Chapter 15 - Damian
My heart squeezes inside my chest, and it takes everything out of me not to turn around and go back to Poppy, where I left her on the edge of the forest.
She begged me to leave.
No.
She commanded it. Demanded it in a way I have never heard her speak before. And while I wanted nothing more than to stay by her side, I knew I needed to give her space.
We both need space to think clearly when we’ve been searching for comfort in the wrong places, even if it didn’t feel wrong to be kissing her lips. I should be angry after what I just learned, about the truth she couldn’t tell me when she had ample opportunity to do so.
But what I need to do now is go and check what’s going on, what plans are being made to rescue my son.
That’s where my head needs to be. Not on Poppy, and certainly not on the anger that resurfaces when I enter the house and see Dorian belting out instructions to everyone there.
The wounds I carry are only the demons that remain haunting me, and my inability to move away from all the pain I’ve suffered. I’m stuck, and I hate myself for it. Daniel doesn’t need an incompetent, wounded man as his father.
He deserves me in my wholeness, as the alpha of the Valley Walker Pack.
His face flashes past me, and even though I’ve never met him, our worlds collided for a brief moment that morning, and that’s all I need to take a deep breath and strengthen my resolve.
“What is happening? Why aren’t we out there yet?” I ask Dorian sternly, and he doesn’t bat an eyelid at my appearance, as if it were expected.
“I’ve sent out a group of scouts to raid the area,” Dorian tells me. “Aoife is conducting a ritual in the meantime to trace Daniel’s whereabouts more accurately.”
I narrow my eyes. “How is she doing that?” I ask, and my brother points to the back door.
“She’s using traces of his DNA from the blanket.”
Flynn comes in from the same door. “But it’s better that you’re here now. Since you’re the child’s father, he can be tracked with yours or Poppy’s direct DNA sample.”
“Poppy isn’t taking this very well,” I admit, stepping forward. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what the witch needs.”
Flynn nods firmly, and I follow him out, only to see the leader of the nomadic witch coven and her fellowship gathering around a makeshift fire pit—a shallow hole dug up in the ground with splintered wood glowing red as it throws up orange and blue flames.
My heart sinks at the thought of witchcraft being used so openly in my brother’s pack. But if this is the only way to find my son, I am prepared for anything.
“Come,” Aoife says to me as she holds out a hand from where she’s kneeling on the ground.
A frown flits past my face before I walk over to her, hesitantly putting my hand out when she suddenly pulls out a knife from under her robe.
“Whoa! What the—” Dorian begins, but it’s Flynn who steps in and places a hand on his shoulder to stop him from coming forward.
“Sister Aoife knows what she’s doing. You can trust her. She’s not gonna hurt Damian.”
I hang on to Flynn’s words as the witch uses the knife to slice a thin line against my flesh, drawing blood.
It’s hardly enough to feel like anything, and I barely flinch when she turns my palm over.
Another witch is ready to collect the blood that drips from the flesh wound into a wooden bowl, and then passes it to Aoife.
“You can stay here for the rest of it, or you can leave if it makes you uncomfortable,” Aoife says, as if she can read my deepest, darkest thoughts, where I can hardly wrap my head around any of this.
Despite what I’ve been taught about witches my whole life, I decide to stay. For Daniel. For Poppy.
As the witches conduct their ritual, chanting strange words, twisting their fingers in odd ways as Aoife pours my blood into the fire, I just stand and watch with curiosity and wariness hanging heavily on my chest.
I can’t believe I’m doing this—relying on the witches for help when I should be—
I should be with Poppy.
And that’s when the mate bond goes from gentle humming to violent screeching in my mind as my inner wolf awakens with resolute force.
Spinning on my heel, I’m about to shove past anyone in my way when Aoife, the leader of the nomadic tribe who just inhaled the smoke from the fire, snaps her head around and calls my name.
I stop in my tracks, only to see her eyes swimming with thick, white clouds.
“The warehouse in Fayetteville,” she says, her voice thundering with the layers of too many echoes to belong to a single voice.
And everything in Dorian’s backyard turns deadly quiet.
Fayetteville…?
“That’s the warehouse where the rogues were operating…” Flynn says in shock as he turns to me.
“Before Jackson moved the operation to Wichita Falls,” Dorian says as gut-wrenching horror twists in my gut.
“Impossible…” I murmur as a shiver runs through me. “We took care of the rogues… “
Behind me, Aoife clears her throat, and when I turn to her, I see that her eyes have turned back to normal.
“Rogue wolves are not created organically, Alphas,” she says as two witches help her to her feet. “Magic is responsible for the creation of rogues. It is a gruesome process, and it results in werewolves becoming rabid, diseased-like beings.”
My heart thunders with panic.
“Poppy!”
Without wasting another second, I shift into wolf form, cracking the barriers of my human vessel to become the beast I was born to be, and race toward the forest where I’d left Poppy.
But she’s not there.
I lift my head and let out a thunderous howl toward the sky before turning to the alphas who’d followed me out here.
“Poppy is gone! She’s going toward Fayetteville!” I yell out through the mind link, anger surging through my veins, because this runs deeper than a simple witch threat.
If these dark witches are responsible for the rogues’ creation, it means that Jackson wasn’t working alone. Either way, Poppy is in trouble. And so is Daniel.
“The scouts—” Dorian begins, but I lower my snout and snarl at him, baring my teeth.
“To hell with your scouts, Dorian! I am going after her. I’m going to get my mate and my son back!”
I growl at my brother threateningly, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he looks at me through the dark, beady eyes of his wolf and nods his furry head.
“We will follow your lead, brother.”
Something in his voice blaring through the mind link tells me that he isn’t fearful, but proud of me for stepping up. Despite the danger, despite the obvious threat.
For all we know, we could be walking into a trap. But I won’t waste another second trying to protect myself when both my mate and my son are out there.
I spin on my hind legs and charge forward, every muscle in my body driven by one singular purpose.
Get to them.
The forest blurs around me as I sprint through the trees, my paws barely touching the ground before launching me forward again.
Branches whip against my fur, shrubs snap beneath my weight, and the pounding of my heart becomes the only sound I can hear over the wind rushing past my ears.
Every instinct I possess has narrowed to one point on the horizon, one scent lingering amongst the damp earth and dying vegetation.
Poppy.
The mate bond hums with frantic urgency now, pulling me farther, as though an invisible thread has hooked itself around my ribs and is dragging me toward her.
Every few hundred yards, I lift my muzzle just enough to catch her scent again, my stomach twisting when it becomes stronger, fresher, laced with the unmistakable scent of fear.
Behind me, I hear the thunder of paws as Dorian, Flynn, Connor, and a handful of Nightclaw warriors keep pace, but I don’t look back. I don’t slow down.
My son is out there.
My mate is out there.
And if I’m even a second too late… The thought alone threatens to rip me apart.
Every stride becomes another stab of guilt driven deep into my chest.
Ten years without my son.
Ten years in which Daniel learned to walk…learned to speak…celebrated birthdays…lost his first tooth…all without me.
Without his father.
A bitter growl tears from my throat as I push myself faster, my lungs burning beneath the effort.
I want to be angry with her, but I can’t. If I’d claimed Poppy that night… If I hadn’t hesitated… If I hadn’t allowed my father’s expectations to weigh so heavily on my shoulders…
None of this would have happened. Daniel wouldn’t have grown up believing he only had one parent. Poppy wouldn’t have spent a decade carrying everything alone. And they wouldn’t be running for their lives now.
Self-loathing settles heavily inside my chest, each realization cutting deeper than the last as I sprint ahead.
I failed them long before today.
I failed them the night Poppy walked away.
I hate myself for that single moment of weakness that could have changed everything. They would have been by my side, under my protection, if I didn’t let that pressure weigh me down.
The world around me slowly changes as the dense forest gives way to cracked roads swallowed by weeds and crumbling buildings left to rot beneath the weight of time.
The stale scent of dust hangs in the air, mixing with rust and old concrete as the outskirts of Fayetteville emerge from between the trees.
The abandoned town sits exactly as I remember it. Lifeless. Forgotten. Haunted by memories I wish had stayed buried. That sentiment will echo through the entire Rosethorn Alpha Council, who believed the threat was ended when we infiltrated Jackson’s operations.
My paws skid across the broken asphalt as I round the final bend, and the warehouse comes into view, my blood turning cold.
Every muscle in my body locks.
The enormous steel structure stands exactly where Jackson left it after the rogues fled and moved their operations, its rusted walls weathered by years of neglect, broken windows staring back at us like hollow eyes.
The heavy loading doors still hang crooked on their hinges, the faded markings barely visible beneath layers of dirt.
There’s no movement. No guards. No rogues or witches.