Chapter Thirty-Six
Joseph
The steering wheel trembles under my grip, though I can’t tell if it’s the vibration of the car or the unsteady rhythm of my own hands.
My knuckles, pale and strained, press into the black leather with a force that seems like it could crush the wheel.
The car hurtles down the rain-slick highway, water hammering against the windshield in an unrelenting frenzy. It’s as if the storm itself is trying to drown out my thoughts, but it only sharpens them. Each swipe of the wipers clears the glass for the briefest moment, a fleeting window into the road ahead before the downpour consumes it again. Each pass feels like a countdown, the seconds ticking away, dragging me closer to…what?
Her lifeless body?
I choke on the thought, a bitter, jagged thing that lodges itself in my chest.
No. No, I can’t think like that. I won’t let myself think like that.
My jaw tightens as I force the image away, but it clings to the edges of my mind, a dark specter whispering what-ifs and could-have-beens.
Why didn’t I stop her?
The question tears through me like claws raking across tender flesh, ripping through every rational thought I try to summon. My chest tightens, constricting with every beat of my heart. Images of her flood my mind, vivid and relentless. Danae’s face etched with pain and determination. Her eyes shimmering with tears she refused to let fall. The tremor in her voice as she pleaded with me to let her go. I see her as clearly now as I did then, standing on the brink of leaving. My stomach twists as I recall the faint shake of my head, the unspoken permission I gave her.
I let her go.
And I knew. Somewhere deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. My instincts screamed at me to stop her, to pull her back, to hold her until the danger passed. But I didn’t. I just…let her go.
If I’d just…
My fist slams into the wheel with a dull, resounding thud, the leather barely muting the force. “Stupid,” I growl through gritted teeth, the word tearing itself from my throat like a feral thing. The sound is sharper, louder than I intended, cutting through the storm’s cacophony.
From the corner of my eye, I see Adriel stir in the passenger seat. He glances at me, his expression heavy with concern, but he doesn’t speak. Maybe he knows there’s nothing he could say that would make this better. Or maybe he’s just as lost as I am.
“Joseph.” Silas’s voice drifts from the back seat, calm and steady but threaded with that unyielding focus he always carries. It’s the kind of voice that commands attention, even in chaos. “Focus. We’ll find her.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw aching from the effort. “I’m fine,” I snap, the words coming out colder than I intended. It’s a lie and a poor one at that, but I cling to it like a lifeline. If I let myself break now, if I give in to the fear clawing at my insides, I’ll lose her. And that’s not an option.
In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of Silas’s face. His features are sharp, carved into a mask of resolve. But his eyes betray him. They’re narrowed, focused, but there’s something else there—a flicker of understanding. He knows what I’m feeling. Hell, he’s probably feeling it too. But he’s always been better at holding himself together when the world starts to crumble.
I force myself to think of Danae. She’s strong. Stronger than most. She’s faced more in her lifetime than anyone should have to, and she’s come out fighting every time.
She’s a survivor. I repeat that to myself like a prayer, clinging to it as the storm rages on. She’s one of us—a werewolf. She’s fast, resilient. She can endure. She has to.
And yet, doubt creeps in, insidious and unwelcome. There are so many things out there that can kill us. Too many.
“Like nukes…or a plane crash,” I mutter under my breath, the words slipping out before I can stop them. They’re ridiculous, irrational, but they cling to the edges of my mind nonetheless.
Adriel turns his head, his voice cutting through the low hum of the engine. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, my throat dry and tight. I glance at him, then at Silas. Their faces mirror my own turmoil—anxiety etched into every line, tension radiating off them like heat. But beneath the fear, there’s something else. A quiet, unshakable determination. They’ll do whatever it takes to bring her back. Just like I will.
The rain pounds harder, relentless sheets of water cascading down the windshield. Brake lights glare ahead, blood-red beacons cutting through the gloom as traffic slows to a crawl. I don’t slow down. My foot presses harder on the accelerator, the car weaving recklessly between vehicles.
“Joseph…” Adriel’s voice is sharp, tinged with alarm as my reckless driving sends us veering dangerously close to the edge of the road. His hand flies to the dashboard, bracing himself.
I swerve off the highway, the tires splashing through mud and water as horns blare behind us. For a moment, the car teeters, threatening to lose traction, but I pull us back onto the road without a second thought.
“We don’t have time,” I bite out, my voice clipped and cold. There’s no room for caution now. No room for fear.
The city falls away behind us, its sprawling buildings swallowed by the storm. Ahead, the jagged silhouette of the mountains rises, dark and foreboding. The rain eases slightly, but the clouds gather thicker, darker, swirling like some malevolent force. It feels as if the storm itself is alive, raging against us, trying to keep us from reaching her.
“Look,” Adriel says suddenly, his voice tight with urgency. He leans forward, his hand gripping the dashboard as he points out the window.
My eyes follow his gesture, and my stomach lurches.
Black smoke curls into the sky, thick and ominous against the stormy backdrop. It twists and writhes like a living thing, a dark herald of destruction.
“Fuck,” Silas mutters, his voice low and heavy.
A flicker of hope sparks in my chest, but it’s drowned almost immediately by terror. If she’s there, she’s alive. Or…
“Joseph, drive faster,” Silas says, his voice sharp with uncharacteristic urgency.
I don’t hesitate. The engine roars as I push the car to its limits, the tires skidding slightly on the slick pavement. The road narrows as we approach the base of the mountain, the asphalt giving way to gravel and mud. Finally, I slam the brakes, the car skidding to a halt on the muddy shoulder.
“We go on foot from here,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm churning inside me.
The three of us step out into the chaos. The wind tears at my clothes, howling like a wild beast, and the rain lashes against my skin in icy sheets. Thunder crashes overhead, each boom resonating through my chest like the tolling of a bell. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the jagged cliffs and treacherous trails ahead.
Silas takes a step forward, his posture rigid, his face set with grim determination. “We know these mountains better than anyone,” he says, his voice cutting through the storm. “And we all know her scent. Let’s find her.”
I nod, my throat too tight to form words. There’s nothing left to say, anyway.
Without hesitation, Silas shifts. His body contorts, muscles rippling and bones reshaping with a fluidity that’s both beautiful and terrifying. Fur bursts through his skin, dark and sleek, and in seconds, the man is gone. In his place stands his wolf—massive and powerful, its blue eyes burning with purpose.
Adriel follows suit, his transformation just as seamless. The air around us seems to morph, charged with the energy of the change.
I hesitate for the briefest moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Then I let go. The shift comes naturally, instinct taking over as my human form melts away. My senses sharpen instantly—the world exploding into vivid detail. The scent of damp earth and smoke fills my nose, mingling with the electric tang of ozone. The storm’s roar fades to a dull hum, overshadowed by the pounding of my heart.
We take off, our paws striking the rocky terrain with practiced precision. The scent of smoke grows stronger with each step, guiding us like a beacon. The rain-soaked earth clings to my fur, the cold seeping into my skin, but I barely notice. My mind is consumed by one thought, one desperate prayer.
Danae, please. Please be okay.