Chapter 4 - Patrick
I wake up alone, and my wolf starts howling before I even open my eyes.
The space beside me is empty. The sheets are cold. Caelan’s scent lingers on the pillow like a ghost, sweet and floral and absolutely maddening, but the woman herself is gone.
I sit up and look around the room, hoping to find her in the bathroom or standing by the window or anywhere that isn’t completely absent.
The bathroom door is open, but there’s nothing but darkness inside.
Her dress is gone from the floor where it landed last night.
Her heels are missing from the spot by the door.
She left. She actually left.
My wolf throws himself against the inside of my skull, snarling and snapping with a fury I’ve never felt from him before.
Last night, I thought the connection between us was just the alcohol and the adrenaline and the fact that I hadn’t touched a woman in longer than I cared to admit.
I told myself the pull I felt toward her was nothing more than lust, that the way my wolf perked up when she walked into that bar was simple attraction and nothing deeper.
I was wrong.
She’s my mate. The realization crashes through me with the force of a breaking wave, undeniable and overwhelming.
My wolf knew it from the moment her scent hit us across that crowded room.
He knew it when I kissed her, when I took her to my bed, and when I buried myself inside her and felt something click into place that I hadn’t even known was missing.
And now she’s gone, the bond between us sits incomplete in my chest, and my wolf is losing his goddamn mind.
I throw the covers off and tear through the room like a madman.
I check under the bed, inside the dresser drawers, behind the single chair in the corner.
I’m looking for something, anything, that might tell me where she went.
A note jotted down on the back of a receipt.
A phone number scratched into the dust on the nightstand.
A clue about where she’s staying or how to find her again.
There’s nothing. She left nothing behind except the lingering smell on my sheets and a pain in my chest that makes it hard to breathe.
The absence feels like a wound, fresh and throbbing, and I don’t understand how someone I’ve known for less than twelve hours can leave such a gaping hole in her wake.
I rub the heels of my palms against my eyes and tell myself to think. Panicking won’t help. Tearing this room apart won’t help. My wolf wants me to burst out that door and track her through the streets of Grayhide territory until I find her, but that’s not a plan. That’s just a suicide mission.
She’s Llewelyn. She told me that much last night. She mentioned a sister, someone she was visiting in Grayhide territory. Someone she didn’t want to worry.
That’s not a lot to go on, but it’s something.
My wolf paces beneath my skin, restless and agitated and demanding action.
He wants to track her down right this second.
He wants to claim her, to sink my teeth into the soft skin where her neck meets her shoulder and mark her as mine forever.
He wants to make sure every male in the territory knows she belongs to me and that touching her means death.
The possessiveness of it shocks me. I’ve never felt anything like this before, this all-consuming need to find and protect and possess.
Thornridge wolves don’t believe in true mates.
Mordaunt calls it a fairy tale, a weakness that other packs indulge in because they’re too soft to make rational choices about their futures.
I’ve spent sixteen years believing him, accepting his word as gospel, because questioning him meant pain.
But there’s nothing rational about what I’m feeling right now. Nothing soft about the way my wolf is clawing at my insides, demanding I go after her. This feeling is primal and ancient and completely beyond my control, and I don’t know whether to be terrified or grateful that it exists.
I draw in a deep breath and convince myself to calm down. I can track her scent. I can find her. I can explain what we are to each other and figure out what the hell we’re supposed to do about it.
But first, I need to get back to Thornridge territory before anyone notices how long I’ve been gone.
I’ve been away for two days now. That’s longer than I intended, longer than I can reasonably explain away if someone asks where I’ve been.
Mordaunt has eyes everywhere, and the last thing I need is to draw attention to myself while I’m still figuring out how to extract myself from this pack without getting killed in the process.
Disappearing for days without permission is exactly the kind of behavior that gets wolves dragged before the alpha for questioning.
I dress quickly and pull on the same clothes I wore last night because they’re all I have. The shirt smells like Caelan. Like us. My wolf rumbles with satisfaction at the scent, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from burying my nose in the fabric like some kind of lovesick pup.
Focus. I need to focus.
I leave the room key on the dresser and slip out the back entrance of the tavern to avoid being seen.
The morning is cool and gray, with clouds hanging low over the Grayhide landscape and threatening rain.
I keep my head down as I walk through the empty streets, following the route I memorized when I first arrived.
A few early risers are out walking their dogs or heading to work, but none of them give me a second glance.
My plan is simple. Get back to Thornridge territory, check in with whoever’s keeping tabs on my whereabouts, and then find an excuse to return to Grayhide as soon as possible.
I’ll track Caelan’s scent from the bar, figure out where her sister lives, and find a way to talk to her without scaring her off.
She agreed to see me again. That has to mean something.
I need to tell her the truth. About what we are to each other. About who I really am.
That second part terrifies me more than I want to admit.
She thinks I’m just some troubled Grayhide wolf drowning his sorrows in whiskey, running from my problems. She has no idea I’m Thornridge and that I’ve spent years doing the bidding of a pack that wants to destroy everything she holds dear.
When she finds out the truth, she might never want to see me again.
The thought makes my wolf whine with distress, but I push the feeling aside. I can’t build a future on lies. If there’s any chance of making this work, she needs to know who I am and what I’ve done. She needs to make an informed choice about whether she wants me in her life.
The thought of her choosing to walk away makes my wolf snarl, but I push him down. I won’t force her. I won’t manipulate her or trick her into staying with me. That’s Bastian’s playbook, not mine, and I’ve seen firsthand how much damage that approach causes.
I’m about halfway to the border when I catch a familiar scent on the wind, and every muscle in my body goes rigid.
No. Not here. Not now.
I slow my pace but don’t stop walking. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my senses are playing tricks on me after a night of too much whiskey and too little sleep. Maybe the stress of the morning is making me paranoid.
“Patrick!” a voice rings out from the tree line to my left, cheerful and mocking in equal measure. “What a surprise. Fancy meeting you here.”
I stop walking and turn to face the speaker.
Bastian Corvelli steps out from behind a cluster of scrub brush, flanked by two other Thornridge wolves I recognize from the inner circle.
Rylan and Dolph, both loyal to Mordaunt down to their bones.
They’re the kind of wolves who follow orders without question and enjoy the violence that comes with it.
Bastian is smiling, and that smile makes my blood run cold.
I clear my throat and keep my voice neutral and my posture relaxed. “I didn’t expect to see you out here, Bastian.”
“I imagine not.” He saunters toward me like he has all the time in the world, and he’s preparing for idle chitchat. “We’ve been looking for you, Patrick. Two days is a long time to be off the grid. Mordaunt was starting to worry.”
“I needed some space. Time to clear my head after the last mission.”
“Understandable. Watching your packmates die can be traumatic.” The sympathy in his voice is faker than a three-dollar bill.
Bastian doesn’t care about the wolves we lost. He wasn’t even there when it happened, safely tucked away at the rear while the rest of us bled and died for Mordaunt’s obsession.
“But you should have told someone where you were going. We’re supposed to be a family, after all. ”
The word family makes me want to laugh in his face. Thornridge hasn’t felt like a family in years, if it ever did. It’s a prison with invisible bars, held together by fear and violence and the fact that leaving means death.
“I’ll remember that next time,” I tell him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to report in.”
I start to walk past him, but Bastian steps into my path. He’s still smiling, but something dangerous lurks behind his eyes. I’ve seen that look before, usually right before he does something cruel.
“Not so fast. We need to talk about what you’ve been doing out here in enemy territory.” He pauses, letting the words hang in the air between us like a blade waiting to fall. “Or should I say, who you’ve been doing.”
My stomach drops as Bastian reaches into his pocket and pulls out a photograph.
It’s grainy, clearly taken from a distance and probably from some kind of hidden surveillance point, but the image is unmistakable.
Caelan and I on the dance floor at the Rusty Fang, with her arms over my shoulders and her body against mine.
We’re looking at each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
“You’ve been busy,” Bastian comments. “A Llewelyn woman. That’s bold, even for you.”
“It was just a hookup. She doesn’t mean anything.”
My wolf snarls at me for saying it, for denying what Caelan is to us, but I can’t let Bastian know the truth. If he finds out she’s my mate, he’ll use her against me. He’ll use her against her own pack, just like he used Raegan Blacklock.
“Just a hookup.” Bastian tucks the photograph back into his pocket, still wearing that infuriating smile. “That’s not what it looked like to our scouts. They said you two were pretty cozy. Talked for hours. Danced. Left together.”
“Your scouts should mind their own business.”
“Their business is Mordaunt’s business. And Mordaunt’s business is making sure our wolves stay loyal. You understand, don’t you, Patrick? After everything that’s happened lately, we can’t afford to have anyone going soft on us.”
“I’m not going soft.”
“Good. Because Mordaunt has a job for you. As you know, he’s been watching the Llewelyn pack for months now. Looking for weaknesses, points of entry. And then you go and seduce one of their women without even being asked.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying congratulations are in order.
” Bastian claps me on the shoulder like we’re old friends celebrating a victory.
“You’ve found us an in. A Llewelyn female, connected to the leadership family, based on those pretty Thornwick features.
Sera Thornwick’s sister, if our intelligence is correct.
Mordaunt is very impressed with your initiative. ”
“I didn’t—”
“The matriarchal pack has always been our next target,” Bastian continues, talking over me like I haven’t spoken.
“A territory run by women, isolated from the male-dominated alliance. Mordaunt’s convinced they’ll be the easiest to break once we’re ready to move.
And now, thanks to you, we have a way inside. ”
I stare at him as my mind races. He wants me to use Caelan. He wants me to exploit the connection between us, to leverage my relationship with her as a weapon against her own people.
The thought makes me want to vomit.
“I can see you’re overwhelmed,” Bastian says, misreading my silence as awe rather than horror. “But think about it, Patrick. This could be your ticket to the inner circle. No more grunt work, and no more suicide missions. You play this right, and Mordaunt might actually start to trust you.”
Rylan and Dolph move up to flank him, cutting off any chance of escape. Not that I was planning to run. Running would only confirm their suspicions that something is wrong, and then they’d hunt me down before I could warn anyone.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Bastian continues.
“You’re going to go back to that Llewelyn woman.
You’re going to make her fall in love with you, gain her trust, and learn everything you can about her pack’s defenses.
And when the time comes, you’re going to help us bring them down from the inside. ”
He pauses, and his smile turns into something ugly.
“Just like I tried to do with Raegan Blacklock. Remember her? The alpha’s sister? This Thornwick girl will be even easier. She’s young and desperate to feel wanted. You just have to tell her what she wants to hear, and she’ll be putty in your paws.”
My wolf is roaring inside me, demanding blood. Demanding I rip Bastian’s throat out for even suggesting we betray our mate. But I stay perfectly still and keep breathing through the red haze of fury.
If I attack him now, Rylan and Dolph will kill me before I can do any real damage. And then there will be no one to warn Caelan about what’s coming for her.
Bastian is watching me, waiting for a response. Behind him, the two Thornridge wolves have their hands near their weapons, ready to act if I make a wrong move. I can feel their eyes on me, measuring my reaction, looking for any sign of disloyalty.
I think about Caelan asleep in my arms, so trusting and so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her.
I think about her laugh cutting through the noise of the bar like music.
I think about the way she looked at me like I was someone worth knowing, someone worth wanting, when I’ve spent years feeling like nothing more than a weapon to be pointed at Mordaunt’s enemies.
And then I think about what Thornridge will do to her if I don’t find a way to stop them.