“My men asked around,” Lucian says carefully, watching me. “Nobody has seen them. Or perhaps they simply don’t want to talk to the royal guards.”
There’s something in his tone that tells me he doesn’t believe that second option.
I never had a good relationship with my parents. They didn’t love me the way they loved my brothers—that much was always clear. When my uncle forced me to become a warrior, to take on the responsibility of protecting the pack at the age of fifteen, they let him. Didn’t fight for me. Didn’t protest. They weren’t cruel exactly, but they weren’t…They weren’t parents. Not to me.
But they’re still my family. And my brothers, gods—two of them are just children.
“I have to go.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I have to go there. Right now. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
“I’ll open a portal,” Kieran says immediately. He’s already moving toward me, his hand reaching for mine. “We can leave right away.”
“You should take guards.” Lucian stands up, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “This could be a trap. Someone trying to lure Daciana out. I’ll send five of my best soldiers.”
“I will bring my own men, as well.” Kieran’s eyes flash silver, looking dangerous and feral. “I’m not taking Daciana’s safety lightly.”
Lucian nods. “I’ll have them ready as quickly as possible.”
An hour later, I’m standing in front of a shimmering portal in the courtyard, my heart hammering so hard, I can hear it in my ears. I’ve changed into leather pants and a sturdy tunic, my hair braided back. Ready for whatever we may find.
Five of Lucian’s guards, including Leon, stand at attention in full armor, their faces serious and alert. Kieran’s men—Artisem and four others I recognize—flank us on the other side, weapons gleaming in the torchlight. Leon adjusts his sword belt one more time, his expression grim.
“Ready?” Kieran’s hand finds mine and squeezes.
I nod because I can’t speak. Can’t trust my voice not to break.
We step through together.
It’s like suddenly being submerged under water. I hate portals, but Kieran’s fingers are tightly intertwined with mine as he murmurs, “Close your eyes and keep walking.”
I do, and when I open my eyes a minute later, I’m standing in familiar territory. The Silver Stone Pack, with its scent of pine and damp earth, and the familiar chill in the air that seeps into your bones even in summer. I let out a nostalgic sigh that ends up feeling like a punch to the gut.
It’s late, the moon high and bright overhead, casting everything in shades of silver and shadow. The houses are dark, most shifters already asleep for the night. But I can feel eyes on us. Can sense the pack stirring, aware of our presence.
I don’t wait for the others. My feet carry me forward automatically, muscle memory taking over. Down the dirt path I’ve walked a thousand times. Past familiar houses and landmarks that bring back memories I’d rather forget.
Then, I’m standing in front of the wooden house where I grew up.
The door is unlocked.
That’s the first thing that is wrong. My father always locked the door at night. Always.
Maybe Lucian’s scouts left it unlocked.
“Daciana, wait.” Kieran’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder, gentle but firm.
I shrug it off and push the door open.
The smell hits me immediately, making my stomach turn. Stale air, like the house has been closed up for days or weeks. And underneath that, it’s worse: the sickeningly sweet, cloying stench of rotting food.
It’s wrong. Everything is wrong.
I step into the kitchen and freeze.
The table still has plates on it. Six of them, one for each member of my family. Food, congealed and moldy. Flies buzzing lazily around the mess. One chair is pushed back at an odd angle, as if the person in it stood up violently mid-meal. As if someone left and never came back.
My hand flies to my mouth.
“Daciana.” Kieran is beside me now, his presence solid but unable to ground me against what I’m seeing.
