Connor shrugs. “She earned it. You should’ve seen her in there—stitching wounds, setting bones, keeping everyone calm. The woman’s a force of nature when she’s in healer mode.”
Pride swells in my chest. That’s my mate he’s talking about. My Skylar.
I nod my thanks and push through the door.
The medical center is calmer than I expected. Most of the beds are still occupied, but the frantic energy I imagine was present earlier has faded into something more subdued. Wolves rest while healers shuffle between them to check vitals and adjust bandages. The smell of antiseptic and blood saturates the room, and I breathe through my mouth to avoid the worst of it.
Sera looks up from a patient’s chart as I pass, and she points toward the back of the building without me having to ask.
“Thanks,” I tell her, and I head for the back courtyard.
Fern intercepts me halfway there with her blonde hair escaping from its ponytail and dark circles under her eyes. She’s been working just as hard as everyone else despite being pregnant, and I make a mental note to tell Connor to drag her home soon.
“Bryan, thank God.” She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Are you okay? We heard the fighting was bad out there.”
“I’m fine. A few scratches, nothing serious.” I’m already looking past her toward the back door. “Have you seen Skylar?”
“She went outside to take a break. Said she needed some air after—” Fern stops mid-sentence, and her brow furrows. “Actually, that was a while ago. Twenty minutes or so. She should be back by now.”
Twenty minutes. That seems like a long time for a break, especially for Skylar. She’s not the type to sit idle when there’s work to be done. A small knot forms in my stomach, though I can’t explain why.
“I’ll go check on her,” I say, though my feet are already moving before the words leave my mouth.
The door to the back courtyard is closed when I reach it, and something cold settles in my gut as I push it open. The courtyard is empty and silent. The benches are vacant in the darkness while roses climb the eastern wall in neat rows, but there’s no sign of Skylar anywhere.
“Skylar?”
No response comes back.
I step into the courtyard and eye every shadow, every corner where she might be sitting, standing, or resting. Nothing. The space is completely deserted, and it makes my wolf stir uneasily beneath my skin.
She should be here. Connor and Fern both said she came out here twenty minutes ago. Where the hell did she go?
I circle the courtyard once, then twice, searching for any sign of her. My heart beats faster with each passing second. Maybe she went back inside through a different entrance. Maybe she’s in the supply room or the break area or somewhere else I haven’t checked yet.
That’s when I catch it—her scent, faint but unmistakable, leading toward the back gate. I follow it without thinking asmy feet carry me across the flagstones and through the narrow opening in the hedge.
The gate leads to a small parking lot behind the medical center. Staff use it during shift changes, but at this hour, it’s mostly empty. A few cars sit in scattered spaces with their windows dark. Overhead, a single lamp flickers and buzzes.
Skylar’s scent is stronger here, and I follow it across the parking lot with dread building in my chest. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong. I can feel it in my bones, in the way my wolf is pacing and snarling inside my chest.
Her trail ends abruptly near the back fence.
I stop and inhale deeply as I try to separate the threads of scent tangled together in this spot. Skylar was here. The smell of honeysuckle and herbs is unmistakable. But there’s something else underneath it, something that makes my blood run cold.
Cheslem.
Their corrupted stench mingles with Skylar’s scent in a way that tells me they were close to her. Too close. Touching-distance close. And underneath all of it, barely detectable but definitely there, I catch the acrid chemical smell of chloroform.
Shit.
I spin in a circle as I search for any sign of which direction they went. The scent trail continues past the fence into the woods beyond, but it’s already starting to fade. They have a head start. They could be anywhere by now.
My wolf rushes forward, and I barely manage to keep him from taking over. Every instinct I have screams at me to run, to hunt down the wolves who took my mate and tear them apart with my bare hands. The beast inside me doesn’t care aboutstrategy or planning or the very real possibility that I’m walking into a trap. He only cares about Skylar.
I’m halfway over the fence when a hand clamps down on my shoulder and yanks me backward.
“Bryan. Stop.”
