Chapter 19
Rob
After spending the night wrapped around Hadley, I wake up feeling—completely off kilter.
Sated? Yes.
But also restless.
Like something is wrong.
Then, I sense it.
My arm is still curled where she should be.
My body remembers her—soft, warm, tucked against me like she belonged there.
But the bed?
It’s cold.
Empty.
My eyes snap open.
Because that’s not right.
That’s not right.
“Hadley?”
My voice is rough with sleep—and something else.
Something sharper.
No answer.
I sit up fast, scanning the room.
The bathroom door is wide open.
No light.
No sound.
The house is too quiet.
Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
She’s gone.
And that little string I have tied to my self-control—it shreds.
My Tiger explodes.
He doesn’t rise.
He just rips free.
A roar tears out of me before I can stop it, claws shredding through the sheets as I surge out of bed, heart pounding, blood roaring in my ears.
Mine is gone.
I snarl, already moving, already searching.
No, no, no!
The scent is there.
Faint.
Fading.
Hadley.
It’s cookie dough, sugar, and sex—and something else.
Something soft and warm that’s already slipping through my fingers.
She left.
She walked away.
Without a word.
Without a whisper.
My chest tightens, something primal snapping tight inside me.
No! My unclaimed mate left me.
The words echo like a shotgun blast.
Like a warning that sounded too late.
Like a threat.
My Tiger paces inside my house, frantic now.
Find her.
My human side tries to regain control, but it’s not working.
I’m falling to my beast. Words are blurring into growls and sounds, and I’m aware of what I’m doing beyond the need to move.
To hunt.
I tear through the house, every room, every corner—like she might somehow still be here.
She’s not.
By the time I hit the front porch, I’m still shifted, and it’s broad fucking daylight.
Which is a huge problem.
I try to get back into my human skin.
It’s painful. And it doesn’t work.
At best, I’m half in, half out.
Too much power under my skin.
Too much need.
Fuck it.
I let the Tiger take me.
It’s not a clean shift.
Not controlled.
Not the kind we train for.
It’s violent.
Bone and muscle ripple under my skin, senses exploding outward all at once like someone ripped the world open and shoved too much of it inside my head.
The first thing that hits is scent.
God—everything has a scent.
The road, baked warm from the sun. Oil and dust, and rubber.
The Pride—layers of it—Tiger, Bear, Other, all tangled together in a web of familiarity and territory.
Fear.
Sharp. Metallic. Immediate.
They smell me before they see me.
And over all of it?
Faint.
Fading.
Is her.
Hadley.
Vanilla. Sugar. Soft heat. Something uniquely her that my Tiger locks onto like a target.
Mine.
The absence of it?
It’s wrong.
It’s like breathing with half a lung.
Like something vital has been ripped out and my body doesn’t know how to function without it.
My vision sharpens next.
Colors dull—but edges?
Edges are razor sharp.
Movement stands out.
Heartbeat rhythms echo in my ears—too fast, too loud—mine, theirs, everything overlapping until it’s almost too much.
I don’t think.
I don’t plan.
I hunt.
My body surges forward, claws digging into asphalt, muscles coiling and releasing with brutal efficiency as I take off down the road.
Fast.
Faster than anything human.
Wind tears past me, carrying scents, information, direction.
Find her.
Get her back.
Protect.
Claim.
The instincts stack on top of each other until they blur into one singular, undeniable drive.
Maverick Point isn’t ready for this.
Hell—I’m not ready for this.
But none of that matters.
Because all I can feel?
All I can hear?
Is the absence of her.
The missing piece.
The wrongness clawing at my insides.
People scatter when they see me.
I barely register them.
They’re Pride.
They know better.
They smell what I am right now.
Unstable.
Unclaimed.
On the edge.
Voices call out.
Distant.
Irrelevant.
Until one rises above the rest.
“Rob Cray, stop!”
That one cuts through.
Deep.
Authoritative.
Commanding.
The Neta.
I skid to a halt at the edge of town, claws carving into the ground as I fight the momentum, chest heaving, breath coming in harsh bursts.
My vision flickers red at the edges.
Hunter Maverick stands in front of me, solid and unmoving, his presence like a wall.
Behind him—Elissa.
Calm.
Watchful.
The Nari.
And behind them—
The Honor Guard.
Spread out.
Careful.
Ready.
Reg is there too.
Of course, he is.
My brother looks like he wants to throttle me and hug me at the same time.
“Bro? What the hell are you doing?” he demands.
I bare my teeth.
A snarl rips out of me, low and dangerous, my body dropping instinctively into a forward stance.
Not defensive.
Offensive.
No explanation needed.
He knows.
They all do.
“I think he’s looking for his mate,” Elissa says softly, her voice carrying despite the chaos in my head.
Hunter’s gaze narrows.
And I feel it.
The weight of him.
The Neta—our version of Alpha.
The strongest Tiger in the Pride.
The only one who could put me down if this goes sideways.
I don’t want that.
I don’t want to challenge him.
This isn’t about dominance.
This is—I try to form the words.
Try to force them past the instinct choking my throat.
But my Tiger doesn’t do words.
He does need.
He does drive.
So instead—I growl.
Low.
Pained.
Frustrated.
A whine slips in before I can stop it, the sound torn out of me as I pace, claws flexing, tearing at the ground.
She’s gone.
Find her.
Fix it.
One of the guards shifts nervously.
“Neta—what do we do? Normals could come down this street any minute—”
I roar.
The sound rips out of me, raw and uncontrolled, echoing down the street as my frustration spikes.
Hunter doesn’t flinch.
His gaze sharpens.
“Did he not claim his mate?” he asks evenly. “Or did she reject him?”
I freeze.
Everything—stops.
Because that thought?
That possibility?
It hadn’t even crossed my mind.
And now—now it slams into me like a physical blow.
Rejected.
My Tiger recoils—and then explodes.
A roar tears out of me, louder this time, pain threading through it, sharp and unbearable.
Because no.
No.
That’s not it.
She wouldn’t!
Would she?
But gone is gone.
And now?
Now there’s something worse than absence.
Doubt.
And it tears me open.
My mind blanks.
Just for a second.
And in that second, there’s nothing but emptiness.
A void.
Like I’m standing on the edge of something vast and endless, and without her—I know I’m going over.
Voices filter back in slowly.
Distorted.
Distant.
I register movement.
The Guard closing in.
Careful.
Measured.
I snap back with a snarl, warning them off, my Tiger refusing to go down without a fight.
I don’t want to hurt them.
But I will.
That’s the nature of the beast.
“He didn’t say anything, Neta,” Reg says, stepping forward just enough to be heard. “I—I don’t know.”
Hunter moves closer.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Hands up.
Like he’s approaching a wild animal.
Which—yeah. Fair.
“Rob,” he says, voice calm but firm. “You’re scaring the hell out of everyone and endangering the Pride.”
I pace.
Back and forth.
Claws digging in.
Heart pounding.
She’s gone, I manage to transmit the words through our Pride bonds. Rough as they are, barely human.
“I know,” he says.
No—you don’t, I reply, another growl slipping in.
She’s gone.
My Tiger surges again, desperate to break free, to run, to hunt.
Hunter’s gaze hardens.
“I need to take you in, son.”
The word son hits.
Grounds.
Just enough.
Because beneath the instinct?
Beneath the chaos?
There’s still a part of me that knows.
If I lose control here?
I don’t just risk myself.
I risk her.
And that?
That I can’t allow.
Not even like this.
Not even with everything in me screaming to tear the world apart until I find her.
My Tiger chuffs, and the Neta dips his chin.
“Alright, let’s get him back to the Pride House.”