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“Yes,” Tor blurted. “If that’s what it takes.”
Mihaela’s eyes flashed silver as she growled at her mate.
Tor puffed up his chest when Mihaela approached, but Rone knew how this confrontation would end. His fathers always backed down to his mother. Always.
Tor was saved by his phone vibrating in his pocket. He held out a staying hand when Mihaela approached. “It’s Johnson. He probably has news about Drasko and Amara.”
Mihaela crossed her arms, glaring at her mate’s retreating back as he slipped onto the patio and answered the phone.
Rone prayed to the Ancients that Johnson had favorable news. They’d heard nothing since Drasko had made a hasty call two days ago saying they’d made it to Luc. Hopefully, Johnson was just calling with the news that Drasko and Amara would be home by nightfall.
Rone went to the storage room and grabbed some meat to thaw for tonight’s supper. He’d just returned from the deep freeze when Tor came back into the house, the stricken look on his face turning Rone’s veins to ice.
Mihaela clasped her throat, gaping at her mate. “What is it?”
Tor looked like he’d aged ten years as he dragged a hand down his face. “I need you both to sit down.”
Mihaela fell onto the sofa. “Tor, you’re scaring me.”
“What happened?” Rone felt a strange detachment from his body as he crossed to his mother, sitting beside her. Something was wrong. Something wasverywrong.
Balling his hands into fists, Tor paced the carpet in front of them. “Drasko and Amara’s helicopter crashed.”
Rone felt as if the world had just slipped out from under him as his mother’s cries and his father’s growls faded into the distance.No. This couldn’t be happening.
His tongue felt like a deadweight as he struggled to speak. “Are-are they okay?”
Tor shook his head. “We don’t know yet.”
How could he go on without his mate and brother? He cut a glance at Alexi, who giggled when a cartoon squirrel’s eyes bulged out of his head. What would their two boys do without their mother and Drasko? With an incomplete pack? It was a fate worse than the Devora’s.
His voice cracked and splintered, mirroring the fissure in his heart. “Why don’t we know anything?”
Tor’s shoulders fell as he sat on Mihaela’s other side, taking her hand in his. “They lost contact with the helicopter.”
“Is anyone going after them?” he asked.
Tor wrapped his arm around Mihaela when she rested her head against his shoulder. “The trackers are heading in their direction. Luc will find them.”
Rone wasn’t reassured by the way his father averted his gaze. “What is it?”
“A storm came through.” Shadows fell across Tor’s features. “It’s delaying the trackers.”
A jolt of panic shot up his spine, and Rone jumped to his feet. “We can’t sit here and do nothing.”
“No,” Tor said, his features hardening. “We’re taking you to the base now.”
“But-but the babies,” Rone stammered.
Tor motioned toward Mihaela. “We’ve got the babies. You need to go now and meet up with Hakon in Nome.”
Fear and dread coursed through his veins. “And then what?”
Tor’s features hardened to stone. “And then we pray to the Ancients to keep them safe.”
Rone’s mind reeled. He had no time to pack, to prepare. They had to go—now. Then a thought struck him. Even if they survived the crash, how would Amara survive the Alaskan wilderness? “If Amara’s pregnant, she won’t be able to shift.”
“Rone, look at me.” Tor clutched his shoulders, desperation flaring in his eyes. “If anyone can keep her alive, Drasko can.”
