Page 22 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter twenty

Simmering Images

NOAH

R iding in the back of the ambulance feels strangely calm after a night like this.

The engine hums beneath us, a soft lullaby against the chaos we left behind.

Tori sits across from us, fingers wrapped around her mug of herbal tea like it holds the secrets of the universe.

Sera and I sit side by side, our shoulders brushing with every bump in the road.

Tori watches us with a knowing smile, the kind that hints at truths she hasn't spoken yet.

There's a subtle shimmer in the air around her—like magic waiting to unfold—and something in the way her gaze lingers makes the space between Sera and me feel suddenly sacred, charged with something older and deeper than the moment alone can explain.

She sets her mug aside and reaches into the pouch around her waist. “Hold hands,” she says simply.

We do.

She whispers something low and rhythmic in a language older than dirt.

I feel the air charge, the hairs on my arms standing up.

A soft pulse radiates from her hands, passing through our joined palms. Suddenly, the ache in my ribs fades, the burn on my shoulder cools, and Sera’s scraped cheek smooths out before my eyes. It’s like being bathed in warm light.

“Your powers are elevated together,” Tori says, nodding in satisfaction. “Bound witches and wolves create harmony and healing.”

I barely hear her. I’m back in the warmth of last night’s silence with Sera.

After the sex. After the adrenaline. Just the magic, and the soft sound of her breath matching mine.

Her fingers drawing soothing runes across my back.

Her lips murmuring spells into my skin like prayers. My wolf, for once, quiet and content.

But Tori isn’t done.

As the ambulance slows to a stop at the firehouse, she leans forward. Her eyes, usually so calm, now glint with something darker.

“There’s been a warning,” she says. “From the local coven. The Lunaris Curse has been evoked. And the wolves are at your door.”

She offers no further explanation.

Before I can press her, the back doors fly open. Marcus appears, his grin casual, but his eyes sharp.

“Captain wants to see you,” he tells me, jerking a thumb toward the office.

Without even a glance in Sera's direction, I hop down, boots hitting gravel. As I pass him, I hear Marcus taunting Sera.

“Damn, Knowles,” he mutters. “You heal fast.”

My wolf growls low in my chest.

I don’t look back.

Back inside the firehouse, everything feels too bright, too normal.

The overhead lights buzz faintly. The smell of sweat, ash, and lemony disinfectant mingles in the air.

I walk straight past the lounge and locker rooms, ignoring the greetings of a few of the probies.

My thoughts are only on Sera—and whatever the hell that warning meant.

Captain Greene is waiting for me just outside his office. He waves me in without a word. I expect a lecture or a list of tasks, maybe even a reprimand for getting too close to one of the probies. But instead, he just hands me a sealed manila envelope.

“Evidence from the last arson,” he says. “Thought you’d want a look before the official report goes in. Chain of custody is intact.” He watches me closely, gauging my reaction.

Inside are photos of the gas can, melted jewelry, a printout of the preliminary forensics on the body parts.

But what catches my eye is the corner of a scorched photograph, recovered near the body.

It's half-burned, but I recognize the background: the woods behind Firehouse 333.

And in the foreground…two people. One is cut off, except for the toe of what looks to be a work boot. The other…Bode, smiles into the camera.

I swallow the growl rising in my throat. I thank the Captain, return the envelope to him and excuse myself. Keep it casual, Noah.

I head toward my office.

I need to see what was on that video I picked up at the motel fire.

I crash through my office door and dig the video cam out from behind my fire safety books where I stashed it.

I lock the door, brace myself and turn it on.

Certain I will see a giant wolf or Bode in human form.

Instead, I see Sera.

She’s snooping around the motel, her movements sharp and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. My pulse ticks faster. Why is she there? Who is she watching? A flicker of dread coils low in my gut.

Ducking behind some bushes.

She appears to be watching someone.

Then I see a brown eye with a pierced eyebrow in the corner of the camera. Right before a hand smashes it.

I fall into the chair. So much to process.

One thing is certain I need to get this evidence to the Captain.

But how do I do that and protect Sera?

What was she doing there? What did she see?

So many questions I need to answer before I get the Captain involved.

The only thing that’s clear…I know the owner of the brown eye and tuft of hair.

I don’t bother knocking.

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, hair damp from a quick shower, one knee pulled up to her chest. Her head lifts the second the door creaks open. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t ask why I’m here. She just smiles.

I cross the room in two strides, set the camera on the nightstand, and fall to my knees in front of her. My hands grip her thighs, firm and urgent, borderline demanding. She leans into my touch like she’s been waiting for it all day.

But not this touch. I don’t know whether to kill her or kiss her.

Everything in me wants to mark her. But first, I have questions.

“We need to talk,” I say.

“Of course.”

She waits patiently for me to continue, expectant.

I don’t say a word.

I simply pick up the video cam and show her.

Together we stare at the now black screen.

“It was Marcus,” she simply states like that clears everything up.

“I know. What was he doing there?”

“Well, smashing the camera obviously.”

I stand and withdraw the camera.

“Sera, are we gonna keep playing this game? I want to protect you, but I can’t unless you tell me what you know.”

She sits in silence as if she’s dissecting the evidence.

“Why were you following Marcus?”

“I saw him at the coffee shop with Marsha, one of Bode’s girls.”

“And? Bode does love the ladies,” I ask, stating the obvious.

“That’s what I thought. But this seemed tense, like he wasn’t happy with the news. And, you have to admit he’s been acting strangely.”

“So what did you see?”

“Nothing.” She motions toward the camera.

I stare into her eyes. My alpha raising as I inch closer.

“Nothing. I followed him after they left,” she adds. "She went her way. He drove over to the motel, snuck up on the camera and broke it. And then he returned to the firehouse. Suspicious, yes. But that’s all there is.”

I don’t know what I expected to learn, but the pieces aren’t adding up.

I know Marcus. I know he wouldn’t set a fire on purpose.

There must be more to the story.

Sera waits for my response. “Will you turn the camera in as evidence?”

“How can I? You’re on it.”

With that, I turn and leave. Sera sits in silence, a statue of emotions impossible to read.

I, on the other hand, feel like my heart is going to burst out of my skin. Sera. And now Marcus. Are they working together? Are they involved in the arsons?

The only one left I feel I can trust is Tori. Thank God for the Fae.

The next morning I wake to voices.

Frantic, clipped voices echoing down the hall from the bunkroom.

The house is in chaos. Phones are ringing. Radios are hissing. I spot Marcus talking rapidly to the Captain.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Captain Greene looks up, face grave. “Tori’s missing.”

“What do you mean ‘missing’?”

“She left the station late last night,” Marcus says. “Didn’t check in. Her room’s untouched. No one’s heard from her.”

I spin around and rush to Sera.

By the time I arrive back at the women’s dorm, the girls are dressed and frantically running the halls. Sera is in her room already sitting up, eyes wide.

“I can’t feel her,” she says, voice cracking. “I tried to reach out—telepathically—but all I see is darkness.”

Her lips tremble.

“She’s gone, Noah.”

I go to her. Her head nestles into my chest. We fit together like we are meant to. The softer, more vulnerable Sera letting go of her secrets for a moment to open to my wolf.

I stroke her hair.

It reminds me when I did the same for the young, sweet Tori when we first met.

I pushed her hair back from that sweet impish face, the tears, the fear, the first time I grabbed her and lifted her out of the fire.

It was the first time I let someone see me in my non-human form.

When I set her down near the approaching firetruck, she realized I was saving her, not eating her.

Somewhere under the fear, I could sense her acceptance, and a bond was formed.

Ever since I pulled that trembling angel from the fire, something shifted in me—like her light granted me a place among humans, even though I was born of shadow. I have saved her many times since, and she has saved me even more.

What I never considered was how I knew where to find her so easily that night.

I had been out hunting and had just finished consuming a nice plump raccoon when I smelled the smoke.

But there was an underlying cry for help that echoed through the night, drawing me to the specific underbrush where she had fallen.

Now I know I must have felt the supernatural pull as she was healing her ankle.

In the frenzy of the moment, I did not connect the dots.

Ironic that the approval I felt when I set her down wasn’t a human response at all. Yet, that belief served me…and her…all of these years. I know now how important it was to know we each had someone handy to watch our backs.

But this time I don’t know how to have her back. Or if it’s already too late.

I return to the firehouse after four hours of scouring the woods for any scent of her. Nothing.

I even drove out to where the film crew was shooting certain I would uncover suspicious activity.

I found nothing strange. Just a shoot near the bridge on the edge of town.

Surprisingly, they were filming what looked to be an environmental documentary with interviews with the Lolo mayor and a local librarian. An actual shoot.

I feel the loss deeper than I would have imagined and on multiple levels. One, the very real loss of my healing friend. Piled onto that, the additional grief it is causing my mate, who has not shown her face in the firehouse since I left her this morning.

Now as I down my burger and fries, I feel the crash. I am motionless and empty, sitting in the middle of a tornado with activity circling me on all sides. The best I can physically do is to pick up bits and pieces as people walk through, but no one is saying what I need to hear.

Captain Greene is grilling the staff for any details that can help locate Tori.

He looks better than he did the other day despite the heightened threat.

He seems almost back to his old self, tracking down clues and weeding out suspects in the mundane world.

It makes me wonder what happened when I wasn’t looking.

The local police wander through to report no sign of her vehicle.

The helicopter continues to report back every thirty minutes. Again, nothing.

Amidst all of the nothing, I try to find reason for hope, clenching my fists beneath the table as if that act alone might summon her scent on the wind or a trace of her laugh echoing down the hall.

As they say, no news is good news. No bodies or fires have been reported…

either in our county or those nearby. And none of us have found any remains.

For now, Tori’s disappearance is a complete and disturbing mystery.

And one that I fear will not have a happy ending.