Page 13 of Howling Love (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #1)

Basir

In my twenty-five years of life, I’d experienced horrific things.

Moments that would turn the stomach of a seasoned soldier.

Moments that would reduce your hope in humanity to ashes.

Somehow, because of the glowing woman being stolen from me, this moment would be the one imprinted on my tarnished soul.

Gracie didn’t even fight.

The wall of men in front of me were itching for battle, but if I raised my knife now, it would be a slaughter.

In the five minutes that we’d been alone with her, I’d memorized every bruise along her jaw and throat.

I’d studied the way the blood from her nose stained her porcelain skin and silk dress.

I’d watched her labored, heavy breathing as her trembling hand subconsciously grasped at her bruised ribs.

Our medical team hadn’t gotten there in time. Alpha Ivan had had his ears to the ground, watching Gracie close enough that we’d barely had any time with her. And now she was gone.

My fingers tapped against the knife strapped at my hip as I found myself calculating how fast I would have to move to make sure all of them were bleeding out before they could call for reinforcements.

Thornar’s hand on my shoulder brought me back to the present. He nodded to the right—to the door of our suite.

I understood what he was saying; I just wasn’t sure I could walk away.

Even if it was for a mere minute to disperse these other soldiers.

Inhaling sharply, I turned toward the door and forced myself inside. Thornar followed, the door echoing with a hollow thud. We should have brought her into the room. We’d been waiting on Ravik, but it had given Ivan the perfect fucking opportunity.

Thornar was calling him again, but if he wasn’t picking up his phone, it was because something was going on. I watched as my brother-in-arms paced back and forth, looking far more agitated than his normal sunny disposition.

“We can’t just sit here.” Thornar hung up the phone, tossing it down onto the kitchenette counter. “We need to get her away from him—fuck protocol.”

I could practically feel the draw down into the depths of my own darkness as I considered what the minutes alone with Alpha Ivan would mean for Gracie.

I felt like I was spiraling despite standing perfectly still, trying to keep a level of control—a level of logic.

One that clearly didn’t fucking apply to Gracie.

“If we take her, we risk war with Ivan and his allies. She deserves better than being the sacrificial lamb for a bloodbath he’s wanted for nearly a decade.

” Though the words had come from my own mouth, it would take little to convince me otherwise—to act in her best interest. Thornar tried to call Ravik again, and my gaze moved past him to the windows of our suite.

Moonlight shone on the lake, one of the largest and deepest in Thornfell. Yet its depth didn’t compare to the drowning sensation overwhelming me. Drowning in my darkness and the woman that inspired it. Images flashed past me as I tempered my reaction, not allowing myself to peer into that.

To truly consider what I wanted to do to her.

Removing the pocketknife from my belt, I flipped it open, smoothing my thumb over the sharpened edge. Not pressing down hard enough to draw blood, but enough to keep me in the present. I couldn’t afford to snap. I couldn’t afford to lose control.

Gracie had affected me from the moment Ravik mentioned her name, the draw of curiosity impossible to ignore.

I’d followed her silk-covered form to the bathroom where I’d orchestrated my chance.

I’d just wanted to stand in her presence, to see if her cinnamon-sugar scent was as sweet on the tongue.

I hadn’t wanted to feel her fear or to scare her. I hadn’t even wanted to touch her.

Then I’d given into temptation and brushed my lips against her smooth, soft skin.

Gracie was…a glow. Tattoos trailed my own skin, worshipping the light—the sun—but my glow had been blessed by Vorrakar himself. Everything about her was warm, like the sensation of the summer sun on skin. Not an inferno, not an open flame. Just a warm glow, so incredibly gentle and inviting.

So incredibly dangerous.

In her state, she should have reminded me of death—of a wilting flower. Instead, she breathed life into my existence. My wolf howled in relief, as if we’d unknowingly been waiting for her.

I needed to stay far away from Gracie, to keep her safe.

Thornar threw his phone onto the couch. His reckless side was emerging, the willingness to throw himself into danger for our pack, for Ravik as his Beta—and now for Gracie. And I knew we were minutes, if not seconds, from him going rogue.

The door to our suite slammed open as Ravik entered, his gaze darting around before he swore. “Where is she? I got your text?—”

“Gone,” I said. “Ivan brought his men and took her. Bastard brought thirty armed soldiers.” Which meant he was both terrified of us and desperate to hang onto Gracie.

“We’re going after her,” Thornar bit out. “He was the one who put those marks on her skin. I don’t want to imagine what he’s doing now.”

The three of us normally worked in flawless unison. Thornar’s energetic vigor balanced my calm strategic reasoning, and Ravik led us forward. It was that simple.

But not with Gracie. Not right now.

“She’s a prisoner of the Cold Moon Pack,” I said, voicing what all of us knew already. “Ivan won’t let her just walk away.”

“I don’t care,” Thornar spat, getting more and more agitated.

“Continue,” Ravik demanded, trying to hear me out.

“She’s been in their inner circle. If she claims asylum, we could say we’re extracting information from her as an informant. Everyone at this conference hates Ivan anyway, and this would allow them to justify our actions.”

“We heard what Waylon said about trafficking shifters. We could say it’s part of the investigation,” Ravik agreed.

“I don’t care what we need to tell them,” Thornar said, going to the door. “If she has another mark on her, I’m not holding back.”

That was concerning…for Ivan. The three of us stormed from the room, not needing to discuss where we were going.

Since meeting Gracie, we’d been well aware of where she was staying.

I’d even watched her from afar for part of the afternoon.

It was a wonder she hadn’t caught me sitting on the balcony outside of her suite, but I hadn’t wanted to disrupt her nap.

I also didn’t trust myself. There was far too much I wanted to know and explore about Gracie for her to be safe alone with me. My obsession was only deepening as the seconds went by.

After we recovered her, I would keep my distance.

I had to keep my distance.

The room was two floors down from ours, our steps quick and silent as we moved down the service stairway.

When we burst into the hotel hallway, I immediately knew something was wrong.

It was far too quiet, and I didn’t feel the draw that Gracie and her wolf had on me. I didn’t feel that vortex-like pull?—

“Gone. Fucking gone,” Thornar growled from the door to their suite.

The door was unlocked, the room empty, but the chaos from leaving so quickly was evident.

I heard Ravik slam his fist into the wall as I made my way into the room, looking around for anything, anything that would explain what had happened.

“They went back. Their attempt to trade her to Waylon failed, so they left.”

Ravik was right. A trace of her scent lingered, but there was nothing else.

As I stepped into the bedroom, my wolf clawed at my chest. Her clothes—the ones she’d most likely come in—were scattered carelessly across the floor, like she’d been ripped away without a moment to gather anything.

My jaw locked as I moved through the mess, then froze when I saw a small pouch, one that I opened quickly.

Inside, a necklace and two rings. Hers. I pressed them against my chest, a growl rising in my throat.

“We should’ve taken her when we had the chance. I knew she’d been injured, but I thought—fuck, I don’t know what I thought,” Thornar snarled. “Not that her own damn alpha hurt her.”

Crouching down, I ran my fingers through droplets of blood on the tile of the bathroom.

Ravik and Thornar talked in the background, plans, timing, and routes all running past me.

I heard none of it. I already knew what we were going to do.

My gaze followed the drops to the sink, where there was more blood and a few strands of hair.

My vision tinged red as I stood, staring at the smear of blood on the porcelain. Still fresh. My fingers ran through it—still warm.

My hand curled into a fist. My control was slipping, and I didn’t care. Ivan had hurt her. Again .

No more. Never again.

Gracie wasn’t a Cold Moon prisoner anymore. She just didn’t know it yet.