Two deltas in the cell, three alphas chained to the wall. How many other deltas did I see tonight?
Just as the bile churns in my stomach, I fall to my knees in the dream. I barely make it off the bed before landing on the floor and vomiting.
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Chapter 27: Orion
Mud cakes my paws as I trot back through the woods, through the eastern forest. I passed Eli and Kellen out near the waterfall bank, but even in wolf form, I could tell they found nothing. No sign of the witches. Not a hint.
Across the valley, Grayson’s silhouette appears on the ridge, shoulders tense. I pick up the pace and shift back to human form as I reach him.
“Anything?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
A slight shake of his head before he turns and stalks back toward our cabin, another mile away through the brush. The strain is weighing on everyone. The enforcers are taking it personally each time they go hunting past Ghost’s ward and return empty-handed.
The house is quiet when we get back. Upstairs, I stand under the shower spray just long enough to wash the mud away, then towel off and pull on whatever clothes my hands find first, my mind somewhere else.
My wolf paces restlessly inside me, yearning for Mona. The house feels hollow without her, but she’s barely here these days—at the gym with Andrea or training who-knows-where. When Gray, Silas and I aren’t handling enforcer business, we’re with Kendrick, reaching out to alphas across every clan. It’s slow work. Most old-school wolves still avoid human technology, forcing us to wait for someone to get in touch with them. All this to find the missing wolves, the ones Mona sees every night in her dreams.
God, if I could take that burden from her, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
When she’s home, her anxiety is so high, she can barely sit still. She paces from room to room like a caged animal, grilling us on what we might’ve learned, desperate for a scrap of information.
Every single night, she sees the missing wolves. Some happily living their lives, having no idea what’s coming for them. Then there are the others. The ones already captured, chained in some underground hellhole. Mona needs sleep, but the sleep is what’s hurting her.
The skin beneath her eyes drags like darkened storm clouds. She’s exhausted, but refuses to do anything to stop the dreams. Silas tried to convince Ghost to make her a potion of some kind—something, anything to help her get rest without the visions. Mona found out and wouldn’t speak to Silas for an entire day. His heart fucking shattered, so he backpedaled, but the damage was done. The rejection hit him hard. It was like picking at an old wound, turning it back into a scab. Still, he trails her like a pup, desperate for any scrap of attention, but she’s so trapped inside her head, the weight of carrying his pain is just too much to bear. So, we do what we can to help her. It isn’t enough.
She’s hurting, and she’s supposed to turn to us, her mates, for help, but refuses.
Grayson stands at the stove when I enter the kitchen, stirring something that smells like garlic and herbs, enough food for four. Silas should be right along. The front door creaks open just as Mona crosses my mind, and the air fills with jasmine. It’s tinged with bitterness, but that’s nothing new. She inhales sharply, catching herself before slamming the door shut. I hang back, counting her steps. Grayson sets a glass on the table, gripping so tight it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as she storms past us.
I trail her up the stairs. She drops onto the bed, yanks at one sock, then the other. The fabric catches on her heel, and she tugs harder, her breath coming out in short bursts with frustration. I kneel and take her foot in my hands. The sock slides free, and I pull off the rest of her clothes, reverently, trying to mask my relief that she lets me. Without pushing for more, I head to the bathroom, and she follows. Steam rises as I crank the water hotter.
“Anything?” she asks flatly as she stands naked beside the tub. It’s the same question I asked Grayson less than an hour ago, and I wish my answer were different. I shake my head.
She nods in understanding, looking down at the ground. “But you talked to Ingrid’s Lune, right? They said her alpha was missing, too? Surely someone saw something?”
Thanks to Mona, our search for the strawberry-scented girl gave us a head start. Andrea’s mate, Ingrid, belongs to a clan north of Flagstaff. The news should have brought joy—Andrea discovering she had not just a mate but an entire pack, since Ingrid shared bonds with two other wolves, Sam and Cal.
Both Ingrid and Sam, her alpha, have been kidnapped.
At least they are together.That’s what Andrea said coldly, showing no emotion, when we told her what we learned. Then she turned, spine straight, and marched out of the office. Mona chased after her, and they’ve been nearly inseparable ever since.
I turn the shower dial back down, then hold Mona’s hand as she climbs in. She keeps the curtain drawn, and I lean against the counter as she cleans herself, letting the falling water mask her pain. When she’s finished, I have a towel ready and waiting, and wrap her up in it, one for her hair, one for her body.
“How do you always know what I need?” she mumbles when we’re back in her room.
I shrug.
“You think I can’t handle it. The dreams.”
I reach out and brush my knuckles against hers. Then my fingers wrap around her delicate wrist. “Explain to me how you’re handling it.”
She growls and yanks her hand away. So, I do what I’m good at: I practice patience. I wait. She dresses in tiny sleep shorts and a tank top that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, her pert nipples poking against the fabric. She eyes me in challenge, but I don’t give in. Hopefully, her other mates don’t give into her wily machinations either. She’s pretty good at distracting us with sex.
All she has to do is bite her bottom lip and my dick gets hard.
But there are more important things right now, and since she can’t tell me she’s handling the dreams well—because she isn’t—I don’t want to let her use sex to pretend she’s okay. I want her to talk to me. She’s falling apart, and I’m watching it happen, and it fucking aches. And on top of all that, the shifters are under attack, and we have no idea where to even begin getting our brethren back.
