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Tristan
Tristan was helping Jameson with inventory at the pack headquarters when a bolt of pure fear shot through his chest.
He stopped and staggered backward, grabbing his chest. Was this what a heart attack felt like? Shifters didn't have heart attacks. But he'd had humans describe them to him during the course of his smoke jumping career.
Firefighters were first responders and while smoke jumpers were a little more specialized, every now and then they served in that capacity during a rescue. So they were trained in first aid, including what signs to look for when a human was struggling with his or her health.
The panic evened out a little, and then he could just feel fear and self-loathing.
That was Violet. There was something wrong. He’d never felt an emotion so strong coming off of her.
Their bond was strong even though they were mates. He could tell that she was rapidly leaving town, in a vehicle, not on foot.
And while he'd been afraid she'd try to run again since that was her default state, he felt like he would know it. But this feeling was nothing like the one he'd felt in the middle of the night when he caught her sneaking out of the cabin. This one was terror. He didn't know how else to describe it.
He could tell from the level of her fear that Arabella was with her. Dammit. His daughter was in danger and so was his mate.
He went straight to Roman. “I need your help.”
“What's wrong?”
“It's Violet. They have her and Arabella.”
“Who?” Roman asked.
“I'm not sure yet, someone has her. They’re in danger. I can’t get a good read on it yet, but I will.”
“How’d you find out?” Roman asked.
“Our bond.”
“Your bond is that strong and you're not mated? I knew you were attached to her, but I guess I can understand a little better now.”
“Yes, that's twice her distress has woken me up in the middle of night. But I can tell this time is different. There are other people involved. I think someone has kidnapped her.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“It went straight to voicemail.”
“Well, anyone with half a brain would've taken her phone,” Roman said.
Tristan stopped, not moving a muscle. He held his hand up so that his brother would not speak. “I'm getting a clear feeling. I'm going to try to talk to her through our bond.”
“Telepathy like that is pretty advanced,” Roman said
“I know, now be quiet.” He closed his eyes and concentrated.
“Violet. It's Tristan. I'm using our bond, please tell me where you are – or details about what's going on. I can tell there’s something wrong. I can tell that Arabella is with you.”
That was an awful lot of words. He was going to try again with images. Roman had told him earlier that was something that often worked in the early stages.
He pictured a map and then put a question mark over it, and then he pictured the silhouette of a woman and a child, and put another question mark over them.
It wasn't a perfect analogy, but it would have to do. A burst of surprise shot through his mind.
“Tristan! Can you hear me?”
“Yes! Loud and clear. Do you know where you are?”
