The Absence
Rowan POV
Something is wrong.?
I feel it before I can name it – a pressure shift in the air, like the moment before a storm breaks.?
The fire crackles behind me, laughter rising and falling in uneven bursts, careless and loud.? It feels misplaced now, like noise bleeding into the wrong scene.? My attention keeps pulling east, toward the tree line where the light thins too quickly and the woods swallow sound.
I scan the clearing.
Tess is still there. Talking. Smiling. Oblivious.
Gabrielle isn’t.
I straighten slowly, letting my gaze travel the perimeter again, more deliberately this time.? I count heads without meaning to.? Groups blur and reform.? People pass with arms full of more firewood.?
No Gabrielle.
My jaw tightens.
She wouldn’t wander off alone. Not after the woods. Not after Connor.
Speaking of which – I can't see him either.
My gut twists, a warning flaring within, sharp and sure. Call it my beta instincts.
I step away from the fire pit, boots sinking into soft earth. The noise fades with every step, replaced by the hush of leaves and the faint crack of settling wood behind me.
“Rowan?” Tess calls, distracted. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer.
I don't have time – not for explanations. Not for the awareness prickling uncomfortably at the back of my mind that she's been edging closer to me all evening. That my attention has drifted more than once when it shouldn't have.
The forest swallows me whole within seconds.
The ground tells the story before anything else does.
Broken branches. Scuffed soil. A scatter of dropped wood – snapped and abandoned in haste. I crouch, fingers brushing the dirt.
Fresh.
My breathing slows instead of speeding up, as I feel a pulse of power ripple through the earth beneath my palm. Not wild, directed.
I follow it.
I move faster now, tracking signs most people would miss. Bent grass. A torn sleeve snagged on bark from someone who brushed past too quickly.
Blood.
My breath goes shallow.
“Gabrielle,” I call, low.
No answer.
The scream reaches me a second later.
Raw. Unmistakable.
Everything in me snaps into place.
I run.
The forest rushes past in dark blurs as I follow the sound, heart hammering, lungs burning.
I'm close to the border when her scent hits me – too close. The scent of fear lingers.
I briefly admire how she managed to get so close to Evergreen without triggering border patrol, when something ahead pulls my focus hard.
A body.
Limp. Crumpled against the forest floor.
Blood. Too much blood.
I surge forward without thinking – and then I see it.
A trap. Old. Rusted at the hinge. Not placed for her, just... here.
Metal jaws clamped tight around her ankle, teeth biting deep.
I let my wolf surface and tap into his raw strength to wrench the trap open. She cries out as the pressure releases. That's when the blood really starts to flow.
"Easy," I murmur, already reaching for her wrist. Her pulse is faint, but there.
My gaze drops to her arm.
A bruise is already forming – dark and distinct, shaped unmistakably like a hand.
That sets my teeth on edge.
Her skin is pallid, almost luminous against the dirt. Blood streaks down her leg, soaking into the leaves. She's losing consciousness fast.
"Stay with me," I say, more command than plea.
I tear the sleeve from my shirt and bind it tight around the wound, hands steady even as urgency claws at my ribs. It won't stop the bleeding, but it might slow it enough.
I don't hesitate after that.
I scoop her into my arms.
The forest shifts as I move, the land responding in subtle ways I don't fully understand. Branches parting, the air changing as I cross the boundary.
I don't stop.
I mind-link Dr Thorn as I run, keeping my focus locked forward.
Prepare the infirmary. Now.
His acknowledgment hums back instantly, sharp with alarm.
Before reason can intervene, I head for the pack-house.
"Hold on," I mutter, adjusting my grip as her head lolls against my chest. "We're almost there."
The chain at her throat catches the fading light.
My stomach tightens. I've seen artefacts like that before. Locked away. Guarded, not worn.
Whatever Connor thought he was doing – whatever he planned – this wasn’t it.
I push harder, boots pounding familiar ground as Evergreen rises ahead through the trees.
One thing is certain, the alpha won't miss what's crossed our border.