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K ieran

The control center hums quietly, the steady glow of monitors illuminating the dark room.

It’s where I spend most of my nights now, surrounded by the latest tech upgrades to Moonfang’s security systems. I’ve fortified the estate with layers of surveillance and monitoring tech.

Since the exponential success of my security systems company in the last eighteen months, I’ve been able to make even more resources available for my pack.

But as I sit here, staring at the same reports I’ve read a hundred times, I feel no satisfaction.

The truth is, all of this—every piece of equipment, every innovation—has been a distraction…a way to drown out the gnawing ache of guilt that’s festered in my chest for months now.

Guilt over Hazel.

Two years ago, I made the worst decision of my life.

I believed lies, chose duty over instinct, and sent her away.

I told myself it was for the good of Moonfang, that protecting the pack came first. Damon had convinced me the threat from Nightclaw was real, that Hazel was a spy planted to weaken us.

But the truth was simpler, more devastating. I had been wrong.

I discovered the truth a year and four months after Hazel was gone.

It came in the form of a confession from one of my spies, a low-ranking wolf desperate to avoid punishment and obtain power.

He admitted to fabricating a plot against Moonfang, hoping to gain favor with Magnus Callister and Jag Nightbeam to gain a foothold in their pack.

He claimed he acted alone and it wasn't a real plot.

He swore he just used it as evidence of loyalty.

The moment the words left his mouth, everything inside me went still. My wolf growled something nasty, and in the blink of an eye, the spy was a mere splatter of blood all over the wooden floor.

I’d been so focused on the threat to Moonfang, so consumed by my responsibilities as Alpha, that I let paranoia cloud my judgment. I let Damon’s warnings guide me, even when my wolf clawed at me to believe her.

Hazel wasn’t a spy. She was innocent. Our bond was pure.

And I’d destroyed her.

Damon enters the room now, his footsteps measured, his expression calm as always. But even his steady presence can’t soothe the storm inside me.

“Another late night?” Damon is illuminated by the gray light from the monitors.

It flickers on his face and enhances his dark features.

It’s more like a habit at this point. Some part of me was always watching out for traces of Hazel.

I know it’s delusional. But I couldn’t cross the boundaries of another pack. That would be begging for war.

“Always.” Saying that made me aware of the tiredness that had settled in my bones.

“You’ve been staring at the same reports for hours,” Damon says, his tone carefully neutral. “What are you really looking for?”

I clench my jaw, my fingers tightening on the edge of the desk. “You know what I’m looking for.”

Damon sighs, his gaze heavy. “Kieran, it’s been eight months of searching.”

“Don’t.” I chose to forgive him for the error of not cross-checking his facts before presenting the information to me that day. But he is not blameless. He had a hand in this, and I can't excuse him of that.

He doesn’t flinch, though, more used to my reactions than anyone else. “You’ve done everything you can to find her. The trackers, the informants, the surveillance teams—we’ve combed every corner of the territory and beyond. You even sent another spy to Nightclaw. If she doesn’t want to be found—”

I swam in guilt for so long about turning my back on my Mate.

I had to make sure of what happened and sent a spy, to validate myself, ease this guilt.

Yet Damon sounds like I should just get over the fact that she was severely punished because of my actions.

After finding out what happened to her in Nightclaw from my spy, my heart was shattered, and the guilt pierced deeper by the day. I was wrong.

I couldn’t protect her from Jag and Magnus.

I couldn’t protect her from her own pack.

The scent of her wolf was gone when she left the neutral territory and went back to her pack, making it nearly impossible to trace her.

But I know that doesn’t mean she’s dead.

I can still feel her through the divine bond that wraps around my heart.

“She is out there,” I snap now, finally turning to face him. “I feel it. The bond hasn’t broken.”

Damon exhales slowly, like he’s trying to muster all the patience that he can. “I’m not saying you should give up. But this…obsession? It’s consuming you.”

“She’s my Mate, my Luna.” Anger flares across my chest. “I was supposed to protect her. I need to make this right.”

Damon studies me for a long moment, his gaze searching. “You’ve always put the pack first without remorse. Always. But this? This is personal.”

“Of course it’s personal,” I snarl. “It’s my Mate.”

His expression shifts, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. Damon has always been practical, logical. But even he can’t deny the weight of my guilt now. He knows what it feels like to lose a Mate. To lose your Goddess-ordained family.

“She can’t be the same wolf you knew,” Damon says quietly.

“I don’t care. Whatever she’s become, wherever she is, she’s still mine.”

The search for Hazel has taken me to places I never thought I’d go.

For months, I scoured the territories surrounding Moonfang, following every whisper of a rogue pack, every report of a lone wolf matching her description.

Every account of an Omega that was sent to the dungeons. Every wolf that was reported dead.

I sent trackers to the neutral zones, informants to Nightclaw, even rogues willing to trade information for safe passage. Each lead brought me closer, but never close enough. She always seemed to slip through my fingers, a shadow I could never quite catch.

The nights were the hardest. That was when the bond burned brightest, my need for her racking through my body like a curse. My wolf howled for her, restless and angry, demanding I find her, demanding that I undo what I had done.

“You’ve changed,” Damon said to me once late at night when we were alone in the control center.

“How could I not?” I’d lived my life waiting for my Mate. And when I finally found her, worthy to be my Luna, a formidable warrior, I had fucked it all up.

He didn’t argue.

But now, two years later, even Damon’s trust in my decisions is beginning to waver. But he doesn’t dwell on it. He moves on to more important matters.

“What are we doing about Eldon, Alpha?”

The latest reports from Broadstone bring a new thread to pull. Eldon, a rogue leader I’ve been tracking for years, has established a base near the neutral city. His movements are calculated, and his attacks on us have been methodical, but it’s the location that catches my attention.

Broadstone.

I’ve avoided the city for years, its reputation for lawlessness and danger making it a last resort.

But something about Eldon’s presence there feels…

deliberate. He’s never in a place for long.

But he’s been in Broadstone for the past year according to these reports.

There must be something keeping him there.

And so long as I don’t know why, he remains a threat I don’t want to tolerate.

I sit at my desk, staring at the map on the screen, my mind racing. What if…what if she’s in the one place I haven’t looked?

“I’m going,” I break the silence, not letting any other thought get in the way .

Damon looks up from his seat across the room, his brow furrowing. “To Broadstone?”

“Yes.”

“You don't have to personally be there for this mission. You're not exactly spy material.” And he's right. It's near impossible for an Alpha to “blend in” among other shifters. But it doesn't matter.

“I'm also going to look for Hazel.”

He shakes his head, his frustration evident. “You can't stop me, Damon.”

He groans, not impressed by my reasoning. “You’re the Alpha, Kieran. You can’t just leave the pack to chase ghosts.” Damon rises, his gaze hardening. “And what if she doesn’t want to be found? What if she’s moved on?”

The words hit harder than I expected, but I don’t let it show. “Then I’ll deal with that when I see her.”

Hazel is out there, somewhere. And I won’t stop until I bring her home. I set out for Broadstone the next evening,

Broadstone’s streets hum with danger, the faint buzz of the city’s protective wards doing little to drown out the chaos that lurks just beneath the surface.

My wolf is restless, pacing inside of me, his instincts flaring in warning.

I pause, standing just outside the door to a bar I’ve been told is a favorite spot for Eldon’s men.

The air outside the bar is heavy with the mingled scents of blood, alcohol, and tension.

The flickering neon sign above the entrance casts a weak glow over the cracked pavement, and the sounds of muffled laughter and clinking glasses drift out into the night.

The moment I step closer, it hits me—a scent that stops me cold.

Familiar. Warm. Electric.

Hazel.

My chest tightens, the bond flaring to life as her scent wraps around me like a vice. It’s faint, but it’s there, cutting through the stench of rogues and stale beer. My wolf freezes, then snarls, its fury and longing crashing into me all at once.

She’s here.

And she takes my breath away. She has a glow about her as she smiles, her cheeks lifting as her face lights up. Her hair is shorter than I remember, but it frames her perfect, round face so well. She's wearing a fitted lavender top, and the outline of her breasts makes my mouth water.

Our Mate. We've found our Mate. My wolf perks up.

I want to touch her again, cup her face, feel her smooth, soft skin again. I want to drown in the sparkle of her translucent eyes. Claim her, my wolf yearns. She tucks her hair behind her ears and rolls her eyes.