Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
THALRIC
The salt-tinged wind whipped across Thalric’s face as he stood at the edge of the docks an hour later, his eyes scanning the empty pier with growing unease.
The wooden planks stretched before them like accusatory fingers pointing toward nothing—no Sylar, no thirty enforcers, just the hollow sound of waves lapping against the moorings.
Behind him, twenty of his finest warriors stood at attention, the same men Navira had transformed during her first training session.
Their disciplined silence carried an edge of readiness that spoke to her exceptional coaching, but even their competence couldn’t shake the cold dread settling in his chest like a stone.
Where the hell is he?
Thalric’s jaw tightened as he pulled out his communicator, his fingers moving with sharp efficiency across the device. He dialed Sylar’s number with more force than strictly necessary.
Ring. Ring.
Nothing. The silence on the other end felt like a slap across his face.
“Kaelen,” he called out over his shoulder, his voice carrying unmistakable Alpha authority even as uncertainty gnawed at his gut.
His Beta stepped forward, his dark eyes already reflecting the same skepticism that had been building in Thalric’s mind. “He’s not answering, is he?”
“No.” The word came out clipped and controlled, but Thalric could feel his carefully maintained composure starting to fray at the edges.
Through the completed bond, he felt Navira’s unease radiating like heat—that instinctive wariness she’d been trying to communicate all morning.
She thinks something was wrong.
The thought pressed down on him, but he shoved it aside.
This was no time for mate guilt or second-guessing thirty years of trust. Sylar had been Roman’s head enforcer before becoming his.
The man had literally helped raise him, taught him strategy and combat, stood by his side through every territorial dispute and pack challenge.
“Maybe he’s just two steps ahead like he always is,” Kaelen offered, though his tone carried none of its usual conviction. “Already on his way to the island.”
Thalric latched onto the explanation like a lifeline.
“That makes sense. Sylar’s always overprepared, overready.
” The words felt rehearsed even as he spoke them, but the alternative—that his oldest ally had somehow betrayed him—was unthinkable.
“He probably got impatient when we were a few minutes late and took off without us.”
Even as he rationalized it, pressure built behind his temples.
The war, Navira’s near-death experience, the emotional whirlwind of completing their mate bond this morning—it was all catching up to him at the worst possible moment.
His wolf paced frantically, torn between protective instincts and Alpha duty.
Through their connection, he felt Navira’s frustration spike as the minutes passed.
She’d been trying to tell him something was not adding up, had wanted them to be more cautious, maybe not go at all.
But he’d dismissed her concerns, told her she needed to trust Sylar more, that her instincts were valid but she was still new to pack dynamics.
The memory of her wounded expression when he’d essentially told her to fall in line made his chest tighten with regret. She’d barely spoken to him since, her silence more cutting than any argument could have been.
Focus. Deal with the mate issues later. Right now, you have a territory to protect.
“We can’t afford to wait any longer,” he announced, his voice carrying across the dock with decisive finality. “I can’t miss this meeting with Graven, or the war will escalate beyond anything we can handle.”
The twenty enforcers moved with practiced efficiency toward the sleek vessel moored at the end of the pier. Thalric’s boots echoed against the wooden planks as he strode toward the ship, Navira and Kaelen flanking him.
Within minutes, the ship cut through the pink waters with deadly silence, its engines barely a whisper beneath the hull.
Navira settled into a seat near the bow, her posture rigid with contained tension. “I don’t like this,” she said, her voice carrying clearly over the gentle hum of the motor.
Frustration flared hot in Thalric’s chest—at the situation, at Sylar’s absence, at his own inability to ease his mate’s concerns without compromising his Alpha authority.
“You need to follow my lead right now and trust me,” he said, his tone sharper than intended.
“Trust that I know what I’m doing and will handle everything accordingly. ”
Her blue eyes flashed with hurt before she turned away, staring out at the horizon with stubborn silence.
The bond between them thrummed with her wounded feelings, and Thalric had to physically restrain himself from going to her, from abandoning this entire mission to make things right between them.
Not now. Alpha first, mate second. That’s how this has to work.
But even as Thalric told himself that, his wolf snarled, demanding he comfort his mate.
No. I can’t right now.
Fifteen minutes later, Rocky Point Island emerged from the pink waters like a jagged tooth, all weathered stone and dense vegetation. Relief flooded through Thalric as he spotted a familiar figure standing on the narrow beach—Sylar’s imposing frame silhouetted against the pale sand.
“See?” he said, though the word came out more defensive than victorious. “He was just ahead of the game.”
Kaelen guided the ship close to shore, the hull scraping softly against the sandy bottom.
Thalric stepped off first, his boots sinking slightly into the wet sand as he approached his head enforcer.
Navira followed, and he didn’t tell her to stay back—she was already frustrated with him, and he couldn’t afford to upset her further when he needed to maintain full Alpha focus.
“Why didn’t you wait for us at the docks?” Thalric asked, his voice carrying across the beach.
Sylar looked flustered, his usual composed demeanor cracking slightly around the edges. “I got anxious about this whole meeting. Wanted to make sure some of the enforcers were positioned early.”
The explanation made perfect sense—the kind of strategic thinking that had made Sylar invaluable for three decades. This was the man who’d won countless territorial disputes, who’d protected their pack through every crisis.
“That’s very smart,” Thalric said, and meant it.
Sylar glanced at his watch, the gesture sharp with urgency. “Graven will be here soon. We really need to get into our positions.”
Beside him, Navira’s unease spiked through their bond like a warning bell, but Thalric forced himself to stay focused on the tactical necessities. This meeting could end the war, could protect his pack and territory from further bloodshed.