Chapter Thirty One
"Rogue interference has escalated," Alpha de Silva said, calm and placating as he addressed the Council. "But whatever the case, we need to follow protocol here and go through the correct diplomatic channels. We must be rational. We can't let emotion drive us to retaliation."
Emotion.
He called it emotion. As if what I felt could be softened into something palatable.
He stood in front of the Council, addressed the room with well practiced gestures and a ridiculous notion of peace.
Protocol. Process. He wanted to be rational while Talia was out there, beaten or dead.
My nails dug into the wood, splinters biting skin. My breath came in soft puffs, frost prickling at the base of my neck.
"This isn't just interference." My voice was cold and callous as I cut across de Silva and drew the room's eyes to me.
They could stare and whisper all they wanted. I wasn't going to roll over or bend my neck to them. Not anymore.
"Talia was taken. One of my wolves was taken from this territory, from the protection of Alpha Varyn," I continued with my eyes boring holes into de Silva's smug face. "They left a note. They wanted us to know. How can you stand there and pretend this is not a targeted, direct threat?"
My voice scraped like a blade over ice.
"She's not a footnote in your report. She's not a line item in your protocol. She's mine."
I had been disrespected, dismissed, threatened, treated like a criminal and collared like one.
I had born every one for the safety of my people but this Council wouldn't help keep my people safe.
They had proven that. Any threat of war would be debated for so long that I wouldn't see conflict in my lifetime.
Maybe peace was never earned through patience. Maybe it came from reminding them what the North could do.
"We're political representatives, not vigilantes," another Alpha added.
I could almost feel my wolf in my eyes, the glow of the icy blue as the frost bit at my spine.
"Would you be saying the same if it was one of your wolves?"
There was a hushed roll of mumbles throughout the room.
Alpha de Silva raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowed just enough to fracture the facade of rational and caring. "Perhaps if you had followed orders in the first place, we wouldn't be in this position."
The dismissal in his tone had the frost spreading to the arms of my chair.
"Perhaps if you were half as effective as you claimed to be, I wouldn't have needed to."
I rose from my seat and the wolves around me recoiled as the temperature dropped. I couldn't sit there any longer and listen to them debate. Their voices followed, comments of the meeting not being over and the irrationality of emotions.
If they wouldn't save Talia, I would. Protocol be damned.
I packed light and rushed, just enough to last a couple of days. I had no idea how long it would take, whether I would even be able to track the faint traces of Talia's scent through the masking oils the rogues used.
It didn't matter. I would search as long as I needed.
The house was dark and hushed as I slipped down the stairs and out the back door. An entrance to the tunnels was only fifty or so feet away. I could disappear through the borders with the patrols none the wiser.
"I'm disappointed I didn't get an invitation."
Lucien was leaning against the wall, knife flipping through his fingers and around his hand. It was the most informal I had ever seen him in a black, long-sleeved t-shirt and combat boots. It wasn't style or luxury, just stealth and efficiency.
"You were coming either way," I answered, walking past him as he flashed me a grin, sharp and predatory.
"I'd barely begun to melt my two favourite northern wolves. I couldn't let you leave so soon," he said with a shrug.
I tried to smile at him, show him some kind of gratitude when I truly appreciated him putting himself on the line, but it didn't land. The small grimace felt forced and awkward.
The entrance was hidden beneath trees and brush, a discrete metal door in the ground that wouldn't be noticeable unless you knew exactly where to look. Thankfully, Lucien did.
But so did others.
My body tensed, the shift rolling under my skin like a threat.
"I'm not here to stop you." My stomach turned at the voice and Dax stepped into the shadowy light with his hands raised.
I eyed him warily, waiting for him to continue, for guards to flood the forest and drag up back in front of the Council in chains.
"I'll cover for you with them as long as I can," he said, hands sliding into his pockets in a way that seemed sincere and almost nervous. "Just...be safe."
There was something in his voice, something breaking, like if he said more, it might undo both of us.
The air felt charged as his chocolate eyes locked on mine. The heat tugged at my heart, urged me forward to him like a moth to a flame. It was the softness, the veiled tenderness. He didn't try to ground me or question me. He just trusted.
I wanted to go to him, to hold him, to ask him to come too.
But that wasn't what Talia needed.
So instead, I nodded, the understanding burning between us before Lucien and I disappeared down the tunnel.
The trails looped and scattered - doubling back, vanishing, reappearing just far enough to make me doubt. Lucien moved like smoke, eyes sharp, nose twitching for the scent of blood while I searched for a hint of Talia through the confusing tangle of smells.
Day turned to night and back again. We didn't stop.
Lucien tried to keep things light, teasing me about rolling in dirt so often to try and dim the bright white of my wolf's fur, taking full advantage of my limited ability to answer back.
But as the hours passed and the trails led nowhere, the jokes dried up.
Until Lucien caught blood.
"We're close," he said, voice barely audible. "There's blood, it's old and they've covered it. But it's there."
My wolf rose in my throat, teeth bared, fury vibrating through my bones. She was close. I could feel it like instinct.
The trees were too quiet. The wind too still. We crept through the underbrush until a cabin came into view.
It was old, weathered with age and rot. The wood looked like it would give up at any moment. The sour, putrid stench of rogues was too strong to be masked with tricks.
Two rogues were stationed out front, prowling as wolves, their dishwater coats matted and patchy.
Lucien's hand skimmed my fur, barely a touch, but echoing. Then he vanished.
He was a blur, silent as death as he crashed into the wolf with deadly precision and they collapsed with a gurgle.
With the other distracted, I leapt forward. Teeth bared and claws unsheathed in ice and rage.
We didn't speak as I shifted back. We moved past the bodies and into the rickety cabin.
It was grimy and littered with discarded wrappers and a layer of thick, blackened dust. The sweep was methodical, each room empty.
The creak echoed through the thin walls and we ducked behind the door frame as two lanky men walked out from a cellar door in the floorboards.
She was there. She had to be.
The temperature dropped as an icy chill washed over me, spreading in frosty tendrils. I stepped out from behind the door, rage surging through me in an avalanche. The ice surged towards them, climbing up their feet.
They tried to pull away but there was no use.
The knife flew from behind my head, whizzing past my ear and embedding into a taller one's neck. Lucien was on the other before I could move, blade slicing across their throat.
The door groaned. My boots creaked against the wood. Each step down was a slow scream.
Dank mould filled the air, stale mildew mingled with the burning scent of silver. But beneath it all was fresh, sharp copper and it froze something inside me.
Blood.
Then I saw her.
For a second, I couldn't move. My body registered her before my mind did, every heartbeat screaming at me that I was too late.
Talia was crumpled in the corner, curled into a ball and chained at the wrists. Her skin was too pale, lips cracked and bloody. One eye was swollen shut. But breathing.
She was breathing.
I dropped to my knees beside her, fingers fumbling at the shackles. The metal burned against my skin as I ripped at the chains but it didn't matter. None of it matters.
She was alive.
"Hey," I whispered. "I'm here. I've got you."
She didn't answer, just made a sound, a tiny noise of recognition and leaned into me like she didn't have the strength to hold herself up.
I held her. Clung like the world was crumbling around us, face pressed into her hair and breaking ragged.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should have been here sooner. I'm sorry."
I didn't care about the cold spiraling from my skin, how the wetness dampened my cheeks, or how my voice cracked. I just held her.
"I've got you. You're okay. You're safe now."
I would've torn down the house, the Council, the gods themselves if it meant keeping her safe. But all I could do was hold her.
She looked so fragile as Lucien carried her, floating in and out of consciousness.
I looked back once, just once, at the building we left behind, half expecting it to vanish like a nightmare.
But it stayed. As real and ugly as the world that let it happen.
She was alive, but something in me had died in that cellar. Some fragile belief that justice ever came without blood.
Every time she screamed, we stopped. Spoke gently. Swore she was safe. It never helped.
The cycles of silent tears, broken sleep and shattered screams continued as we finally made our way back to Eclipse Hollow lands and the heavy weight of the reality returned.
But Talia was alive.
For now, that was enough.
Oh I just want to give Talia a hug!
Do you think Kiera will be able to hold it together... or is this the beginning of something darker?
Was Dax right to let Kiera go or should he have gone with her?
Only 9 chapters left to go??