My wolf is frantic, spinning, howling. I can barely see straight. I want to shift, to rip apart every tree until I find them, but Nick grabs my shoulder, turns me to face him. “You need to keep your shit together,” he snaps, low and urgent. “She needs you to think, not panic.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know he’s right. Alora and Dina are out here, and if I lose my head. I lose time. It’s not like passing out, more like every second is being stretched out, and I can barely hear what’s going on around me.
I’m vaguely aware of Nick barking orders, of Thomas and Bryan fanning out to search, but I’m still on my knees in themud, staring at the smear of blood nearby. I want to throw up. I want to tear out my own heart and offer it as ransom if it means Alora and Dina are okay.
Then I hear it, soft footsteps on the path behind me, too deliberate for a search party. I whip around, half-shifted already, and come face-to-face with Luna, her aura bright and her eyes concerned. She’s flanked by Skylar and Fern, who must have been with her when the call came in. Luna’s magic is riding high and wild, her eyes already glowing with the effort of holding it all in.
“I’m here,” she says, voice pitched low and steady. She looks at me, not with pity, but with the kind of directness that makes me feel naked. “Nick called. He said the wolves are reacting to something.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, just walks the path, scanning for anything that might be magic.
Luna stops at the drag mark, kneels, and presses her palm into the dirt. The air stirs, the pressure changes, and I feel my wolf pull back, her magic always reminding me of the pull of magic I endured at Cheslem, even if it comes from a different place. For a second, nothing happens. Then Luna’s whole body goes rigid, and a shock of blue light flashes from her fingertips, tracing the path of the struggle all the way back to the riverbank.
“Cheslem,” she says, voice flat and final. “Dark magic, and a lot of it. They’re using blood as an anchor. This was a planned snatch.”
I want to scream, but all that comes out is a broken tone. “My fault.” It’s all that’s left in me, the only thought that makes sense. My history, my failures, my bloodline; this is the price, and now Dina and Alora are paying it.
Nick is at my side instantly, pushing down on my shoulder until I look at him. There’s no anger in his eyes, justthat same cold focus I remember from the day he took me in. “We don’t have time for guilt,” he says. “You’re here because you chose to be better. You’re not Cheslem anymore. They did this, not you.”
I want to believe him, but the words bounce off the armor I’ve built over the years. I look at Luna, desperate for a sign that she blames me, too, that I deserve the pain spiking through my chest.
She shakes her head, reading my mind. “If you think you’re the source of all evil, you’re wrong. Cheslem is. The old pack. The ones who never let go of the blood rites. You’re not that wolf, Caleb. The magic says so. We all say so.”
I want to believe her, but the only thing I can see is Dina’s face, picture her fighting, and Alora’s tiny hand in hers. I want to be anywhere but here, but Nick’s grip is absolute, grounding me.
He looks at Luna, and the world slows to a crawl. “The magic is obscuring their scents. Can you find them?” Nick asks, and the question hangs heavily.
Luna closes her eyes, pulling the storm inside her until her whole body trembles. When she speaks, her voice is deeper, layered with something that isn’t quite human. “Yes, I think so. They used a shadow spell to conceal themselves; that’s how they got so close to town, but it’s patchy. I can sense Dina and Alora.”
The last words cut through my panic. “They’re alive?”
Luna nods, but follows with a warning. “For now. They must want them alive, but this magic corrupts. We need to find them, fast.”
My vision blurs with rage and relief all at once. I try to pace, but Thomas braces me, steady as a tree. “We do thissmart,” he says, voice pitched for my ears only. “You’re no good to her dead or gone wild.”
We regroup at the pack hall, but I am barely aware of the drive back. I’m aware only of the ache in my chest, the need to run, the need to hunt, the need to do something, anything, to get them back.
Inside, Connor and Dylan are already laying out the op board on the wall in the main hall; the old perimeter map, lines of colored string, a dry marker in Dylan’s fist as he circles the park and every logical route. Fern is at the kitchen counter making coffee, hands steady, voice low as she takes roll calls from the relief teams.
Nick barks orders, his voice bristling with alpha dominance, and the room falls in line. I keep waiting for someone to look at me with suspicion, to whisper about Cheslem, to say out loud what I know they all must be thinking: this happened to me because of me, because I brought the stink of the old pack into their midst, because I am a liability and always will be.
I feel braced for it, but no one says anything. Instead, Connor crosses the room and puts a hand on my shoulder, a real one, good and solid and reassuring.
“Hey,” he says, quiet but not soft. “You with us?”
I nod, or try, but my face isn’t working right. My vision keeps doubling, and I can’t get my lungs to fill normally.
Dylan looks up from the board and locks eyes with me. “We’re gonna get them back, man. No one’s giving up on your kid. You hear me?” He says it with the kind of certainty that makes me want to believe him.
I try to answer, but my throat is raw. Fern brings over a mug of coffee, sets it in front of me like she’s done it a thousand times, and just pats my back once. “Drink and breathe. You’re Silvercreek, and so is your family. We don’t lose our own.”
It’s so direct, so absolute, that it cuts through my panic. I focus on the map, on the problem, and force myself to listen as Connor lays out the plan. I let the combined weight of the pack reassurance settle around me, drawing on their strength, and for the first time, I really feel like this is home. Or at least, it will be once Alora and Dina are back here where they belong.
Chapter 16 - Dina
It’s strange how a kidnapping is never as cinematic as you’d imagine. In the movies, it’s all black hoods and chloroform, but in real life, it’s a muddy truck, the baby shrieking in my arms, and some asshole with blood running down his neck hissing at me to “shut up, shut up, shut up” as if that’s ever worked on a child or a woman, for that matter.
I hold Alora so tight my arms ache. When they yank us from the cab, she screams, and I bite down on the urge to bare my teeth. I will not give them the satisfaction. I will not let them see me rattle, because that’s what idiots like this usually want. They want to see cracks. Weakness. The wolf inside me is pacing, ears pinned, ready to kill, but right now, survival is the only thing that matters.
We’re forced through some trees that line a small compound. The air here is heavy, electric with dark magic, and two things hit me at once: the man I slashed is still bleeding, which means the magic is affecting him more than he lets on because he’s a shifter and should be healing faster. And secondly, we haven’t traveled far, maybe 20 minutes from the trail, maximum. That’s the most shocking part; this setup isn’t new and is only just beyond the closest border. How long have they been watching us? How long have they been this close and not been detected?
