Chapter 3
THREE
Abe
The worst part is the waiting.
Always has been.
War zones. Ops gone bad. Stakeouts in deserts, cities, and jungles. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but waiting when your mate is locked in a house full of zealots who think kidnapping is holy work?
That’s a different kind of hell.
Christian and I head straight back to the Midnight Haven cabin after we leave the woods.
The sun is barely breaching the horizon when we get there, painting the sky in faint streaks of pink.
The cabin is quiet, but lights flick on inside as soon as we climb the porch steps.
Within minutes, the place fills up as everyone comes in after their patrol shift ends.
Jameson, Cooper, Russo, Julian. Familiar faces.
Family, even if it took me a while to get used to and accept that word.
Christian gets right to it as soon as we sit at the table to debrief.
“We found her,” he says, voice firm but tight. “Roxie. Fern’s friend.”
“My mate,” I add.
The word burns through me, echoing, anchoring, consuming.
Mine.
I lean against the wall near the window, arms crossed over my chest, because I don’t trust myself to sit. I’m too amped up right now.
My wolf is pacing inside me, too big to be contained by muscle and bone, claws raking lines of agitation through my insides. Get her. Now. We need to go now.
I grit my teeth. We can’t rush this. We need a plan to get her out safely.
“Where?” Jameson asks, instantly alert.
I know the last few weeks have been hell for his mate and also for him.
“The cult has her,” I say, voicing our worst fear.
We’ve been searching for Roxie for so long with no sign. We knew she didn’t just disappear and that the cult or Fern’s dad must have had something to do with it, but with no leads, we were starting to lose hope.
“North boundary,” I continue. “Old farmhouse near the grove. Three men brought her in around five this morning.”
Russo curses. Julian mutters something under his breath about idiots. Cooper’s jaw clenches.
“We can’t move on them during daylight,” Christian says as he spreads a map over the table, weighing down the corners with coffee mugs. “Too many eyes. Too exposed.”
“We can’t wait anymore,” I growl, pushing away from the wall. “We go tonight.”
He meets my gaze calmly. “We will. Don’t worry, Abe. We’ll get your girl out safely.”
Relief doesn’t come. Not yet. Not when she’s still there.
“We do this clean. Quiet,” Russo says. “No casualties unless unavoidable. We’re ghosts.”
“We don’t go in as wolves tonight,” Christian agrees. “Not unless we have to shift.”
That makes sense. We’ll freak out my mate if we show up as wolves.
I want to rip out the throat of any man who touched her, my wolf snarls.
You want her safe, I remind him. Focus on that.
Christian looks at me. “You saw her best. Where is she being kept exactly?”
“Ground floor. Back room. Single entry, barred window,” I say, jaw tight. “That would be my best guess anyway.”
“I need to tell my mate that we found her friend,” Jameson says.
I have a moment of panic. I just found my mate, and I don’t want to share her with anyone. I need to get to know her. Need to mark her. Claim her.
Yes, my wolf howls.
She’ll want to see her friend first. God knows what she’s been through.
My wolf growls and paces inside me, not happy about that thought.
I close my eyes for one breath.
Then I shove everything else aside.
Emotion is the enemy of focus. That was drilled into me for years, but this isn’t an op for a flag, a country, or a paycheck.
This is my mate.
“We’ll split up,” Russo says. “Three-man teams. One team secures the perimeter. One covers vehicles. One extracts the girl.”
“I’m on extraction,” I say immediately.
No one argues. They know better.
Christian nods. “You and I go in then. Jameson and Russo will cover the perimeter. Julian and Cooper will sweep the back structures for additional hostiles and cover the vehicles.”
“We bring her home,” Jameson orders.
“We will,” I agree.
Everyone nods. A vow. A promise. A truth.
Because failure isn’t an option that exists.
We spend the next few hours planning. I know everyone must be excited after spending the night on patrol, but no one complains or acts like it.
We go over contingencies. Routes. Timelines. Signals. There’s nothing chaotic about any of this. Calm voices. Controlled movement. Efficient planning.
But under the surface? Tension crackles like electricity before a storm.
Christian catches my arm as the meeting breaks. “You okay?”
No.
“Yes,” I say.
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. “We’ll get her.”
I don’t respond because I know we will. There’s no other option.
But knowing doesn’t silence my wolf.
He presses against me harder with every passing minute. Restless. Furious. Afraid in his own animal way. We need to get her! She needs to be safe and with us.
She will be, I promise him. Soon.
I step outside onto the porch, drawing a deep breath of crisp mountain air. Pine. Earth. The morning dew has almost evaporated. The world feels painfully normal for how wrong everything else is. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out here when the door opens behind me.
“Hey.”
I turn.
Christian stands in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, dark hair tousled, eyes tired but steady. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to say.”
“There’s always something.”
Silence stretches between us. Comfortable. Familiar.
“She needs me,” I say finally. “It feels terrible just standing here.”
“I know, but it won’t be for long. She’ll be in your arms in a matter of hours.”
I nod, and we drink our coffee in silence for a minute.
“Come on. You need to get some rest. Want me to give you something?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m good.”
He claps me on the back, and together we say goodbye to everyone and head home.
I take a shower when I get back and try to relax, but it’s no use. I spend hours pacing my home, counting down the seconds until it’s time to go.
The hours crawl by like injured animals.
I try to keep busy. Paperwork. Training drills. Running with the other guys before they go on patrol. Anything to bleed off the fire burning under my skin.
It doesn’t help.
Every time I blink, I see her.
Struggling. Crying. Frightened.
Her scent lingers like a ghost against the back of my throat, sweet and desperate, calling to parts of me I didn’t know existed.
Sunlight shifts slowly across the floorboards. Noon. Afternoon. Evening. The sky bleeds gold, then bruises to purple and navy.
My wolf howls inside my chest when night finally falls. Now, now, now! Go.
He doesn’t need to tell me twice.
I’m showered and dressed already. Wearing dark clothes. Boots are soft-soled and worn in. Light layers. Nothing that makes noise when I move. Every decision rooted in instinct honed across a lifetime of staying alive.
Weapons? None visible. A slim blade strapped to my thigh. Nonlethal first. Kill only if they force me.
I catch my reflection briefly. I look like what I am—a predator trying to be patient.
Christian meets me at the edge of the woods as the others gather, shapes in the shadows. Low murmurs. Grim determination. I can feel the tension running through the group.
He nods toward the path. “Ready?”
“Yes.”
My wolf surges forward eagerly, muscles coiled tight.
We move as a pack, silent shadows slipping into the tree line. Night presses in around us. Cool. Dense. Familiar. The moon hangs low but narrow, not full. Not yet. My wolf prowls under my skin anyway, riding the razor’s edge of instinct.
Christian walks ahead and slightly to my right. Russo and Jameson melt deeper into the dark like wraiths. Julian and Cooper slip around back like cats. We’ve done this before, but never when the stakes were my heart.
The cult compound emerges through the trees in pieces. A fence. A gravel road. The outline of the farmhouse. A single light glows dimly behind dusty curtains in a far-off building.
My hearing sharpens, filtering through the hum of insects, the whistle of the wind, and the rustle of the leaves, until it finds what it’s searching for.
Breathing. Soft, uneven, strained.
Mate, my wolf howls.
I feel his pain. It magnifies mine tenfold.
I angle my head. “She’s still in there. They haven’t moved her.”
Christian nods.
We tense and wait for Jameson’s low whistle, the signal that the perimeter is clear.
Seconds stretch.
Then—
There. The single note breaks the quiet, and we move.
Christian approaches first, his steps careful and steady. Cooper flanks the right corner. I take the porch, feeling every creak of old wood under my boots like gunfire.
The doorknob turns easily.
Unlocked.
Idiots.
We enter, and the smell hits first.
Rotting wood. Old dust. Damp air.
And beneath it—her.
I swallow, my heartbeat slamming harder against my ribs.
We move through the front room. A sagging couch. A broken lamp. A pile of dishes on a crate that passes for a table.
Then down the hall.
Christian starts clearing the rooms, but I move with purpose straight to the second door on the left.
I don’t breathe as I push it open.
There she is.
Lying on a stained mattress. Hands bound. Ankles tied. Dark hair fanned around her face. Skin pale. Lips parted slightly as she struggles for each breath around the gag.
My wolf goes silent. He’s not calm, far from it. Just… reverent.
Mate.
My knees nearly give out.
I cross the room in three strides and drop to my knees beside her, hands hovering inches from her skin because I don’t dare touch her yet. Not until I know she’s okay. Not until Christian checks her. A second later, he’s at my side and checking her vitals.
“She’s alive,” he says, voice steady. “Deep sedation, though. I can smell the drugs. Pulse is strong.”
I release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
“Cut her loose,” I say, voice rough.
I cut the binds on her wrists while he does her ankles. The rope burns on her wrists makes my hands clench into fists.
Someone did this to her. Someone thought they could take her. Own her. Break her. Rage simmers under the surface, dark and lethal.
As gently as I can, I remove the gag from her mouth. She blinks blurry eyes open at me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“We’ve got to move,” Christian says.
I slide my arms beneath her, lifting her slowly, carefully, like she’s made of glass.
She melts into me instantly, and my heart kicks hard in my chest. She feels so perfect against me, fitting just right in my arms.
Her head drops against my shoulder, and her breath ghosts across my throat. Her scent surrounds me fully now, warm and sweet and alive.
Something in my chest loosens.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, barely above a whisper. “You’re safe.”
My wolf presses closer, wrapping around her presence like a shield.
“Let’s go,” Christian says quietly.
I rise smoothly. Her weight is nothing. Her importance is everything.
We move back through the house and out into the night.
Cold air brushes against her hair. She shivers faintly, even unconscious. I pull her closer, angling my body to block the wind.
“Vehicles secured,” Jameson whispers from the shadows. “Road is clear.”
“Let’s move,” Russo says.
We don’t run. We glide. Every step is quiet, every sense alert, but the woods stay silent. The world seems to hold its breath as we slip back down the path.
When we reach the trucks parked well beyond the compound boundary, I don’t stop walking. Christian opens the back door before I even reach it.
“I’ll drive,” he says.
I nod. No question, no argument.
I settle into the back seat with Roxie still cradled in my arms. Russo climbs into the passenger seat. Christian takes the wheel. The engine starts low and smooth, and I let out a deep breath as we drive.
Trees blur past in the darkness. Gravel crunches. The steady thrum of the road hums beneath us.
I keep my gaze fixed on her face.
Her lashes flutter once. Her lips part with a small sound.
My chest aches.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper again, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with the backs of my knuckles. My voice softens, becoming soothing. “No one’s going to hurt you again. I swear it.”
She sighs as if she believes me, like she already knows.
Christian glances back briefly. “We’ll take her to my place first. Medical check. Fluids. Then—”
“My house,” I finish. “She’s going home.”
His brow lifts slightly, but he doesn’t argue with me.
“Your house it is.”
The rest of the drive passes in silence, but inside me? It’s anything but.
My wolf curls around her like a blanket, content for the first time in years.
Home, he murmurs. Bring our mate home.
She’s safe, I assure him. With us. Where she belongs.
Always, he answers.
I smile as we turn onto my street.
Always, I agree.