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Despite the low chance it’s an enemy, my hand drops to my dagger, and my fingers curl around the hilt, just in case.
This is as close as I can get to protecting Idril. If that means I have to take up sentry duty in front of a hill of rocks, then so fucking be it.
Soon, a youthful voice rings out through the forest, and Soren’s shoulders relax.
“Alpha Heir!”
“Here!” Soren shouts in answer. A silent pause follows, then comes the distinct sound of a scuffle, a string of muttered curses, and a figure bursts through the trees, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he skids to a stop.
I don’t recognize his voice, but I recognize his face—a younger Alpha, with shaggy blond hair and boyish features. His eyes land on his Alpha, and he bares his neck, panting as he tries to catch his breath.
“Alpha, I was sent to find you. Both of you. By the Bastard, Daxen.”
Frowning in confusion, I take a step forward and ask, “Dax sent you? Why?”
The wolven shoots me a glance, then turns his attention back to Soren. He waits until Soren inclines his head, then turns toward me and straightens his shoulders. I’m strangely in awe of the respect Soren’s Pack has for him. The Bloodbound tend to fuck around a bit more, but when it’s time to act, we’re always on top of it. Soren’s warriors very rarely act anything less than battle-ready, especially around outsiders. It’s clear they know who their leader is, and go to great lengths to ensure everyone else does as well.
“He told me to tell you someone showed up at HQ. Someone important, and that they need your help to interrogate,” the wolven reports, tone clipped and to the point.
“Who?” I push, irritated at the lack of information, even though I don’t know why I’d expect any different. Daxen would never send someone outside the ranks with important information.
“I don’t know, sir. He didn’t tell me. I’m too far away to mind-link with anyone else from the Pack, but he said it was important. He said—” At this, he hesitates, shooting a nervous look toward Soren.
As much as I respect their Pack Hierarchy, I don’t need the damn kid looking to Soren for permission every time he opens his mouth. Snarling, I take another step forward and straighten my spine, pinning the kid with a glare that’s made lesser males shit themselves.
Thankfully, this one’s made of sturdier stuff, but sweat breaks out on his brow, and he swallows thickly before answering.
“He—he said it’s about your—your—Mate. About Omega Idril, Sir.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that, Lincoln?” Soren snaps, and the wolven bares his neck, lips parting to reply, but Soren talks over him.
“It’s fine. Let’s go.”
The kid spins and takes off, Soren and I at his heels. It’s at least a two hour walk, but if we run, we’d make it back much sooner.
We’re only a few yards away when movement behind me makes me glance back, unsurprised to find Shade following. What’s strange is that rather than the relaxed loping gait I’m used to, his ears are pinned back and his shoulders are tight, each stride tense and his frame primed for attack.
That alone puts me on edge, and I get Soren’s attention, gesturing over my shoulder with a flick of my head. He frowns, spotting the same signs I have, and we exchange a long look before wordlessly picking up speed. The idea was to cycle between jogging, running, and sporadic sprints, but we wind up pushing ourselves—and the poor Alpha pup—and run the entire way back.
By the time we exit the forest and arrive in the training yard, I’m exhausted and quite literally running on fumes. I haven’t slept since Idril walked into the forest, and it’s catching up to me in a big way now. At the same time, the forty minutes spent in a constant state of anxiety, in addition to the adrenaline, have me ready to fuck someone up.
I wonder, not for the first time since we started our run back, if this has something to do with the book Vae and Daxen found and brought back from Varenthralls. To say I was pissed that they went there without me would be an understatement. When they brought it back, I stayed long enough to hear what happened and their theories before leaving the War Room and returning to my silent vigil in front of the flames.
After thinking it over, I have to admit they’re probably right that Idril is somehow related to these humans who could do magic. I guess I always assumed there were never any humans who had supernatural abilities, but maybe there were. Maybe they existed a long fucking time ago, and now they’re all dead.
That still doesn’t really explain why Idril has them, but it gives us something to work with, at least.
Whatever she is, someone out there knows. There’s one person who has all the fucking answers and never bothered to share them with his own daughter, but had no problem using his knowledge for his own fucked-up gain.
Jonathan Varenthrall.
Part of what keeps me going the whole way back is the hope that somehow, against all odds, that asshole is stupid enough to come sniffing around HQ, and that’s who they have waiting for me.
And if he is? I’ll kill him. I’ll torture him until he spills everything he knows, keep him alive long enough to make sure we free the Omegas he’s stolen, then slit his throat and be done with it.
Then Idril will come back home, and I’ll be able to tell her she never has to worry about her father hanging over her like the sword of Damocles, and we can concentrate on what matters most—her.
By the time we stumble inside, I’m deep in fantasies of all the ways I’ll torture information out of Varenthrall. One of the staff greets us, telling us Gav, Vae, and Dax are waiting upstairs, and Soren thanks him before sending the pup back out to find Kane and update him.
