight. He searched a name. Then another. Then another. Until he found the one he remembered from a past business acquaintance. Christopher Hale. Licensed private investigator. Discreet. Efficient. Expensive. Specializes in domestic cases. Daniel clicked “Call.” The man answered on the second ring. “Hale.” Daniel drew in a slow, steady breath. “My name is Daniel Mitchell. I need your help with something.” “What kind of help?” Daniel’s eyes drifted toward the front door—at the empty space where Eva’s shoes had been.

into the search bar and hit enter. The first result made his blood run cold. Marcus Hale, CEO of Hale Global Properties. Widowed. Estranged from only son, Tyler Hale. Tyler stared at the screen for a long moment. His hands started to shake. No. It couldn’t be. His father? The man he had not spoken to in years? The man who had cut him off and left him with nothing?

“The last time we met, Hale asked for my help retrieving a hidden flash drive from your father, Peter Smith. He told me your father was the main conspirator in Nicholas’s murder. He also said other politicians from my party were involved.” His voice remains calm, controlled, almost thoughtful. “I wanted to know whether Nicholas had really been killed and who was behind it. So I agreed to help. At that point, I knew nothing about you or Jason. Later, when I saw proof that neither of you were involved, I took the case. If you had truly been guilty, if you had killed Nicholas or Emma, I would never have touched it.” I watch him while he speaks. Too measured. Too ready. As if he has rehearsed ev

"Which means Hale had warning." "How? Razor was with us. His devices were dark." "Morrison is looking at it. But Jenna." His voice was steady but the weight in it was significant. "Hale has owned federal officials for twenty years. It is possible the warning did not come from inside this compound." I sat with that. Victor Hale. Sixty-three years old. Twenty years of building something invisible and enormous. A man who had survived three federal investigations by owning the people running them. A man who was now running.

My phone was buzzing insistently in my pocket, but I felt frozen, watching as Peter—as *fake me*—smiled and waved, fielding questions from reporters with the kind of polished ease that came from years of practice. "Mr. Hale, what brings you back to California?" "Family matters," Peter said smoothly, and even his voice sounded wrong, too high, too practiced. "I've been away too long. It's time to take a more active role in the company's operations." "Is it true you're being considered for CEO of the entire Hale empire?" "I don't want to comment on speculation, but I will say that I'm committed to honoring my family's legacy and leading this company into the future."

And I noticed that she noticed. Zane appeared at my shoulder. "You're staring." "I'm observing," I said. "There's a differ—" "Don't." Zane was quiet for a moment. "Victor Hale. Ex-MI6. Halo Systems. The man collects information for a living. Has done for ten years, just in different suits." He paused. "Why is he interested in Katia?" "That's what I intend to find out," I said. Across the room Victor Hale was still talking to Katia. She was listening with the polite attention of someone who was present but not engaged. She glanced across the room once — briefly, instinctively — and found me. Our eyes met for less than a second. Then she looked back at Victor.

At least, not where i can see it. Alex tracks it anyway. Traffic cams. Private footage. A PI who owes him favors and doesn’t ask questions. It takes less than twelve hours for a name to surface. Not Richard Roberts,not even close. “Former associate,” the PI says over speakerphone. “Low-level fixer. Used to clean up paper trails for Roberts Group before the fall.” Alex grips the steering wheel harder. “Name.” “Victor Hale.” The name hits wrong. Because Victor Hale is supposed to be dead.