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The faster he’s caught, the faster I get back to Isabella. Faster the inevitable confrontation can be put to rest for our good or destruction.
My steps thunder in the silence, the forest animals scurrying away while my nostrils expand: I’m trying to find a thread of his decaying scent, but there’s nothing. As if the cloying essence never existed, but I stay on track.
“What do you mean he’s gone, Timoth,” I hiss from between clenched teeth, my muscles flexing as I fight to control a shift. The wolf wants the reins; he feels his female is in danger.
I have my doubts, though. She arrives, and now he’s gone.
Once again, he thrashes against my hold, forcing my fangs to drop and muscles to expand—the thick black pelt of my animal growing throughout.
“Answer me.”
“I’m sorry, Alpha. I found the room empty—”
“And what were you doing here?” No one knew he was here, much less had a reason to be inside the manor. My instructions were clear: every bloody person out.
I want no one near her. To hear her scream for me.
“I’d finished my run and after leaving instructions with the patrol leader, I came to talk with you. But the noises coming from—”
“Are none of your business.”
“Of course, Alpha.” Timoth’s eyes pinch a little at the corner right before he rubs the back of his neck. Out of annoyance or embarrassment, it makes no difference to me, but he’s smart enough not to challenge me. I’d rip his head clean off if he did. “I’m not asking about your personal affairs.”
“Carry on.”
“I’d turned to leave, but a glint caught my eyes. The door was wide open and this was on the floor. No sign of forced entry or his exit.” Opening his palm, he shows me a small empty pouch and a golden dagger. The latter still has Bartolo’s near-black blood on it. “It’s almost as if he vanished into thin air.”
“How do you know it’s his?”
“The old scent of cloves clings strongly to it. Can’t you sense it?”
Thin air. Untraceable.
But for some reason I can’t explain, I sense what others don’t. His imminent death—see the tendrils of his power as he uses it—but no other wolf can. And more and more I’m certain this is because of her.
I’m feeding off little moon’s gift. Her Wiccan heritage that I cursed so much right now is a blessing and I expand my chest on a deep breath, exhaling the tension from my muscles and giving in to my baser instincts.
No human emotion. Not using logic, but I let my wolf take the reins fully.
Bartolo’s here, of that I’m fucking sure. I will find him.
For three hours I scour every inch of the forest, running from east to west while Cain takes north and south. We check in with others, not stopping once to rest, but it’s as I double back to an area closer to the royal manor that a breeze sweeps past and my head snaps to the left.
Along with ruffling my fur, it brings with it a light putrid trace of that stench.
There are two places he could be in that direction and one is isolated. An iron gate surrounds the large structure, and only my father and I have access to unlock it. Dark within and lit by the sun or moon, my mum’s greenhouse would be the ideal place to hide with its unattended interior and endless weeds.
But it’s a disrespect. One I’ll take a lager pound of flesh for.
He’s at the mausoleum.
Howls sound in the distance. They heard me, and I take off at breakneck speed. Cain follows a second later, doubling back my way while his voice relays tactics to the others through our link.
We’re going to corral him.
Spread out and in a circle, we begin to close in once fifty feet away. Stealth is key, to keep quiet, and I shift slowly. It comes with pain, the control to recede and reform at this reduced pace as the body fights to speed up, but my limbs realign with soreness.
The claws at my feet revert, and the large paws become feet. Fur recedes just the same as my tan flesh appears before my muzzle becomes a sharp jaw.
