River's hand tightened in his. "Like the bad men at my house?"
"Yes," Nero said carefully, lifting the boy over a fallen log. "But we're going to find him first."
They crested a ridge and Nero paused, setting River down a moment, his enhanced senses stretching outward. The wind carried fragments of sound—distant voices, the creak of leather, metal against stone. Mercenaries were still in these mountains, still hunting. Through his bond with Casteel, he felt a strangemixture of awe and urgency, as if his mate had discovered something wondrous but remained in danger.
"Are you a wolf?" River asked suddenly, his young eyes studying Nero's face with surprising perception.
Nero glanced down, startled. "What makes you ask that?"
"Your eyes," the boy said simply. "They shine silver sometimes. And you're really strong."
A small smile touched Nero's lips despite everything. "Yes," he admitted. "Part of me is wolf."
"Will you eat me?" River's voice was curious rather than frightened.
"No," Nero assured him, squeezing the small hand in his. "My wolf protects those I care about."
They continued downward into a narrow valley where a stream cut through the rocks. Nero helped River drink, then refilled their small waterskin. As the boy splashed his face clean of tears and grime, Nero closed his eyes, focusing on his bond with Casteel.
The connection flickered, but it was there—and it was leading him southeast, toward a gap between two distant peaks. Whatever was happening to Casteel, he was moving, but not a captive as Nero had feared. Relief washed through him, tempered by the knowledge that danger still lurked in these mountains.
"We need to keep moving," he told River, who nodded with the solemn acceptance of a child who had seen too much in too short a time.
They paused by a stream after nearly a bell before Nero froze, his enhanced hearing picking up the rhythmic thunder of approaching hooves. His arms tightened around the little boy and he dove behind a cluster of boulders just as riders appeared on the ridge above.
Silver Guard. At least twenty, moving with military precision along the very path they had been following. "Quarter the valley systematically," came a soldier's voice from the ridge. "Spread out in teams of four. Check every cave, every overhang. They can't have gotten far."
Nero pressed himself deeper into the shadow of the boulder, one hand covering River's mouth to muffle any sound. The boy's eyes were wide with fear, but he remained perfectly still, perhaps understanding instinctively that their lives depended on his silence.
Nero felt a sudden surge of excitement, but not his own. His mate was experiencing something extraordinary, but the connection carried undertones of imminent danger that made Nero's protective instincts flare.
The Silver Guard patrol passed overhead, their horses' hooves striking sparks from the rocky path. Nero counted twenty-three riders, all heavily armed, all bearing the distinctive silver armor that marked them as Doran's elite forces. They moved with the confidence of hunters who believed their prey was cornered.
"Captain," one of the riders called, his voice carrying clearly in the thin mountain air. "Fresh tracks leading toward the ravines. Two sets—one adult male according to our wolf scouts, and something smaller."
Nero's blood ran cold. They'd found the trail from the farmstead, the path he and River had taken through the valley. In minutes, the Silver Guard would follow that trail directly to their hiding spot.
"Move out," the captain commanded. "And remember—the wolf is to be taken alive. If there's a child...disposal is at your discretion."
The casual dismissal of River's life sent white-hot rage through Nero's veins. The wolf within him snarled for release, demanding blood in payment for the threat to the child who hadsomehow become his responsibility. But twenty-three armed soldiers were too many, even for the silver wolf's enhanced abilities. He needed another option.
The Silver Guard had split into smaller groups, each taking a different path down into the valley. Nero watched them spread out like a net, systematically closing off escape routes. In minutes, they would be trapped.
"Hold tight to my back," he whispered to River, adjusting his grip on the boy. "Whatever happens, don't let go."
River nodded, his small arms wrapping around Nero's neck with desperate strength. The child's trust was absolute, heartbreaking in its innocence. He believed Nero could protect him, could save him from the violence that had already claimed his family.
Nero waited until the nearest patrol walked down the ridge, then made his choice. Instead of running deeper into the valley where the other teams waited, he went up—scaling the cliff face with inhuman strength and agility, carrying River with him.
The wolf's enhanced senses guided him to handholds invisible to ordinary sight. His fingers found purchase in tiny cracks, his feet balancing on ledges barely wide enough to support his weight. River clung to him silently, his face pressed against Nero's shoulder, somehow understanding that even a whimper might betray them.
They reached a narrow shelf twenty feet above the valley floor just as the Silver Guard patrol passed directly beneath them. From this vantage point, Nero could see the entire operation—teams methodically searching every possible hiding place, closing in on where they had been moments before.
"Nothing here, Captain," called one of the soldiers, examining the boulder where they'd hidden. "But the tracks lead this way."
The patrol leader dismounted, studying the ground with the careful attention of an experienced tracker. "Something's wrong," he muttered. "The tracks stop here."
Nero held his breath as the man's gaze swept upward, scanning the cliff face. For a heart-stopping moment, their eyes seemed to meet across the distance—but the fading light and natural camouflage of the rock kept them hidden.
