Page 25 of Sight of Fate

He looks down at the scene, and his jaw tightens.

I hand him the next one. Him as a wolf, howling, the cabin in the background.

His hand trembles slightly as he stares down at it.

I give him the third one. Him as a man, anguish and devastation on his face, kneeling in the dirt as he roars her name.

“Why are you showing me this?” he rasps, his voice tight with emotion. “I see it every damn night when I close my eyes. I don’t need it immortalized into art. It’s carved into my bones, my soul.” Anguish coats his voice, thick and raw, as if it happened yesterday instead of long ago. His fingers lightly trace over the remnants of the cabin, his eyes distant and full of memories.

“I draw what I see. This is painful, but I promise I’m not showing you these to be hurtful. You need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my vision is real because this next one is going to throw you for a loop,” I explain as I hand him the last drawing. The one with his daughter in it. “Your daughter is alive.”

His knees slowly buckle until he’s sitting on the edge of the booth. Gripping the sketch, his eyes are a brilliant, pure gold when he looks up at me. “Where?”

I take a deep breath. “There’s no sign on the diner. Nothing in my vision told me where to find her.” I point to the barstools. “But those seem pretty unique to me. You might be able to do an image search and either track down the manufacturer or possibly the diner itself if one of their customers took a picture and posted it online.”

“Alex!” he roars, and I automatically take two steps back.

Alex comes striding up, his face twisted in a sneer. “Want me to throw her out?”

I take another.

Leif sighs in exasperation. “Get me my computer. Now.” He turns to me. “Sit.”

His command washes over me, full of power, and for a brief second, I consider it. “I’ll stand.” Surrounded by his clan, who are kind of pissed at me, isn’t exactly comfortable. Not to mention the diners, who are all staring at us.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but Alex returns with a laptop. Ignoring us both, he orders Alex to search for the barstools.

Several results come up, but only one diner. Al’s. Knoxville, TN.

Leif slams the lid shut. “Get the helicopter ready and call Ingrid. We’ll take the jet from Denver.”

Alex picks up the sketches and looks at me in disbelief. “Sofia.” He hands them back to his father and takes off, shouting orders.

Are all wolf shifters so loud?

Leif stares at me, his eyes full of remorse. “Macklin was livid when he returned. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him lose his cool. He did last night. And damn, he’s got a fist like a fucking sledgehammer.” He rubs his face.

Given the situation, I’m glad Macklin confronted him. I may not understand the rules here, but both Teague and Macklin tried to get him to reconsider.

“I deserved it. What I did was wrong. I was an arrogant asshole who thought nothing of tossing my hat in a ring that is clearly not meant for me. Once my pride settled, I intended to apologize.” His eyes drop to the sketches. “But given the result, I’m not sorry.”

“I understand,” I assure him, not needing an apology.

Alex hollers from the back.

Leif holds up a finger, then turns to me. “If I find….” His lips compress, as if he doesn’t want to say the words out loud, then he stalks away.

I shakily blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. He believed me. I didn’t have to lie or make up an excuse to get him to search for his daughter. I only had to show him my vision. Ignoring the stares and whispers, I leave with the biggest smile on my face. Raine might actually be right. Maybe I can feel good about who I am and what I see. And as I drive back to the apartment to start on the sketch of Andros, it begins to snow. Finally. I hope it’s enough to close the pass. Although humans supposedly can’t enter the Vale without a supernatural, I’m too afraid to believe it.

Chapter Thirteen

CHARLI

Tugging on my collar for the hundredth time, I ride the elevator up to Teague’s office on Monday morning. Good thing Macklin brought my coat to me on Saturday as well as the code for the garage, or I’d have been in a world of hurt this morning. Not that I’m upset about the thirteen inches of snow or that it’s still falling. I need the pass to close. But I’m not used to the frigid temps or driving in the stuff, and it took forever to get from my apartment to the coffee shop this morning, but I did it. By myself.

Teague didn’t say where I’d be sitting when he stopped by Sunday to check on me, so hopefully he’s in his office. The elevator dings and the doors open, revealing Teague in a sharp navy suit, arms crossed, eyes dark and stormy. He glances at his watch.

Am I late? I lift my phone. 7:28. Phew. The tightness in my chest eases as I close the distance between us.