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“Fuck you both,” he hisses, and his voice cracks from all the betrayal he can’t shove down. “You deserve what’s⁠—”

Vae’s door swings back open so hard it slams into the wall. Caelan’s venom-laced words die in his throat as we both take in a fully dressed Valeanor, looking wide-awake and borderline chipper.

He reaches over and shoves a pair of my own shoes—Where did he get these?—into my hands.

“What the fuck are we waiting for?” he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Let’s go, losers. We’ve got an Omega to find!”

He takes off, shouldering past us both. I shove my feet into my shoes and follow, catching up when Caelan slams to a stop halfway down the hall. Frowning, he lifts his fist and presses his palm against his sternum.

The movement is oddly familiar.

He scans the hall, like he’s looking for something no one else can see. Then, as if someone’s yanked a string attached to his spine, he straightens, every muscle in his body coiling tight.

With a curse, he taps into his enhanced speed and shoots off. We follow as he races through our wing, down the stairs, and through the first-floor halls until we reach the back exit to the training yard.

“What the fuck was that?” Vae asks, but Caelan ignores him. He yanks the door open and disappears into the cool night beyond.

I bolt after him. “Where the fuck are we going?”

Our Pack Bond is thrumming with anxiety so thick I can damn near taste it. It’s disorienting to have Caelan’s side of the Bond open like this. Out of all three of us, he’s the one who keeps his end locked down the most, especially during high-stress situations.

But there’s also something else there. A thin, wispy feeling of curiosity, muffled.

“I can feel her,” Caelan murmurs.

The sky is pitch black save for a scattering of stars that glint like diamonds. A half moon provides most of the illumination, hanging so low in the sky I’d swear it’s leaning in to pay attention. I take a deep breath, letting the cool, crisp air fill my lungs and clear away the last vestiges of sleep from my system.

I try not to think of worst-case scenarios, but my instincts won’t let me relax, tossing out image after image of all the ways Idril might be trapped or taken or hurt or⁠—

We’re halfway across the yard when I see it.

A line of fire snakes through the grass and into the forest beyond. The entire area is still a mess of broken trees and crushed branches, and the line of fire winds through it, lighting the way like a path to Hell.

I slow down, following the flames with my eyes and trying to see where it leads. I swear it’s getting shorter, like a fuse that's burning itself out.

At the opposite end, illuminated just enough to be visible in the blanket of darkness, I can just barely make out a figure.

Barefoot, with pale legs that disappear into the bottom of an oversized sweatshirt that falls nearly to her knees. I don’t need to see the waterfall of white hair flowing down her back, or the way the strands gleam silver in the moonlight to know who it is.

Idril.

“Omega!” Caelan’s shout pierces the eerie silence and echoes through the night. A flight of birds roosting in the still-standing pines startles at the sound. They explode into the sky, wings beating as they disappear into the dark of the night.

Idril doesn’t react. Doesn’t give any sign that she heard anything at all. The way her head is angled makes it easy to see she’s focused on the ground.

Or, more specifically, the glimmering line of fire that’s leading her into the trees.

What the fuck is she doing? Is she sleepwalking, maybe?

“Where did that fire come from?”

“Branwen,” Caelan answers, and by some unspoken agreement, we pick up the pace. There’s probably less than one hundred and fifty feet separating us from Idril, but for some reason the distance feels endless. My own anxiety soars higher, and the closer she gets to the forest, the more sure I am that I cannot let her reach the trees.

Vae shoots Caelan a look like he’s crazy. “What are you talking about? Branwen set that fire?”

Caelan doesn’t answer Vae’s question. Instead, he growls and pushes himself to run faster. I don’t ask questions. I simply match his pace.

I can practically feel my Pack reaching the same conclusion I have. Their anxiety merges with mine, thrumming through the air around us.