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Out in the sunshine of Archer’s yard, I clasp Trystan’s hand in a goodbye. “Be careful out there. We don’t know where they are right now.”
He nods grimly. “Yeah, you too, man. Let’s both make it back in one piece.”
“And as fast as possible,” I agree.
Then we shift again and split away from each other, heading for our respective packs.
The sun is setting by the time I lope into my village. My sense of urgency has grown with every step I’ve taken away from Sable. I’m alive with nervous energy, and for the first time since I became alpha, I’d rather give the job to someone else so I can return to the East Pack and be with my mate. But my loyalty and duty run deeper than any river in the mountains.
I howl at the twilight sky to announce my presence and head straight for Amora’s cabin. The elder council will need to be told what’s going on, as well as the pack itself, but right now I need the steady, stable presence of my right hand.
Her door whips open before I even reach her yard, and she bounds down the porch stairs, looking around for me. By the time she reaches my side, I’ve shifted to human form.
“Lawson’s gone,” she greets me, worry etched in the lines between her dark brows.
“I know.” My jaw tightens as I nod. “But it’s even worse than that.”
She eyes me warily, concern burning in her eyes. “Ridge, where’s Sable?”
“She’s safe,” I assure her. “But Lawson isn’t.”
As quickly as possible, I tell her what happened in the mountains with Gwen the witch, about Sable being bound to the leader of the local coven, and how she walked through their psychic connection and saw Lawson being tortured for information. Amora’s hard expression falls away piece by piece until she’s staring at me slack-jawed, stricken mute by what I’ve told her.
“I thought… fucking hell, I thought he just ran off to some human city to start a new life,” she murmurs, brushing her dark hair back with both hands. “I never imagined… is he dead?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, grief and anger burning side by side in my chest. “But based on what Sable saw, I think it’s safe to assume he’s gone.”
Amora’s eyes go wide, and she covers her mouth with one hand, giving a sad shake of her head.
I clasp her shoulders in my hands and press my forehead to hers. She slides her own hands up to my shoulders, and we stand with our heads together, our arms locked, eyes closed, sharing our grief. It’s a mimic of a hug, but more meant to give each other strength.
We were childhood friends. Amora. Me. Lawson.
We spent all our days together, getting into trouble in the woods, building treehouses, racing through the ravine as wolves, howling at the moon and promising we’d be friends for life. Then we were teenagers, and something changed in Lawson. He started bullying younger wolves, becoming more interested in selfish gain and less in the good of the pack. Our friendship ended, and even the love we once shared as brothers frayed, but memories never fade.
Amora swipes tears away from her eyes as she releases me, but then her face smooths into her usual battle armor. “All right. What’s the plan?”
I motion for her to follow me back to my cabin so I can put on some clothes and make some coffee.
“We need to move quickly,” I tell her, “and I need your help.”
19
Sable
Archer’s house is quaint and comfortable. It feels like a home, more so than my uncle’s farmhouse ever felt. But I’m so on edge that I want to tear all four walls down and scream at the sky.
I pace back and forth between the couch and the front door, my hands twisting into knots in front of me. It’s been a few hours since Trystan and Ridge left, so I know they’ve probably only just arrived at their respective packs, but I’m ready for them to come back. Now. I know what they’re doing will take time. Logically, I know I need to be patient because that means they’re being safer, being cautious.
But I hate being away from them. I hate not knowing what’s happening out there in the wilderness, both with Cleo and the coven’s plans, and with my mates. I hate just sitting here. Waiting.
It’s not like there aren’t things we should be doing here to prepare, as well. Archer cut out not long after Trystan and Ridge left to meet with his father and his council of elders. Dare’s been sprawled on the couch ever since, a blanket tossed over his hips and his eyes wide open as he gazes at the ceiling. We’re both supposed to be sleeping, resting up for the battle ahead, but I’m too antsy and Dare’s too broody.
I spent some time going over the book Gwen gave me. Though I attempted a couple spells inside the house, Dare’s constant cringing at the sight of the black smoke sent me into the backyard. Luckily, Archer’s house is at the far end of the village, and his backyard isn't really visible from the neighboring houses.
But after practicing sigils for over an hour, I started to lose my concentration and gave up before I made a mistake and lit the house on fire or something.
“You need to rest,” Dare says in a gruff voice. That’s been his refrain for the past thirty minutes, every time he gets tired of me passing by the couch as I wear a trail into the hardwood.
