Chapter 2
· King Soren ·
Branches whip at my face, each lash searing into me that time is slipping through my fingers as howls rip through the night.
Panic swells within me, an unrelenting emotion that propels my legs forward faster than I’ve ever dared to run.
The soles of my boots are hot, and I can feel the thick soles burning my feet and the uneven forest floor.
My breath uneven, creating white plumes in the chilled air that dissipates as quickly as my hope when I don’t find him straightaway.
I know he would have had to go through the forest; my men would have spotted him if he tried to go through the front gates.
My chest heaves with each heartbeat. I can almost feel the moon’s mocking gaze, its cool light casting long, grotesque shadows that seem to reach for me, as if the darkness itself is alive, hungering for the dread that clings to me like a second skin.
Sweat beads on my brow, despite the crisp air that stings my lungs.
It’s not just the physical exertion; it’s the horror of the unknown, the terrifying possibility of what might happen if I don’t reach him in time.
The stakes have never felt so dire, and every fiber of my being screams for me to push harder.
“Max!” The desperation in my shout shreds the heavy silence.
I push through the underbrush, heart slamming against ribs with enough force to crack bone.
Leaves slap and tear at my skin, as unforgiving as the reason propelling me forward.
My son, my little boy lost to the night that should have cradled him safely within the castle’s stone walls.
“Max!” I scream yet again. Ahead, the sound of the river grows louder. “Max!” The urgency in my call cleaves through the tumultuous roar of the river as I crash through the underbrush. I catch a glimpse of movement ahead.
He’s there; Max stands precariously close to where the water churns with relentless power, the mist drenching him. His small form is etched sharply against the haze. His cries, sharp and fraught with terror, cut through the noise of rushing water.
Branches snap underfoot as I jolt forward, the mist clinging to my skin like cold dread. Max’s voice pierces the night, frayed with desperation. “Bree! Bree!”
“Max!” I reach for his trembling form, my hands clasp onto his shoulders, yanking him back from where death froths and churns below as the water moves toward the waterfall. His body convulses with sobs, his tiny frame shaking as if the terror of whatever has scared him has sunk into his very bones.
“Max, look at me!” I plead, needing those wild, darting eyes to focus, to find an anchor in mine. He fights against my hold, limbs flailing, wanting to escape from my grasp.
Giving him a shake, I force him to look at me.
“Where’s Bree?” The question tumbles from my lips.
My gaze flits across the tangled undergrowth, the silvery moonlight casting long, slithering shadows on the forest my men are coming out of.
They create a perimeter immediately. My ears strain for a sign, a whimper or rustle that would tell me where Bree is.
I know she wouldn’t have let him walk home on his own or did he not make it to her place at all?
Peering around, there’s nothing and no one else except a dead body discarded on the ground of a man.
Max’s sobbing slows as he clings to me, his small fingers digging into my arms. His eyes are still glazed with terror. I pull him closer to shield him with my body, even as I scan for any hint of where Bree went.
The thought of my guards having to wrestle her to safety sends a shiver down my spine. Bree is like a fawn, skittish and delicate; though she wouldn’t be in wolf form. However, the thought of their rough hands on her makes my stomach turn.
“Stay close, Max,” I murmur, my voice a low command meant to soothe.
He nods against my chest, his breaths coming in jagged hitches.
With one arm securely around him, I raise my other hand to signal the men and am about to send them off for her while I take Max home, only Max lashes out once again, wailing and screaming.
“No… Not without Bree!” he screams.
“Where is she, Max?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the dread that tightens around my own heart like a vice.
“Down there,” he gasps between sobs, pointing to the relentless plunge of water. “She jumped... You have to get her, she jumped...”
The words hit me as I turn to look at the waterfall, I stagger a step back in shock.
“What?”
“She told me to run, I was scared then… she started to shift.” Bree, the rogue who’d found her way into our lives, now potentially sacrificed herself to the merciless raging waters for my son.
“Stay with the guards, Max,” I instruct, though my voice sounds distant to my ears, drowned out by the roar of the river.
Damian’s hand shoots out, snatching Max by the back of his pajama top. The boy is wild, hysteria and fear pumping through his small frame as he tries to lunge toward the waterfall’s edge again.
“Soren!” Damian growls. “This is why a rogue should never be near your son. They are dangerous—”
“Let me go!” Max screams, thrashing in Damian’s grip like a caught animal. His face is streaked with tears and dirt, his eyes wide pools reflecting the moonlight. “Bree! Bree!”
“Max, calm yourself,” I say. Damian is still yelling at me for my carelessness yet, I’m staring into the river looking for any sign of her. Not wanting to believe she plunged from this height.
“Damian, enough,” I command as I turn to glare at him, my words falter when I follow Max’s gaze. The waterfall churns below us relentlessly, there’s no sign of Bree.
“She jumped!” Max’s cry slices through the tumult of rushing water and the heavy night air. “She knew… she was gonna turn… she didn’t wanna hurt me!”
“Jumped?” Damian echoes, skepticism lacing his tone, even he can’t hide a flicker of concern as he peers into the depths.
“Please,” Max begs, the word broken, “she hasn’t come up. You have to save her!”
As I peer into the water, I’m met with nothing except darkness, swallowing all hope with it.
“Take him back to the castle,” I command, my gaze locked on the waterfall’s furious cascade. The guards exchange glances, their unease palpable even in the dim light filtering through the trees.
“Your Majesty, we should all search—” begins Damian. I cut him off with a sharp look.
“Max needs to be safe,” I insist, feeling the feral edges of my nature bristle beneath the surface. “Now.”
“Daddy, no!” Max protests, his voice wavering between fear and defiance. “I won’t leave her!”
“Son, if she’s down there,” I say softly, trying to mask the dread that claws at my chest. I don’t finish.
The roar of the waterfall fills my ears as Damian snatches up my thrashing son. I strip off my coat and shirt, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. I embrace the shift. Bones crack and reform, pain and power raging through me as fur replaces skin.
“Soren, what do you think—”
With a growl, I leap into the churning waters below hearing Damian screaming after me. In this form my body can take a battering and heal quickly.
The impact with the water is like a hard slap, stinging my skin and temporarily driving the air from my lungs.
I battle the rapid currents, my powerful limbs slicing through the water.
The icy water bites at my fur the force of the waterfall is relentless as my hands brush against sharp rocks beneath me.
My eyes, accustomed to the dark, catch sight of her—Bree’s limp form caught and pushed into the rocks at the bottom, the water beating down on her.
There’s no time to hesitate; every second she remains submerged is a second too long.
I reach her, my hands gripping her arm as I try to drag her out.
With powerful kicks, I propel us toward the surface.
Breaking through the water’s grip, we emerge into the night air, Bree limp in my arms as I drag her closer, clutching her to my chest.
With a final effort, I surge toward the nearby riverbank.
My claws dig into the wet soil, pulling us out of the water.
The moment we’re clear of the river’s grasp, I slump back, breathless.
Bree’s body is lifeless in my arms, her skin deathly pale in the moonlight.
I shake her gently, calling her name, but receive no response.
Panic rises in my throat, choking me. “Bree!” I growl out again, more desperate this time.
She can’t be gone. Not after everything.
Her chest is still. No gentle rise and fall that indicates life. I press my ear against her chest searching for a heartbeat? A gasp? A sign she is alive.
Nothing.
My hands move to her chest, as I try to remember how to do CPR.
“Come on, Bree!” I murmur, pressing my hands onto her sternum in a rhythmic motion, trying to force her heart to beat.
“Don’t do this!” I continue chest compressions, my heart pounding with each passing second.
It’s been too long since she’s taken her last breath.
Too long since that spark in her eyes dimmed out. But I can’t—won’t—give up on her.
I tilt back her head and pinch her nose closed, taking a deep breath before sealing my mouth over hers and breathing into it.
Two breaths before I resume the chest compressions.
My ears strain for any sounds of life over the deafening rush of the waterfall nearby.
“Breathe,” I implore, my voice choking with dread.
“Please, Bree.” I beg as my guard rushes down toward us.
The night air grows colder. My arms are tiring but I don’t dare stop. Not until I hear it, a faint cough, weak but undoubtedly there.
Suddenly, her body convulses beneath me. Water gushes from her mouth and nose as she sputters. Her eyes snap open dazed and confused.
She gasps for air, raggedly drawing in lungfuls as she continues to cough up water. Beneath my hand, there’s now the unmistakable thump-thump-thump of a heartbeat that wasn’t there before.
Adrenaline rushes through me as I roll her onto her side. She chokes, coughing out water in painful wheezes. Her body shudders with the effort, but she’s breathing.
“Bree!” My voice rumbles out in relief as I gently stroke back strands of hair from her face.
As she fights for breath, moonlight reveals the cruelty she has endured. Large gashes mar her flesh, which must be caused by the dead rogue Damian found. Cradling her close, I lift her into my arms.
“Stay with me, Bree,” I urge, my voice rough with the remnants of my Lycan growl. “You’re safe now.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she meets my gaze. There is no need for words; her gratitude, intermingled with pain, conveys more than language ever could. Silence wraps around us, punctuated only by her labored breathing and the distant sound of the waterfall.
“Max?” she chokes out.
“You didn’t hurt him,” I tell her when her eyes widen, her pupils dilate, and I see the moon’s reflection in them as her shift takes hold in my arms. Damian and my guard step forward, ready to subdue her, but one growl from me has them backing up.
“Get my son home and unlock the observatory!” I order just as her teeth tear into my arm. I growl as she rips at my flesh before forcing the shift back to my Lycan form. I’m not letting her go, I’m not leaving her out here unprotected.