Chapter 27 Orion
Mud cakes my paws as I trot back through the woods, through the eastern forest. I passed Eli and Kellen out near the waterfall bank, but even in wolf form, I could tell they found nothing. No sign of the witches. Not a hint.
Across the valley, Grayson’s silhouette appears on the ridge, shoulders tense. I pick up the pace and shift back to human form as I reach him.
“Anything?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
A slight shake of his head before he turns and stalks back toward our cabin, another mile away through the brush. The strain is weighing on everyone. The enforcers are taking it personally each time they go hunting past Ghost’s ward and return empty-handed.
The house is quiet when we get back. Upstairs, I stand under the shower spray just long enough to wash the mud away, then towel off and pull on whatever clothes my hands find first, my mind somewhere else.
My wolf paces restlessly inside me, yearning for Mona.
The house feels hollow without her, but she’s barely here these days—at the gym with Andrea or training who-knows-where.
When Gray, Silas and I aren’t handling enforcer business, we’re with Kendrick, reaching out to alphas across every clan.
It’s slow work. Most old-school wolves still avoid human technology, forcing us to wait for someone to get in touch with them.
All this to find the missing wolves, the ones Mona sees every night in her dreams.
God, if I could take that burden from her, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
When she’s home, her anxiety is so high, she can barely sit still. She paces from room to room like a caged animal, grilling us on what we might’ve learned, desperate for a scrap of information.
Every single night, she sees the missing wolves. Some happily living their lives, having no idea what’s coming for them. Then there are the others. The ones already captured, chained in some underground hellhole. Mona needs sleep, but the sleep is what’s hurting her.
The skin beneath her eyes drags like darkened storm clouds.
She’s exhausted, but refuses to do anything to stop the dreams. Silas tried to convince Ghost to make her a potion of some kind—something, anything to help her get rest without the visions.
Mona found out and wouldn’t speak to Silas for an entire day.
His heart fucking shattered, so he backpedaled, but the damage was done.
The rejection hit him hard. It was like picking at an old wound, turning it back into a scab.
Still, he trails her like a pup, desperate for any scrap of attention, but she’s so trapped inside her head, the weight of carrying his pain is just too much to bear.
So, we do what we can to help her. It isn’t enough.
She’s hurting, and she’s supposed to turn to us, her mates, for help, but refuses.
Grayson stands at the stove when I enter the kitchen, stirring something that smells like garlic and herbs, enough food for four.
Silas should be right along. The front door creaks open just as Mona crosses my mind, and the air fills with jasmine.
It’s tinged with bitterness, but that’s nothing new.
She inhales sharply, catching herself before slamming the door shut.
I hang back, counting her steps. Grayson sets a glass on the table, gripping so tight it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter.
His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as she storms past us.
I trail her up the stairs. She drops onto the bed, yanks at one sock, then the other.
The fabric catches on her heel, and she tugs harder, her breath coming out in short bursts with frustration.
I kneel and take her foot in my hands. The sock slides free, and I pull off the rest of her clothes, reverently, trying to mask my relief that she lets me.
Without pushing for more, I head to the bathroom, and she follows.
Steam rises as I crank the water hotter.
“Anything?” she asks flatly as she stands naked beside the tub. It’s the same question I asked Grayson less than an hour ago, and I wish my answer were different. I shake my head.
She nods in understanding, looking down at the ground. “But you talked to Ingrid’s Lune, right? They said her alpha was missing, too? Surely someone saw something?”
Thanks to Mona, our search for the strawberry-scented girl gave us a head start. Andrea’s mate, Ingrid, belongs to a clan north of Flagstaff. The news should have brought joy—Andrea discovering she had not just a mate but an entire pack, since Ingrid shared bonds with two other wolves, Sam and Cal.
Both Ingrid and Sam, her alpha, have been kidnapped.
At least they are together. That’s what Andrea said coldly, showing no emotion, when we told her what we learned. Then she turned, spine straight, and marched out of the office. Mona chased after her, and they’ve been nearly inseparable ever since.
I turn the shower dial back down, then hold Mona’s hand as she climbs in.
She keeps the curtain drawn, and I lean against the counter as she cleans herself, letting the falling water mask her pain.
When she’s finished, I have a towel ready and waiting, and wrap her up in it, one for her hair, one for her body.
“How do you always know what I need?” she mumbles when we’re back in her room.
I shrug.
“You think I can’t handle it. The dreams.”
I reach out and brush my knuckles against hers. Then my fingers wrap around her delicate wrist. “Explain to me how you’re handling it.”
She growls and yanks her hand away. So, I do what I’m good at: I practice patience.
I wait. She dresses in tiny sleep shorts and a tank top that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, her pert nipples poking against the fabric.
She eyes me in challenge, but I don’t give in.
Hopefully, her other mates don’t give into her wily machinations either.
She’s pretty good at distracting us with sex.
All she has to do is bite her bottom lip and my dick gets hard.
But there are more important things right now, and since she can’t tell me she’s handling the dreams well—because she isn’t—I don’t want to let her use sex to pretend she’s okay.
I want her to talk to me. She’s falling apart, and I’m watching it happen, and it fucking aches.
And on top of all that, the shifters are under attack, and we have no idea where to even begin getting our brethren back.
We make our way to the kitchen. Grayson holds a jar of honey in one hand, a loaf of bread in the other. She steals both from him and takes a seat at the table. Grayson’s low laugh mingles with my own as he divvies out dinner onto the plates.
“Where’s Silas?” I ask, watching as she pours honey onto a small plate, then rips into the bread. I expected him to be back by now.
She points down the hall with her honey spoon. “The stalkers are outside.”
“Stalkers?”
“Ghost arrived just as I got back. He and Silas are having a private meeting,” she scoffs, the idea of them talking without her clearly a source of annoyance.
“Want me to get rid of him?” Grayson asks her. “Say the word, love. I’ll have the birds eating his decomposing body by morning.”
“Isn’t that cannibalism?” Mona muses.
Grayson mutters under his breath about how much he doesn’t care as he digs into his dinner.
“Mona, you called him a stalker. Has he been bothering you? Following you?” I ask.
Grayson adds, “I can make him leave, if you want. Just saying.”
She looks at us with so much earnestness. Her bright blue eyes are the clearest they've been in days, so much brewing behind them. But she shakes her head no and stuffs a piece of honey-soaked bread into her mouth.
“So… are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Grayson asks between bites, trying and failing at nonchalance. Mona refuses to talk to us, to share her burdens, but that doesn’t mean we stop trying.
She chews slowly. On purpose, because she usually swallows her food practically whole, like a starving wolf. She’s stalling, but eventually admits, “I can’t get her out of my head. She’s everywhere. Like a song on the radio. There, constantly.”
“Ingrid? Andrea’s mate?”
She nods, then shakes her head. “It’s… all of them.” Her scent wavers, almost like her omega is reaching out for us, begging for help.
“You can talk to us, Mona. Don’t carry this alone.”
She sucks in sharp, ragged breaths. “It’s just… I told you things are getting clearer. The visions, I mean.”
We both nod. Ever since Ghost taught Mona how to deepen the visions, it’s like a fucking valve opened, and it’s stuck in the on position. I want to kill the fucker for that alone, but he’s also the only one who might actually be able to help her.
“Last night, the witches started a new ritual. What they did with Lily and Silas. They lock an alpha and delta into a room together. I fell out of the vision when the chanting started, but I know what’s coming.
I-I—” she hiccups, suddenly overwhelmed by it all.
Grayson pulls away from the table so abruptly, I’m sure the legs leave scratches in the floor.
She’s wrapped in his arms moments later, and I’m cradling her hands, thumbing her wrists.
Gray and I both purr, and the rumbling vibration helps her calm enough to breathe normally.
“I didn’t tell Andrea. I couldn’t. I didn’t see Ingrid and Sam yet, but… it doesn’t matter. It’ll be them soon. I don’t understand why she’s doing this. There’s just so many of them. What if Deidre gets what she wants? Grayson, what’s going to happen to these girls?”
Gray’s eyes meet mine, but he wraps his arms around Mona and holds her while she sobs into his arms.
Silas comes in a minute later. Surprisingly, Ghost is with him.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Grayson hisses, lashing out for no reason, because that’s what we’re reduced to.
Silas doesn’t take the bait. My eyes flick to Ghost. He’s watching Mona with an unreadable expression on his face.
Why is he here right now? To give her more lessons, to make her more vulnerable to all this chaos?
There’s nothing she can do to save these people, but she’s being forced to watch their horrors unfold.
Grayson tucks the crown of her head beneath his chin. “I’m taking her to bed,” he snarls, then lifts his tiny mate in his giant arms and carries her up the stairs.
Silas takes Gray’s seat. Ghost hangs back, hovering, watching Mona disappear.
There’s something going on between them, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that he’s disrupting her sleep, her mental health.
I stalk toward him, my voice dropping to a whisper. “What did you do?” My fingers curl into claws at my sides. “What have you done to my mate!”
He drags his attention from her retreating form to me. “What do you mean?”
My alpha growls, and I point toward Mona. “You did something. You spent the day with her, helping her with her magic. You broke the dam. Whatever you did, she’s completely overwhelmed. It’s all rushing at her. She can’t control it.”
To my surprise, he nods and doesn’t deny it. “I know. I… I need to work with her some more. I’ve been working with another witch to learn more about Seeker magic—”
“You brought another fucking witch into this?” I slam my fist against the wall.
He doesn’t flinch. “Yes. One I trust with my life.”
That doesn’t make me feel better. I know Kendrick trusts him, but still… “And? What did this witch have to say?”
“We discussed how to help Mona explore her powers. She suppressed everything for so long, she has no idea how to control it. I’ll need to…” his voice trails off. And for the first time since I met the mysterious man, he seems uncomfortable.
Silas prompts him, “You’ll need to what?”
He winces. “I need to spend more time with her.”
I don’t like that idea. And when I turn to Mona’s other mate, I expect him to feel the same. But Silas has an odd grin on his face. He likes the idea of them spending time with each other.
“What am I missing here?” I ask, walking back to the table.
“Nothing—”
“She hasn’t told them because she’s scared of what they’ll do. But they deserve to know,” Silas says cryptically, to Ghost.
Ghost snarls, flashing his sharp teeth at Silas. In a silent standoff, a conversation passes between them. Silas knows something I don’t. Ghost fidgets, then takes a step back toward the door. His fingers curl around the frame, scratching at the already worn wood.
He doesn’t look at me, but he has my attention.
In fact, I can’t look away. He gives Silas one more pleading look, and then his shield drops slowly.
The missing scent I knew he cloaked with magic begins to filter into the air around us.
The shield lowers completely, and I can finally scent his shifter.
And something else, too. Something earthy, a little briny.
Like the salt in the ocean, cold stone floor. Something ancient.
Holy fucking shit.
Grayson’s footsteps thunder down the stairs.
“I put Mona to bed. She passed out, I think she’s—” his voice cuts off the moment he enters the kitchen, behind Ghost. He eyes him suspiciously, walking slowly around him, then taking steps backward.
“What is this?” he rasps. “What fucking magic is this?”
Silas says, “Mona hasn’t told you because Ghost refuses the bond. He doesn’t plan to stay. I think she’s afraid you two will force him to, and staying won’t be his choice. And honestly, I think she’s a little embarrassed that he doesn’t want her.”
“How can he not—” Grayson howls, but Ghost cuts him off.
“It is not that I don’t want her! Do you think I would not give anything to have her! To be with her, to live this normal fucking life with you four!”
His declaration lands like a bomb. The quiet settling in the aftermath, the four of us—pack brothers, all of us—take each other in. Ghost swears under his breath, says something in Spanish, then spins and disappears, his scent along with it.
My heart is racing, almost throbbing, like I can feel each pulse in my brain as I try to process—
“What the fuck just happened?” Grayson demands.
I can’t believe this. All this time, he knew he was our pack brother, our mate’s final bond, and he hid himself from us?
I’m—I don’t know what I am. I think I’m fucking pissed. But I’m too confused and shocked to process.
Silas sighs and kicks the chair at the table out with his foot. “Sit. And I’ll tell you what really happened in Canada.”