Peter Hale Novels & Stories

“Hello Mr. Whalen. This is Sarah and this is Peter.” “Wonderful to meet you both.” Mr. Whalen swaggered and hooked his thumbs under his suit jacket’s lapels proudly. “I’m Grover Whalen, the president of this fine Fair’s commission. That’s right,” he confirmed when Peter gawked. “How are you enjoying my Fair?”

Draven stood rigid in the hallway, his arm tightened protectively around Belle, eyes fixed on two men at the far end. Diego leaned close to a companion, speaking quietly. The stranger’s face was half-shadowed, but Draven recognized that build, that stance, that cold, calculating aura instantly. Marcus Hale—his cousin’s right-hand man, the one who’d orchestrated data leaks and the attempted takeover of Blackwood Industries months before. The man who was supposed to be in prison.

A police cruiser pulled up behind him, siren whooping once to get his attention. Jake's heart skipped a beat. He pulled over to the shoulder, hands gripping the wheel tight. 'What did I do?' he wondered, glancing at the cop car. The officer stepped out, a big guy in his late 30s, broad shoulders filling out his uniform shirt. His name tag read 'Officer Hale.' He had a stern face, short dark hair, and a jaw that looked like it could crack nuts. Hale shone his flashlight into Jake's car, making him squint.

I need you to read this. We looked at each other. He kept reading. Out loud, after the first two lines, so I could hear it in real time. Cara Hale was forty-one. She had spent the last fifteen years watching her brother make bad decisions and take no responsibility for them. She had not been in contact with Patrick for three years. She had seen the Priya Nair profile and she had seen Alex's name and she had looked up the Hargreave case. She had done research. Then she had found something.

He had been one of the senior men who worked closely with Christian’s father years ago. “Who is that?” Christian asked. Daniella handed him the photograph. Christian stared at it. His expression changed immediately. “My father’s former attorney.” Adrian nodded. “His name is Richard Hale.” Christian looked at him. “He’s dead.” “That’s what everyone believes.” Daniella’s stomach dropped. “What do you mean?” Adrian placed the photograph back inside the cabinet. “Richard Hale disappeared twelve years ago. Before he disappeared, he was investigating financial transfers between Crown Meridian and several companies controlled by Raven.”

"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.

"Mr. Cyprian Hale is coming personally." Lyra swallowed hard. "Okay. That’s... suboptimal." Leo adjusted his tie. "We stand by our actions. Protect the pack." "He's going to kill us," Lyra whispered. "Or worse. He's going to make us do manual labor with Oryn." Ten minutes later, the outer door opened. The secretary didn't announce him. She was too busy trembling. Cyprian Hale walked in. He was seventy years old now. His hair and beard were silver white. He walked with a heavy, ebony cane topped with a silver wolf’s head. He wore a three-piece suit that looked like it was cut from midnight.

"Isla. If you're watching this, I'm already gone. And you've found the key." He coughs, a wet, painful sound. He wipes his mouth and continues. "The Black Swan isn't a bird, Isla. It's a Registry." He pulls out a document, holding it up to the lens. The paper shakes in his grip. "A list of every politician, judge, and CEO Michael Hale ever bought. From 1988 to the day I recorded this." He sets the document down and leans closer to the camera. His eyes are haunted, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them.

“Of course they are.” “He’s powerful,” Alexander continued. “He has allies in the media, law enforcement, and even international courts.” “Name,” she said. Alexander hesitated. “Alexander.” “Victor Hale.” The name hit her like a memory she hadn’t known she carried. “Hale,” she repeated slowly. “The philanthropist.” “Yes.” “The one who funded refugee programs. Museums. Scholarships.” “And weapons,” Alexander said. “And black sites. And assassinations.” Her chest tightened. “He attended my first exhibition.”

The old wolf wanted me back not only to deal with Apex Holdings but also because he intended to collaborate with the Hale Pack. Alpha Hale, the mysterious head of the Northern Territory, was known to be eccentric and had stipulated that he would only cooperate if I returned to the Thorne Pack. My refusal had blocked Victor's path, intensifying his murderous intent towards me. My pack communication device buzzed. Peter Vance's name appeared on the screen. "Any information on Alpha Hale?" I asked immediately. "Nothing on Alpha Hale yet," Peter replied, his voice carrying frustration. "But I found another skilled wolf psychologist in Ocean City. Quinn Chase, former classmate of Dr. Alex Walker.