Page 73
DARIUS
The wrongness hits me before I even reach the safe house door—a coppery taste in the air that makes my blood run cold. The scent trails are all wrong, too old and faint.
I burst through the door, traps the last thing on my mind.
"Serenity!" The vacant rooms echo back my call, mocking me with their finality. I strain my ears but meet an absolute void of sound—a total absence of a heartbeat or the slightest movement. The lakehouse holds its breath around me.
My feral senses blast forward, my vision sharpening as I examine every corner. Her coffee mug sits cold on the kitchen counter, and her jacket hangs on the chair where she always drapes it. Everything looks perfectly normal except for the one detail that matters most.
She's gone.
"Rene!" I roar her name loud enough to rattle the windows, as if sheer volume could summon her back from wherever the hell she's disappeared to.
The front door slams open behind me. Lynn's watchers pour in—a shifter and a vampire, all looking like they've been caught with their pants down.
"Where is she?" A dangerous rumble ripples through my chest, chasing the vampire back a step.
"We don't know," the shifter stammers. "The wards showed her moving around the bedroom an hour ago, but—"
"But you never actually check on her. You relied on magic to babysit the most wanted witch in Chicago."
The vampire straightens, finding some backbone. "The illusion was perfect. Even we couldn't—"
I move faster than human sight allows, slamming him against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. "Your enhanced senses just got her captured by a death cult."
"Darius, killing our team won't bring her back." The shifter's voice maintains careful authority.
The rational part of my mind knows he's right. The wolf part wants to tear all their throats out anyway, because they were supposed to keep her safe while I was gone, and they failed, and now she's—
I let go of the vampire, who slides down the wall, looking distinctly pale. My panic throws itself against my control while howling for its mate.
"Get out. Both of you now."
They flee without argument, deserting me alone with the empty lakehouse and the hollow, aching void of failure. I've lost her. After everything—all the careful planning and the nights I held her while she fought off nightmares—I've lost her anyway.
My fist connects with the kitchen wall, punching clean through the drywall. The pain reins me in for exactly three seconds before the panic falls back, stronger than before.
That's when I catch it—a faint shimmer of magic clinging to the bedroom doorframe. This masterfully woven spell proves far more sophisticated than the illusion Lynn's people fell for. It smells like moonlight masking pure determination, where trust runs deep.
My racing thoughts stop pacing. I move toward the bedroom, each step careful, following a magical signature so subtle that only someone bonded to her could detect it. The scent leads me to the desk, where a folded piece of parchment waits atop her stack of books, right beside the protection amulet I gave her.
The letter unfolds in my hands, dark ink catching the late afternoon light.
You're going to be furious, and you have every right to be…
I read every word twice, my senses settling into predatory immobility as understanding dawns. She traded herself for Estella and every prisoner Malachai threatened to execute on camera. While she left no address, she wove a trail into the walls that only my wolf could follow, the soul-bond acting as a compass needle. She walked away of her own free will to act as bait, buying me time to rescue the hostages.
And she expected me to take the survivors and run.
The magical residue she left behind buzzes against my skin, leading from the window to the fire escape and forging a path meant specifically for me.
She's walking into hell, and I'm going with her.
I find Kellan exactly where I expect him—leaning against the SUV's hood outside the lakehouse, cigarette dangling from his lips like he's been waiting for this conversation all day.
"She's gone."
He takes a long drag, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Define gone. As in dead, or as in doing something spectacularly stupid?"
