“You think it may be a trap?” Weston asked, latching onto the concern with wide eyes and a quivering voice.
“It’s possible,” Keon confessed, though he hoped for teen love or a stupid crush gone wrong.
Whatever happened next, Keon needed to fix it. He couldn’t let Haley pay for his mistakes. Whether she left or was taken, he should have stopped her, made her think, kept her safe. He’d let this happen and needed to bring her home safely. He couldn’t imagine the alternative.
*
BRUSHING AT MILO’Shair to wake him naturally, Keon braced for panic. If Milo was to suffer, Keon could let him wake without panic, to cling to the peace and comfort of his dreams.
Keon kissed him and whispered, “Morning, mikha.”
Milo stretched and buried Keon’s hand between his cheek and the pillow. “Hey.” His brow scrunched as he touched the sheets. “Why is your side of the bed cold? Did you not sleep well?”
“I’m fine,” Keon lied, because it wasn’t important. “A noise woke me. West was scared and smashed a cup in the sink,” he admitted to ease into the news. Milo frowned and sat against the headboard, as Keon perched by his thigh to explain. “I need you to breathe and let me explain.” He saw no easy way to say it. Milo nodded, confusion clear, until he spoke. “Haley is missing.”
Green eyes widened and Milo grabbed his hand, swallowing the words on the tip of his tongue.
“Good. Breathe,” Keon soothed, cupping his neck and rubbing the erratic pulse. Keon explained everything he knew, aware knowledge was golden. Milo listened intently to what West and Isaac knew, and the plan going forward. He said nothing but let Keon wipe his first tear, and the rest that followed. “We’ll look for her. Whether she walked away, went to your father, or someone took her, we’ll find out and check she’s safe.”
Milo gripped his wrist tight. “You let me sleep,” he said, tears welling.
Though it sounded cold, it was the hard truth and Keon wouldn’t lie. “You couldn’t have done anything. You need what rest you can get, because I don’t know how long this will take,” he reasoned, choosing to put honesty ahead of his fears. Like the idea of Milo leaving him to search for Haley alone. Of Milo choosing to return to Thatcher’s pack because Haley wanted to.
Having already lost his mother, Milo wouldn’t lose Haley. Keon didn’t have the strength to ask what he’d do, if forced to choose between them. He already knew Milo would pick Haley. She was the only family he had left.
“I’ve told them to pack supplies for six,” he admitted, though it was stupid and a waste of energy to pack more than needed.
“For when we find Haley,” Milo realised, wiping at his cheeks. “Okay.” Tossing the sheet aside, he went to put his feet on the floor and paused, more tears falling as he caught Keon’s eye. “Maybe you should leave me.”
“No.” Keon wouldn’t go without him. “We’ll do this together, whether you run as your m’weko, or I carry you,” he promised, brushing at Milo’s tears as he tried to control his emotions. He took a breath, composed and prepared for the tough road. “Haley is family. I won’t lose anyone else. Even the spoiled emo brat you call a sister.”
Milo ran a wrist under his nose. “She’d kill you for calling her emo,” he said, reaching for his crutches. He held them to his chest and bravely fought his emotions. “We’ll find her and come home, as a family.” He caught Keon’s hand and squeezed it. “You’ll take me as your mate, and I’ll take you as mine.”
“Deal.”
*
Milo
“HALEY IS MISSING.” The words fell from his lips but felt like a nightmare he couldn’t escape from.
Across the kitchen table, Weston stared with wide eyes full of emotion. “Yes.”
Milo nodded, seeing no way to deny it. He knew it. Keon had told him, and they’d formulated a plan to rescue her, but hearing it from Weston made it more real. Weston was…proper and honest, and it was hard to fight the realisation it was anything but the truth.
His father had always said reality was more painful than a nightmare, and Milo had never wanted to say he was right. This time, he couldn’t pretend.
Haley was gone.
Tears welled, but Milo knew crying wouldn’t resolve anything. He had to gather his strength for a long journey, unaware how long it would take, where they would need to travel, or what he might have to push through. His last journey had been from his father’s pack lands to Keon’s land. If those were the lengths he had to travel, he wasn’t sure he could make it.
A hand landed on his, where it rested on the counter, and Weston gave a weak, sad smile. “I’m sorry.”
“No.” Milo turned his hand, fought for a smile, and took a calming breath. “No one needs to be sorry except the person who took her. Because, as Keon said, you found out soon enough we have a trail to follow, and wewillfollow it. Wewillfind her and bring her home, and that will be the end of this ordeal.” He hoped. If the Mother was kind.
He wouldn’t think of the alternative, and wouldn’t let Weston apologise for not being a fortune teller. If anything, Milo felt ashamed for not keeping a closer eye on his sister, after the disturbing vision from weeks ago. If he’d told Keon or Haley that danger waited in her future, they could have prevented this. If he’d taken the vision of Weston with blood on his hands more seriously, he could have warned everyone.
But that was the curse of his gift. Not knowing when, why, or where the vision would become reality. Not understanding what year it happened, or who might need to know to prepare for signs of the vision coming true.
