Chapter 22 - Layla #2
She stepped forward, her shoes crunching on gravel.
The echo of her own movements filled the empty hall.
The long table at the center, where the warriors met for council, was overturned, chairs scattered like the aftermath of a storm.
The fire had burned itself out, leaving only the faint, acrid scent of charred wood.
They had been here. Recently.
Layla’s pulse quickened. “Theodore? Anyone?”
Her voice cracked in the emptiness.
She snatched her phone from her pocket again, hands trembling. Dominic’s name lit up on the screen. She hit call. It rang once. Twice. Then silence.
“Please,” she whispered, pressing the phone against her ear. “Please pick up….”
The line stayed dead.
Something inside her began to unravel.
She backed toward the doorway, her eyes sweeping the abandoned room one more time.
A sound behind her made her flinch, the crunch of snow, faint but distinct.
Layla spun.
A shadow loomed through the fog at the edge of the clearing, tall and moving fast. She stumbled back, ready to run, but then the mist parted, and she saw his face.
“Julian,” she breathed.
He stopped just short of her, his hand reaching out instinctively to steady her by the arm. His gloves were cold against her skin.
“Easy,” he said quietly. “Easy there. What is it?”
“I-I couldn’t find anyone,” she gasped, “They’re gone, all of them. The Sawmill’s empty, nobody’s picking up my calls—”
“Slow down.” His tone was calm but tight, his eyes scanning the clearing. “Start from the beginning.”
Layla tried to speak, but her throat felt too dry.
She swallowed hard, the words tumbling out.
“They’re gone. I had a vision, I don’t know when, maybe a few hours ago, maybe longer.
There were wolves, Volkhov and Norden, fighting hybrids in the snow.
And an avalanche. It—it swallowed everything.
I think they’re in danger, Julian. I know they are. ”
Julian’s gaze snapped to her at that. The faintest flicker of color drained from his face. “You’re certain?”
“I saw it,” she whispered, “I felt it.”
Julian didn’t argue.
He turned his head slightly, scanning the tree line as though he expected to see movement there. His usual composure, the cool, measured control that made everyone in Skymist wary of him, had faltered. There was tension in the line of his shoulders now, an alertness that made her blood run cold.
Layla grabbed his sleeve. “Where are they?”
He hesitated a heartbeat too long. “Dominic led a team out before dawn. Theodore and the other Volkhov warriors, Arthur, and the rest of the Nordan. We found a trail near the mines at Voskresen. They went to track it.”
Layla’s blood ran cold. “Then they’re out there.”
“Yes,” Julian said, voice low. “And if your vision’s right—”
“They’re walking into a trap.”
He met her eyes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fog thickened around them, curling like breath through the trees.
Layla’s hands clenched at her sides. “We have to go after them.”
“Layla—”
“I’m serious.” Her voice cracked. “I need to warn them. Wait…why aren’t you with them?” He didn’t answer immediately, and she turned to him slowly, voice dropping low. “Why aren’t you with them, Julian?”
“Dominic commanded me to stay here,” Julian said, jaw tight, anger flinting in his eyes. “He didn’t want to leave the town utterly without protection from alphas.”
“You’re going to protect the whole town?” Layla said, unable to stop the note of derision in her voice.
She gave her a sharp look. There was something else beneath it. Something worn and open. A plea, almost.
“Oh,” she said, voice small, “he didn’t tell you to protect the town, did he?”
“No,” Julian said, “he did not.”
“He wanted you to…to protect me?”
She hated how tiny her voice was, how filled with stupid, childish hope.
“If Leonid got word in time that both packs have left Skymist, had left you unguarded…” Julian said, his voice trailing off.
“I can handle myself against Leonid,” Layla said, “I half grew up with him.”
“Trust me,” Julian said, his voice turning dark, “he’s not the same male he used to be. I’m not sure anything can bring him back from the brink.”
She took his arm then, tugging him towards the mountain trail, her expression pleading. “Julian, we need to go. Now.”
Julian seemed to be weighing up the options, eyes narrow as he looked between the mountain looming above them and her small, desperate frame.
“Fine,” he said, “fine. Dominic will likely kill me, but if your vision is right—”
“Then we’re already running out of time,” she said, releasing his arm and starting towards the mountain. “Come on!”
He growled, shifting smoothly into a wolf, dark paws thudding into the earth, claws scraping through the mud. He settled down, lowering his shoulders. Sucking in a breath, Layla grasped handfuls of fur and heaved herself up, scrambling to steady herself.
Julian huffed and stood, shaking out his head. Her stomach swooped as the ground fell away from her.
She knew how big the wolves were. She’d grown up around them. But still, it was always terrifying to be so close to one and not even be tall enough to reach its shoulder.
With a growl that she translated to mean something along the lines of hold on tight, Julian shot off into the trees, Skymist fading away behind them.