Chapter 17
SOMETHING WASwrong.
Caius woke before dawn as usual, with a pit of dread in his stomach that he knew well. During his years of service, he’d learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts were currently screaming at him that his pack was in danger.
He headed downstairs and across the den, lingering at the second set of stairs leading to Quinn’s lair as he breathed in. He smelled Quinn and Max, and the lingering scent of Lukas. And sex.
The dread lessened a bit at knowing at least those two were safe and where they belonged. Lukas was routinely called away for missions, but this felt different, a shiver of unease along his nerves that only worsened when his phone rang.
The name of Lukas’ CO flashed on the screen.
“Ward,” he answered.
“Colonel,” Adams said, tension in his voice.
“What happened?” He didn’t appreciate the sigh or the long pause before Adams responded.
“At 0530, we lost contact with Corporal Hunt’s plane over the Pacific.”
Caius didn’t hear much after that. Adams’ words became muffled white noise for an eternal moment.
Lukas wasn’t dead. He knew that much at the very least, thanks to their pack bond, but he could very well be dying, and Caius wouldn’t know until that tenuous bond snapped and disappeared.
Someone shouted his name and he blinked, finding Quinn’s hazel eyes an inch from his own. Quinn’s wrist pressed against his neck, the subtle scent of cinnamon and pack warm between them.
He grasped Quinn’s wrist and breathed deep, grounding himself in the here, in pack. The phone was still in his hand, but the call had disconnected at some point. He couldn’t blame Adams for that; he’d been on the other end of those phone calls before, when he’d lost men in the line of duty. He’d hoped to never be on the receiving end.
“What’s going on?” Max asked, standing by the table, arms wrapped around himself.
Caius instinctively reached for him, relieved when Max sat beside him. “Lukas was called for a mission last night.” He hesitated to say more, wishing modern pack bonds were strong enough to give more information than alive or dead and a general sense of direction. Maybe they had offered more centuries ago, but whatever magic was inherent in them had faded with time. Or maybe was lost with the advent of technology.
“His plane went down.” The sound Max made threatened to rip his chest in two, but he kept most of his attention on Quinn, wincing at the bite of nails on the back of his neck.
“He’s not dead,” Quinn said, desperation in his voice.
“No.” Caius moved his grip to Quinn’s neck in return. “He’s alive.”
Quinn let out a shuddering breath and grabbed Caius’ phone without pulling away. He dialed Lukas’ number, but the phone went straight to voicemail.
“How do you know he’s alive?” Max asked, pressing into Caius’ side.
“The pack bond is still there.”
“I thought that was something Hollywood made up.”
Ironically, that was one of the few things they got right.
The fifth time Quinn dialed into Lukas’ voicemail, Caius gently took the phone back and disconnected the call. “We’ll find him,” he said. He didn’t believe this was a random accident. Technology might fail them at times, but magic was more than enough to supplement and protect against a military plane going down outside of battle.
The Order was behind this somehow, which meant they’d dug their poisonous claws into the US government or military far deeper than he’d ever anticipated.
Quinn finally let go and stood. “I’m going to try tracking his phone.”
Caius nodded, waiting until Quinn disappeared downstairs before turning to Max.
“How can I help?”
“I don’t know yet.” Caius pulled him closer, breathing in his scent, the mix of Lukas and Quinn beneath it. It should have irritated him, but if anything, it grounded him further. “I need to make some calls.” He had a few contacts he could still trust to tell him what they knew, even if he was technically a civilian now.
