Page 34

The second the door to the guest room swings open, I know that Sarina is gone.

Beside me, Veva sucks in a strangled, painful gasp, stepping into the room and falling onto the bed. She rips the covers to the side, breathing hard, pulling the duvet clean off onto the floor, like Sarina might be tangled up in the blankets.

Straight away, I glance at the window—still locked. The room shifts with the wind outside, and glows in the light of a charge plugged in on the other side of the bed. There’s nothing to indicate that Sarina didn’t leave of her own volition.

“Sarina!” Veva calls her daughter’s name like she’s in trouble, dropping down to look under the bed, then opening the closet door, her shoulders rising and falling steeply as she gasps for air as each hiding spot comes up empty.

The next time she calls her daughter’s name, it comes out a sob, “ Sarina !”

Despite everything, I reach out, putting a steadying hand on Veva’s shoulder, something in my chest unlocking when she leans against it, accepting my comfort.

“There’s no sign that anyone got in,” I say. “Let’s check around the rest of the house—maybe she’s playing hide and seek.”

Veva is already walking out the door, listing her objections even as we work through the rooms. “She knows better to do that, and the protection spell wouldn’t have gone off if she left on purpose. I put it together specifically…”

We make it to the living room, and I start to realize Sarina is not in this house.

While Veva checks behind the couch, I pull my phone out, calling Dorian.

It’s late, and he and Kira are likely already in bed after the celebration tonight, but he picks up on the first ring, sounding a bit out of breath.

“Emin?”

“Dorian, Sarina is gone.”

Veva goes to the stairs, running back up to the guest room, like Sarina might have come back. I follow her, looking more closely for clues about where she’s gone.

On the other end of the phone, there’s rustling, my sister’s tired voice, the sound of Dorian getting out of bed quickly. “What do you mean? The Grayhides? Retaliation for the deaths at the motel?”

I circle the room, look out the window, breathe in deeply. There is no smell in here. None at all—which Veva made sure of. Another ripple of frustration rises inside me, reminding me of her scent-blocking. That I’m blind to Sarina, and without a scent, the girl is going to be impossible to track.

It’s a good reason why shifter children don’t normally run away, or sneak out. It’s ridiculously easy for parents to find them, track them down. Your nose is especially attuned to that of your offspring—even more than it is to other wolves.

“I’m not sure,” I finally say, when I realize Dorian is still waiting on the other end of the line.

Veva pushes out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time, still calling for her daughter. She looks in every closet, under every piece of furniture, telling her that she’d better come out and that it is not funny to hide .

“You’re not sure?” There’s a jingling sound, and I realize Dorian has grabbed his keys. The man moves quickly in a crisis, that’s for sure.

“Veva has been casting scent-blocking spells on Sarina, I don’t know if that would have covered any Grayhide scents. I couldn’t smell a thing in her room, so I’m not sure—”

“They wouldn’t.”

I stop, realizing Veva has turned around and is looking at me. Her entire body shakes as she roughly yanks on a jacket. When I look outside, I realize it’s not just drizzling anymore—the rain is coming down in droves.

It almost never rains here, and certainly not like this.

“Veva—”

“It wouldn’t cover the smell of other shifters,” Veva says, shaking her head. “You can smell me, right?”

I stop, realizing yes, I can smell her, and she goes on, “The spell specifically only covers Sarina. If there was someone else in that room with her, we would know. The scent would still be there.”

“Is it possible that it messed up? Why would—”

“Emin,” Veva snaps, stepping toward me, her eyes murderous. “She must have heard the two of us arguing. She must have run away in this ,” Veva swings her arm out, indicating the weather outside. In the distance, a streak of lightning cleaves the sky, and I’m rendered breathless for a moment.

“I’m coming,” Dorian says. “I’ll have to focus on driving to get into town, but—call the guys. As many of them as you can. We’ll assemble a task force and start looking for her.”

Veva slams out the front door, the sound of my calling after her swallowed by the wind.

Everything has gone wrong tonight. My brain itches at me to talk to her, to right this, for us just to be able to admit that we’ve both hurt each other and move on, but the most important thing is to find Sarina.

Once we find Sarina, we can work through everything else.

Together, Veva and I move along the property line. I make call after call.

“Hello?”

When Aidan answers, he sounds like I’ve pulled him from a centuries-long sleep.

“Sarina is missing,” I start without preamble, wanting to be as efficient as possible. “We need guys to look—”

“You got anyone on the border?” Aidan asks.

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ll go south, to the border.”

“Okay.”

Together, as we make our way down the street—Veva hollering for her daughter loudly and without shame—the neighborhood starts to wake up.

People stand on their porches, peering out into the night, realizing it’s Veva Marone, walking through the town in the middle of the night, searching for her daughter.

I stand tall beside her. No. Searching for our daughter.

Raising a hand to the onlookers, I signal to them that everything is okay. I expect them to go back inside their homes, get out of the rain, but we’re surprised when they only disappear briefly before re-emerging, coming to walk out our sides.

“Hey,” a man says, and I turn to see Brock, the general store owner, and his wife, Alecia. “What’s going on?”

“Sarina is missing,” Veva shouts, turning to him only for a moment, before facing the street again, cupping her hands around her mouth and calling into the rain, “ Sarina!”

“Oh no,” Alecia says, shaking her head and pulling out her phone. “I’ll call my pickleball club. They’ll come out and help.”

“Let me get the small business association on the line,” Brock says, clapping his hand down on my shoulder. “We’ll fill the streets with people looking until we find your little girl.”

My throat swells, and I nod.

Within twenty minutes, the entire town is flooded with people looking. Every park bounces with flashlights, and shifters from the pack turn up in their rain coats, umbrellas held aloft, all of them calling out Sarina’s name again and again.

After an hour of searching, Beth appears, and Veva practically runs to her.

“Can you find her?” Veva asks, breathless.

“I can do my best,” Beth says. “Do you have something that belongs to her? Something I can touch.”

Veva starts to panic, sucking in a breath, but I reach into my pocket—I’m still wearing the dress pants from earlier—and pull out the little folded bunny she made for me.

“Will this work? She made it for me earlier.” I shield it from the rain, holding it up for Beth to see. Veva’s eyes skip from the bunny and back to me, and Beth nods, a strange look on her face as she takes it, cupping it in her hand like a precious thing.

“No promises,” Beth says, before meeting my gaze. “But let’s see what we can do with this little thing.”

“Veva!” Kira comes running down the street, looking like she’s just barely managed to throw something on, her hair tied up. When she reaches Veva, my sister wraps her into a hug. I expect Veva to push her away, but, to my surprise, she melts into it.

Kira hugs her for a long moment, then pulls back, holding her at arms-length.

“We’ll fine her, love.” Kira says, sounding for all the world like that’s a promise she can make. “We’ll work together, and we’ll find her.”