Kaelith stood utterly still, the shock of Lucien's memory rendering him silent. He could barely believe his mate had pulled off such a bold move. In the face of danger, she still managed a strategy to protect his men. He felt a wave of pride spreading in his chest.
"Alpha, I still can't get over the courage Luna showed. I've never seen someone so contained under pressure." Lucien said, his voice filled with awe and deep respect. "She was in a terrible situation, and yet she somehow managed to negotiate with those rogues to make sure we were safe. She even made them sign a blood contract to guarantee it. And all at the cost of her own freedom."
Kaelith could hear the genuine admiration in Lucien's tone, and it made his own chest swell with emotion. His mate—his brilliant, fearless, utterly unpredictable mate. The memory of her expression—calm, resolute, utterly in control—left him completely awed. She never failed to leave him mesmerized.
He felt a rush of heat rushing through his body, stirring a primal, possessive desire within him. The thought of how she'd commanded that bitch witch, whom he'll surely tear apart limb from limb into compliance, and secured the safety of his men made him hard. Damn, how had she even known about it? Not many knew that detail about witches. Blood oaths were sacred, deeply guarded witch knowledge—not something a human should know.
Our mate was always meant to be a Luna, his wolf growled, its voice thick with pride and longing. Our true Luna. I want her. Now. His wolf was nearly crazy with the need to find her, to claim her, to protect her. Find her. She trusted us that we'll come for her.
He felt a warmth as the realization hit him. Despite all the times Isla had pushed him away or shut him out… she had trusted him. Trusted that he would come for her. And she was right. He would tear the world apart to find her—without a single fucking doubt.
"Alpha," Lucien said, bowing his head deeply.
"I'll lay my life down for our Luna. She didn't care about herself and put our lives first. I am ashamed that I failed to protect her, but I won't hesitate laying down my life for our her. She has my absolute respect and loyalty." When he looked back up, Kaelith saw it clearly—raw dedication, deep respect, and total loyalty. But it wasn't for him. It was for Isla. His mate had earned that loyalty not by being his mate, but through her own fearless actions.
Kaelith placed a hand on Lucien's shoulder, his grip firm. "You didn't fail, Lucien. You followed your Luna's direct order. And because of that, she gave us the key to finding her." The blood contract wasn't just a negotiation—it was a trail. Magic and blood left traces, and a blood oath could be tracked. He still couldn't figure out how Isla knew this detail, but it was nothing short of brilliant.
He turned to Xavier, who was already buzzing with anticipation. "Xavier. Prepare the warriors. We are going to find my mate."
"Yes, Alpha! They're prepared, waiting for your order."
"Good." Kaelith's eyes glowed with a faint golden light. "Whoever took her," he vowed, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "won't fucking be able to even regret the mistake they made. They will only know fear before the end."
———
It had been two agonizing hours since they'd began the search. And now following the faint trail of magic and blood Kaelith and his warriors stood before a shabby abandoned warehouse. Two hours of tracking with the help of the witches—had led them here, to this crumbling, tramp.
It was located at the very edge of the city, far away from population, surrounded by nothing but scrubland and silence. The place looked like it would start crumbling any minute. The windows were broken, the walls had holes in it, and the whole area was surrounded by a rusty fence and shabby trees. It was the kind of place where no one would want to step.
A low growl rumbled in his chest.
"Alpha," Xavier said, standing beside him. "The teams are in position. We have this place surrounded by all sides."
Good," Kaelith said, his eyes flashing gold. "Then let's go get my mate."
The moment Kaelith stepped inside the building—which was more of a shithole than a structure—a deep unease settled over him. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong. The place was strangely, eerily quiet—there were no voices, no footsteps—just the faint creak of the old structure and the hollow whistle of wind through broken windows. He couldn't even sense any presence what so ever.
"Are you sure this is the right location?" Kaelith asked the witch over his shoulder, his voice tight.
"Yes Alpha. The trail is strongest here. Look," The witch held out a map, the warehouse's location glowing brighter. "Luna is confirmed over here."
"Stand guard. Lucien, take a few warriors and search the west area. Xavier, you check the east." Kaelith commanded to his beta and gamma and they both nodded and dispersed.
As Kaelith rounded a corner, he sniffed the air once again, desperate for a trace of Isla's scent. Instead, a thick, fresh yet rotten, coppery stench of blood hit him, so strong it was almost suffocating. A cold, sharp dread, colder than anything he'd ever felt, shot straight down his spine. Was she okay? Did something happen to her? His wolf let out a silent, internal snarl of pure panic.
Just then, a faint rustle came from a shadowy corner up ahead. Kaelith motioned for his team to hold back as he moved silently toward the noise. There, slumped against the wall, was a rogue wolf, barely conscious and muttering to himself, his eyes wide and completely deranged.
Kaelith crouched, gripped a fistful of the rogue's torn shirt and yanked him up. "Where is she?!" he snarled, his face inches from the his. "Where is my mate?!"
The rogue just stared back, his eyes filled with a terror that was distant. He mumbled nonsense, his words a stream of gibberish. "N..no..nnoo…didn't do anything… all… kill… kill… all of them…"
"Fucking useless," Kaelith spat. Frustration and fear boiled over him and he shoved him away in disgust, the rogue's body hitting the concrete floor with a thud.
"Someone get this pathetic waste of scum out I'll deal with him later." he barked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the dark hallway ahead.
As he straightened up, a sudden gust of wind blew through a broken window, cutting through the overwhelming stench of blood. And there it was. For just one precious second, he caught it—the faintest trace of her scent. It was there and gone, so faint it made his heart clench painfully. Her scent was weak, too terrifyingly weak, but it was a trail. Without a second thought, Kaelith took off, following the fading scent.
He rounded corners, his boots scuffing against the grimy concrete as he passed empty rooms filled with rusted machinery and decay. He was about to blow past another doorway when he skidded to a sudden halt. His head snapped to the side, and a low, thunderous growl of pure fury ripped from his chest, echoing in the crumbling space.
There, in the middle of the room under a dangling, bare lightbulb, was Isla. Tied to a heavy wooden chair, her body was limp, head hanging low. Even from the doorway, he could clearly see her battered state—deep gashes on her arms, a dark, ugly bruise coloring the side of her face, her lip split and swollen.
A blind rage consumed him. His heart clenched. The rest of the world blurred into the background. There was only her. He crossed the room in three long strides.
He dropped to his knees before her, his hands moving with a desperate, tender urgency. With careful precision, he sliced through the thick ropes binding her wrists and ankles, the fibers snapping apart easily.
The moment she was free, she slumped forward. He caught her, gathering her limp form tightly against his chest, into his arms. He held her, one arm supporting her back, the other cradling her head against his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent beneath the coppery overlay of blood, and let out a shuddering sigh.
For a terrifying second, there was nothing. Then, he felt it—the faint flutter of her pulse. A wave of relief washed over him. He pulled back just enough to gently cup her face, his thumb stroking her bruised cheek. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, his voice a raw, broken whisper against her skin. "Thank goodness... Oh, thank goodness you're alive."
Xavier and Lucien rushed into the room after a moment and the second they did, their eyes widened and a loud, trailing stream of curses immediately left their mouths.
"What the... bloody fucking hell?"
"Freaking shit..."
The raw, horrified shock and disgust in his Beta's and Gamma's voice finally broke through Kaelith's concentration. He looked up from Isla's face, confused by their stunned reaction. His gaze followed their wide-eyed, fixed stares, which were locked on the space around him.
And as his eyes fully adjusted to the dim light, taking in what made his first in commands horrified to the spot, the sight made his gut twist violently. His jaw clenched, ticking the muscles in his cheek. His arms around Isaldora tightened protectively.
Scattered across the floor around them were bodies—at least half a dozen rogues. They were torn apart in the most gruesome and brutal way imaginable. It looked less like a fight and more like a slaughter. Dark blood ran across the concrete floor in thick, glistening streams, seeping into the cracks and pooling beneath the bodies.
Xavier stepped forward with disbelief, "Holy hell… what happened in here?"