Chapter 15 - Caleb
The sound on the other end of the phone is a chaos I can barely interpret.
It’s just a rush of wind, and then the high-pitched sound of Alora screaming, followed by the snarl of a wolf I don’t recognize, and Dina’s voice, urgent but not afraid.
Not yet. That realization is what chills me the most; it means this is worse than fear, it sounds like she’s running.
I’m still standing in the locker room in the pack hall, surrounded by Nick, Thomas, and Bryan, all of us fresh off perimeter and high on adrenaline and instant coffee.
The world is too loud, the fluorescent lights too bright, and I hold my phone out in front of me as I switch it to speaker.
My wolf is on autopilot, immediately sensing the danger.
The others notice the change before I can even explain; the color has drained from my face, my hands are shaking, and my own heartbeat is deafening.
Nick’s eyes go flat, ice blue, and he steps in. “What’s happening?”
I can’t speak. I can only hold out the phone, let them hear a sliver of Dina’s world: the sound of her breathing, fast and ragged, the baby’s escalating wail, the crunch of gravel, and somewhere in the background, a voice that is male and threatening.
And then nothing but static and the hollow, echoing line of a call still open but no longer attached to her.
“Where is she?” Thomas asks, dropping his bag, voice all Beta command. Bryan’s already shouldering his jacket, reading the room.
I fumble with the phone, thumbs clumsy and useless until I get the tracker app open.
The dot is pulsing in the middle of town, not the edge, not the border where it would make sense for a threat to show up.
She’s at the riverside park. My brain can’t process it.
That part of town should be safe. There is a lack of cover, the nearness to the center, the fact that no one should ever be in danger there, especially not my daughter, not the woman I…
No. I don’t let myself even finish the thought.
“She’s at the park,” I say, and my voice is so strange I barely recognize it. “There’s…there’s more than one. At least three, maybe more. They’ve attacked right in the center of town.”
Bryan swears, the word a bare growl, and Nick is already on his own phone, voice clipped and lethal as he raises the pack-wide alarm.
Thirty seconds later, the whole building is a riot of movement.
I can’t think straight; my body wants to tear itself in half, half of me pulling toward the threat, the other half stuck in this room, immobilized by the knowledge that my child is out there, that Dina is out there, that the universe is about to take everything from me, and there is nothing I can do.
Thomas grabs my shoulder, hard enough to anchor me.
“You’re not driving,” he says, and for once, I’m grateful.
My hands are shaking so badly that I almost drop the phone.
He shoves me toward the hallway, which snaps me out of it, because if he doesn’t, I won’t make it out of the building.
I’m stumbling after him, barely present, as the four of us sprint through the back hall, out into the parking lot, where shifters are already spilling from the doors, some half-shifted, some still buttoning up jackets.
We don’t wait for backup. There isn’t time.
The drive is a blur with Thomas at the wheel, cursing every slow car and every red light.
I have the phone pressed to my ear, but the call is nothing but static.
My wolf is battering at my skin, wild with terror and rage, and every second that passes is a new, sharper pain.
Nick is barking orders, Bryan is already texting in the background with rally points, coverage, and instructions to sweep every alley and yard between the hall and the park.
I think about the last time I saw Alora, her little face, her hand wrapped around Dina’s fingers, and the thought that this could be the last memory I have of her is so obscene I nearly black out.
My hands clamp down on the headrest in front of me, knuckles white, and I bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, just to keep myself from screaming.
We hit the curb by the park and barely bother with doors; we’re out and running before the truck has stopped moving.
The air is sharp, the river angry and high from the melt.
I search for the sound that will tell me where to go, but there is nothing; no sound of a baby, no fight, no sign of life except for our boots on the trail.
Nick is already at the trailhead, scanning for tracks.
He’s in Alpha mode, all senses on high alert for his pack.
We follow the line of disturbance and find a drag mark, broken branches, and a patch of blood that puts my heart in my throat.
I drop to the ground, sniffing, tasting the air, but all I get is the faint smell of where they’ve been but clearly no longer are, and a hell of a lot of fear.
There’s nobody, no sign of Dina or Alora, just the chaos of the struggle and deep sets of footprints.
My wolf is frantic, spinning, howling. I can barely see straight. I want to shift, to rip apart every tree until I find them, but Nick grabs my shoulder, turns me to face him. “You need to keep your shit together,” he snaps, low and urgent. “She needs you to think, not panic.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know he’s right. Alora and Dina are out here, and if I lose my head. I lose time. It’s not like passing out, more like every second is being stretched out, and I can barely hear what’s going on around me.
I’m vaguely aware of Nick barking orders, of Thomas and Bryan fanning out to search, but I’m still on my knees in the mud, staring at the smear of blood nearby. I want to throw up. I want to tear out my own heart and offer it as ransom if it means Alora and Dina are okay.
Then I hear it, soft footsteps on the path behind me, too deliberate for a search party.
I whip around, half-shifted already, and come face-to-face with Luna, her aura bright and her eyes concerned.
She’s flanked by Skylar and Fern, who must have been with her when the call came in.
Luna’s magic is riding high and wild, her eyes already glowing with the effort of holding it all in.
“I’m here,” she says, voice pitched low and steady.
She looks at me, not with pity, but with the kind of directness that makes me feel naked.
“Nick called. He said the wolves are reacting to something.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, just walks the path, scanning for anything that might be magic.
Luna stops at the drag mark, kneels, and presses her palm into the dirt.
The air stirs, the pressure changes, and I feel my wolf pull back, her magic always reminding me of the pull of magic I endured at Cheslem, even if it comes from a different place.
For a second, nothing happens. Then Luna’s whole body goes rigid, and a shock of blue light flashes from her fingertips, tracing the path of the struggle all the way back to the riverbank.
“Cheslem,” she says, voice flat and final. “Dark magic, and a lot of it. They’re using blood as an anchor. This was a planned snatch.”
I want to scream, but all that comes out is a broken tone. “My fault.” It’s all that’s left in me, the only thought that makes sense. My history, my failures, my bloodline; this is the price, and now Dina and Alora are paying it.
Nick is at my side instantly, pushing down on my shoulder until I look at him.
There’s no anger in his eyes, just that same cold focus I remember from the day he took me in.
“We don’t have time for guilt,” he says.
“You’re here because you chose to be better.
You’re not Cheslem anymore. They did this, not you. ”
I want to believe him, but the words bounce off the armor I’ve built over the years. I look at Luna, desperate for a sign that she blames me, too, that I deserve the pain spiking through my chest.
She shakes her head, reading my mind. “If you think you’re the source of all evil, you’re wrong. Cheslem is. The old pack. The ones who never let go of the blood rites. You’re not that wolf, Caleb. The magic says so. We all say so.”
I want to believe her, but the only thing I can see is Dina’s face, picture her fighting, and Alora’s tiny hand in hers. I want to be anywhere but here, but Nick’s grip is absolute, grounding me.
He looks at Luna, and the world slows to a crawl. “The magic is obscuring their scents. Can you find them?” Nick asks, and the question hangs heavily.
Luna closes her eyes, pulling the storm inside her until her whole body trembles.
When she speaks, her voice is deeper, layered with something that isn’t quite human.
“Yes, I think so. They used a shadow spell to conceal themselves; that’s how they got so close to town, but it’s patchy. I can sense Dina and Alora.”
The last words cut through my panic. “They’re alive?”
Luna nods, but follows with a warning. “For now. They must want them alive, but this magic corrupts. We need to find them, fast.”
My vision blurs with rage and relief all at once. I try to pace, but Thomas braces me, steady as a tree. “We do this smart,” he says, voice pitched for my ears only. “You’re no good to her dead or gone wild.”
We regroup at the pack hall, but I am barely aware of the drive back. I’m aware only of the ache in my chest, the need to run, the need to hunt, the need to do something, anything, to get them back.
Inside, Connor and Dylan are already laying out the op board on the wall in the main hall; the old perimeter map, lines of colored string, a dry marker in Dylan’s fist as he circles the park and every logical route.
Fern is at the kitchen counter making coffee, hands steady, voice low as she takes roll calls from the relief teams.
Nick barks orders, his voice bristling with alpha dominance, and the room falls in line.
I keep waiting for someone to look at me with suspicion, to whisper about Cheslem, to say out loud what I know they all must be thinking: this happened to me because of me, because I brought the stink of the old pack into their midst, because I am a liability and always will be.
I feel braced for it, but no one says anything. Instead, Connor crosses the room and puts a hand on my shoulder, a real one, good and solid and reassuring.
“Hey,” he says, quiet but not soft. “You with us?”
I nod, or try, but my face isn’t working right. My vision keeps doubling, and I can’t get my lungs to fill normally.
Dylan looks up from the board and locks eyes with me. “We’re gonna get them back, man. No one’s giving up on your kid. You hear me?” He says it with the kind of certainty that makes me want to believe him.
I try to answer, but my throat is raw. Fern brings over a mug of coffee, sets it in front of me like she’s done it a thousand times, and just pats my back once. “Drink and breathe. You’re Silvercreek, and so is your family. We don’t lose our own.”
It’s so direct, so absolute, that it cuts through my panic.
I focus on the map, on the problem, and force myself to listen as Connor lays out the plan.
I let the combined weight of the pack reassurance settle around me, drawing on their strength, and for the first time, I really feel like this is home.
Or at least, it will be once Alora and Dina are back here where they belong.