I don’t bother with pleasantries. “Tell me you found her.”
“No luck.” His frustration bleeds through the line. “But I’ve got her name and picture at every transport hub. Planes, trains, buses. If she tries to leave the territory, we’ll know within minutes.”
It’s better than nothing.
“I’m heading to the massacre site tomorrow,” I say. “Meeting with the other pack alphas and their investigative teams.”
“You sure that’s a good idea? With Violet missing?”
“I need to wrap up the hybrid issue before I leave the pack.” Before everything falls apart completely. “Tell me the minute you locate her.”
“You know I will.”
The line goes dead.
I sit in my car, the engine ticking as it cools, and let my head fall back against the seat. My hands find my face, fingers digging into my temples.
“Where are you, Violet?” The words come out broken, barely more than a whisper.
The beast inside me howls, a sound of pure anguish. We’ve lost her. Lost our mate before we even had a chance to explain.
The bond we’ve been denying throbs in my chest, an open wound that won’t close. Every hour she’s gone, it gets worse. The need to find her, to know she’s safe, consumes everything else.
I should have told her. Should have explained everything insteadof letting her walk away that night at the gala. Should have forced her to listen. Should have fucking groveled for her forgiveness.
But I didn’t. I let her go with nothing but confusion and hurt between us, and now she’s out there somewhere, alone and unprotected, and I have no idea how to find her.
My phone remains dark and silent. No miraculous breakthrough from Ethan.
Just me and this aching emptiness, drowning in the terrible certainty that we’ve destroyed the one good thing we’ve ever had.
The massacre sitesits like a wound on the edge of my pack’s territory. Eleven years haven’t softened the desolation. Houses still stand, most of them anyway, their walls scarred with claw marks and burn patterns. Magic and violence tore through here, leaving destruction that time can’t fully erase.
I stand at the center of what used to be a small hybrid settlement, watching investigators from three different packs move through the rubble.
It’s our second day here, and I’m losing my mind.
All I want to do is abandon this investigation, track down my mate, and fix what I’ve broken. But I need to close this chapter first.
I check my phone again. Still nothing. No calls, no texts.
“You need to see this,” one of the investigators calls out.
I pocket my phone and follow the voice. Soren, a tracker from Calloway’s Blue River Pack, stands at the entrance of a two-story house. What’s left of it, that is. He is exiting as I approach, his expression troubled.
I squint at the structure, trying to place it. The paint has long since peeled away, and the windows are shattered, but the bones of it are familiar.
“Whose house was this?” Soren asks.
“A prominent hybrid lived here,” I say slowly, thememory coming back. “He was a soldier of sorts. If there was a disagreement among the hybrids or with shifters, he mediated the dispute.”
Soren exchanges a glance with his partner. “This seems to be the point of origin.”
My stomach tightens. “How can you determine that?”
“The daughter’s room. There should have been no reason for violence to start there.” He jerks his head toward the house. “Come see.”
I follow him inside. The stairs creak under our weight, protesting after years of neglect. Upstairs, the hallway opens to three rooms. Soren leads me to the one at the end.
