Chapter 19 - Bryan
After two days without sleep, my body finally betrays me.
I don’t remember sitting down in the conference room chair. I don’t remember closing my eyes. One moment, I’m staring at the map spread across the table, working out possible routes to Cheslem safe houses for the hundredth time, and the next, I’m somewhere else entirely.
The nightmare drags me under before I realize I’ve fallen asleep.
I’m standing in front of my family’s house, the one I burned to the ground ten years ago.
It looks exactly the way I remember it—white siding, blue shutters, and my mother’s rosebushes climbing the porch railings.
Dawn breaks over the roofline, and a mockingbird sings from the oak tree in the front yard, the same oak tree where my father hung a tire swing when I was seven.
I don’t want to go inside. I know what’s waiting for me.
But my feet carry me forward anyway, up the porch steps that creak in all the familiar places and through the front door that swings open at my touch. The smell hits me first. Copper and smoke and death.
My father lies in the hallway with his throat ripped out.
His reading glasses are still perched on his nose, though they’re cracked and spattered with blood.
My mother is crumpled at the base of the stairs with her hand still reaching toward the second floor, where my sister’s bedroom was.
She died trying to protect her baby, and she never made it past the third step.
Mira is sprawled across her bedroom floor, barely fifteen years old, with her nightgown soaked in blood. Her eyes are open and staring at the ceiling, and there’s a look of surprise frozen on her face. She didn’t even have time to be afraid.
I’ve had this dream a thousand times. I know every detail by heart—the angle of my father’s arm, the way my mother’s hair spills across her face, and the single shoe Mira lost somewhere between her bed and the window.
I’ve memorized it all because my brain won’t let me forget, no matter how much I want to.
But something is different this time.
There’s a fourth body.
She’s lying near the fireplace with her copper hair fanned out around her head like a halo. Her eyes are open, and she’s staring at nothing. Her throat bears the same ragged wound as my father’s. Blood pools beneath her, soaking into the rug my mother spent two months weaving by hand.
Skylar.
I try to scream, but no sound comes out. I try to run to her, but my legs won’t move. All I can do is stand there and stare at her empty eyes while the house fills with smoke and the flames begin to climb the walls. The mockingbird outside keeps singing like nothing is wrong.
“Bryan.”
Someone is shaking my shoulder. I lunge upward with my fist already swinging before I’m fully awake, and Thomas catches my wrist an inch from his face.
“Easy.” He releases me and takes a step back with his hands raised. “You’re in the pack house. You fell asleep in the conference room.”
I scrub my hands over my face and will my heart to stop racing.
The conference room comes into focus around me—maps spread across the table, empty coffee cups clustered near the edge, and the whiteboard covered in Caleb’s scrawled notes about Cheslem safe houses.
Gray morning seeps through the windows, which means I slept through most of the night.
I clear my throat and ask, “Any news?”
“That’s why I woke you.” Thomas gestures toward the door. “Luna found something. She’s in Nic’s office with Caleb and the others.”
I’m on my feet before he finishes speaking.
Skylar has been gone for two days, and every hour that passes feels like a knife twisting in my gut.
I haven’t slept more than a handful of minutes at a time before now.
Haven’t eaten anything except the protein bars Connor keeps shoving into my hands and the coffee James forces on me every few hours.
I haven’t done anything except stare at maps, make phone calls, and try not to lose my mind while the people around me work to find her.
My Black Ops contacts came through six hours ago with satellite imagery of suspected Cheslem activity in the mountains northeast of Silvercreek.
One of my former teammates—a wolf named Dexter who still owes me for saving his life during a mission in Alaska—pulled strings to get me thermal imaging of an abandoned mining facility about forty miles from pack territory.
The images show vehicle movement and body heat signatures, the hallmarks of an occupied compound trying to look deserted.
It’s not confirmation, but it’s more than we had before.
Now I need Luna to tell me it’s the right place.
Nic’s office is crowded when I push through the door.
Luna is at the center of the room with her hands braced on the desk, and the dark circles under her eyes tell me she’s been pushing her magic hard.
Ruby hovers nearby with one hand resting on Luna’s arm like she’s ready to catch her if she falls.
Nic occupies his usual chair behind the desk while Caleb paces near the window.
Dylan and Connor flank the doorway, scowling.
Everyone turns to look at me when I enter.
“Tell me,” I prompt without preamble.
Luna straightens and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
“The mining facility your contacts identified. It’s the right place.
I couldn’t get a clear picture of the interior with Rafe’s wards blocking most of my scrying, but I felt her there.
Skylar’s alive, Bryan. Hurt and scared, but alive. ”
The relief that floods through my system is so intense that it nearly buckles my knees. I grab the back of the nearest chair to steady myself.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. They fitted her with a silver collar to block most of her wolf, which is probably why it took me so long to find her. But I was able to catch traces of her magical signature during a gap in Rafe’s wards. She’s in that facility, underground, in some kind of holding cell.”
“Then we go get her.”
“It’s not that simple,” Nic argues. “Caleb’s been analyzing the satellite imagery, and the compound is heavily fortified.
They have at least twenty wolves on patrol at any given time, plus whatever forces Rafe has stationed inside the buildings.
Guard towers at each corner, motion sensors along the perimeter fence, and only two access points that we can identify. A direct assault would be suicide.”
“I don’t care about—”
“I know you don’t.” Nic cuts me off with a raised hand. “But Skylar would. She’d want us to do this right, not throw our lives away on a rescue mission that’s doomed to fail before it starts.”
I open my mouth to tell him that every second we spend planning is another second Skylar spends in Rafe’s hands, another second she might be suffering while we sit here talking about guard rotations and access points.
But some small, rational part of my brain recognizes that he’s right.
Charging in without a plan won’t save her. It’ll just get us both killed.
So, I take a breath. “What do you suggest?”
“A two-pronged approach.” Nic rises from his chair and walks to the map pinned to the wall.
“The compound has two main access points—the front gate here, and a service entrance on the eastern side that looks like it was used for equipment deliveries back when the mine was operational. Caleb says the service entrance leads to the lower levels where they’re most likely holding prisoners. ”
Caleb stops pacing and joins Nic at the map.
“Matthias used this facility years ago, back before the corruption fully took hold. I was young, but I remember the layout. The cells are underground, accessible through a series of tunnels that branch off from the main complex. If we can get a small team inside through the service entrance, we can reach Skylar without fighting through the entire compound.”
“And the front gate?” I ask.
“Distraction.” Nic taps the map. “I’ll lead a group of our best fighters in a direct assault on the main entrance. Make enough noise to draw Rafe’s forces to the front while your team slips in through the back.”
It’s a solid plan. Risky, but solid. The kind of thing I would have designed myself back in my Black Ops days, when extracting hostages from fortified positions was just another Tuesday.
“How many on the strike team?”
“Four, including you.” Nic meets my eyes. “Any more than that and we risk detection. Any fewer and you won’t have enough firepower to fight your way out if something goes wrong.”
“I’m in.” Dylan declares. “Sera was Cheslem once. If there are other prisoners in that facility—other wolves who were taken the way Skylar was—she’d want me to help bring them home.”
Connor raises a hand. “Me too. Fern would never forgive me if I let you go alone, and frankly, neither would I. Skylar is pack. We don’t leave pack behind.”
Something constricts in my chest. These men barely know me. I’ve been back in Silvercreek for less than a month, and most of that time I’ve spent either arguing with Skylar or trying to convince her to give me another chance. But they’re willing to risk their lives to help me save her anyway.
This is what pack means. This is what I gave up when I left ten years ago.
“That’s three.” I look at Nic. “Who’s the fourth?”
“Caleb.” Nic gestures toward the younger wolf. “He knows the facility layout better than anyone. Without him, you’ll be navigating blind.”
Caleb nods. “I’ll get you to Skylar. After that, it’s up to you to get her out.”
“What about magical defenses?” Ruby speaks up from her position beside Luna. “Rafe clearly has wards around the compound if they blocked Luna’s scrying. He might have alarms set to detect shifters approaching, too.”
“I can mask them,” Luna supplies. “A concealment spell layered over the strike team. It won’t last long—maybe twenty minutes if I push it—but it should be enough to get them inside undetected.”
“That’s a lot of magic to channel on your own,” Ruby says with concern creasing her brow. “Let me help. I’ve been practicing the amplification techniques you taught me. If I anchor the spell while you cast it, we can make it stronger and longer-lasting.”
“That could work. We’ll need to start preparing the ritual now if we want to move tonight.”
“Tonight?” I look at Nic. “We’re going tonight?”
“Luna sensed that Skylar is alive, but she also sensed that she’s hurt,” Nic states. “We don’t have time to delay.”
I think about Skylar, in pain and alone, wondering if anyone is coming for her. I think about the dream I just had, where her body was lying on my family’s floor with her eyes staring at nothing.
“I need a minute with Nic,” I say. “Alone.”
The others file out without argument. Dylan grabs my shoulder as he passes, and Connor gives me a nod that says more than words could. When the door closes behind them, I turn to face the Alpha.
“If this goes wrong—”
“It won’t.”
“If it does. If Skylar dies in that compound, I won’t survive it. I need you to understand that, Nic. I’m not being dramatic or making threats. I’m telling you the truth. She’s the only thing I have left. The only thing that matters. If I lose her...”
I can’t finish the sentence. The words get stuck somewhere in my throat, tangled up with all the grief and fear and desperate hope I’ve been carrying since I found that parking lot empty two days ago.
“I know what she means to you,” he replies. “I know what it’s like to love someone so much that losing them would destroy you. Luna is that person for me. If our positions were reversed, I’d be standing exactly where you are, saying exactly the same things.”
“Then you understand why I have to be the one to bring her home.”
“I do. But you need to understand something too. Whatever happens tonight, whatever we find in that compound, it’s not your fault. Rafe made his choices. You don’t get to carry the weight of their decisions on top of your own.”
“I brought this danger to her door. If I had stayed away, if I had never come back to Silvercreek, Rafe would never have found her. She’d be safe right now instead of locked in some cell with a silver collar around her throat.”
“And she’d be alone. She’d be safe and alone and wondering for the rest of her life why the man she loved walked away without ever coming back. Is that really what you want for her?”
I don’t have an answer for that.
“Bring her home, Bryan. Bring her home, and let her decide what the future looks like. That’s all any of us can do.”
I nod once. There’s nothing left to say.
Tonight, I’m getting my mate back. Whatever it takes.