Page 21 of Nick (The Moonstone Pack #4)

AS NICK AND RYKER approached the abandoned mine on the outskirts of town, Ryker dropped to a crouch behind a cluster of boulders and shifted back into his human form. Following suit, Nick caught sight of several vehicles parked outside the decaying shaft entrance.

“Down,” Ryker hissed, slicing his hand through the air.

One by one, Malcolm, Anders, Larissa, Conall, and Quinton dropped and shifted as well.

Bronx, who had taken up the rear of the group, frowned at the cars. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“Too many,” Ryker said, his voice barely above a growl.

Nick’s nostrils flared as he breathed in the scents carried by the hot breeze, searching for clues amid the dust and diesel. His mind raced—every second they spent hiding was a second Sarah remained in danger.

“Any idea who we’re dealing with?” Bronx asked, breaking the momentary silence.

“Vincent’s lackeys, most likely,” Larissa said, her gaze never leaving the mine entrance.

“Gregory and Percy, for sure. Maybe others,” Malcolm added.

“Could be a trap,” Conall said.

“Then we’ll spring it on them,” Quinton said.

“Quiet,” Nick ordered, his impatience simmering just below the surface. He couldn’t afford any mistakes—not with Sarah’s life hanging in the balance.

“Waiting plays into their hands,” Conall said. “Every second—”

“Is a second for us to be smart,” Nick cut in. He gestured at the cars. “They’re here. She won’t stand a chance if we barge in without a plan.”

They settled into an uneasy surveillance. Nick’s anger and impatience churned within him. But his protective instincts held him back, forcing him to be strategic. Sarah needed him to be smart, not reckless.

The rustle of gravel under heavy boots pricked his ears, and he tightened his grip on the jagged rock that offered them cover. Through a narrow crevice, he watched two figures emerge from the shadows of the mine.

Vincent Foley and his enforcer Gregory Torrance.

“Time to go.” Vincent’s voice carried faintly on the wind.

The alpha’s hands were darkened, and even from this distance, Nick could see him swiping a bloodstained cloth across his palms, cleaning off the evidence of savagery. A primitive growl threatened to rumble in Nick’s chest.

“Look at him,” Anders hissed. “Preening like the devil himself.”

“Patience,” Ryker said.

But Nick was hardly listening, a low growl emanating from deep within his throat, resonating with the simmering anger that vibrated through the group. His fur would’ve bristled if not for his human form, and his eyes held a dangerous glint.

“We should take them down now, while we have the element of surprise,” Malcolm said.

Nick’s gaze never wavered from the two men who had taken Sarah from them. He felt the pull of Malcolm’s words. But the image of Sarah—broken, bleeding—held his fury at bay.

“Easy,” Ryker murmured, placing a hand on Nick’s tense shoulder. “Our moment will come. But first, we find Sarah.”

“Stay focused,” Ryker whispered, more to himself than to the others.

Nick nodded, the muscles in his jaw working as he swallowed back his impatience. His gaze sharpened, focusing on the yawning darkness of the mine’s entrance.

Vincent and Gregory strode confidently toward their vehicles, unaware of the eyes that tracked their every move. They drove away, leaving behind only one dark sedan.

“Okay,” Ryker said. “We move now.”

“Sarah is our priority,” Nick added through clenched teeth. “We get her out safe. Then we settle scores.”

Malcolm nodded, his expression grim. Anders’s muscles tensed, ready to spring into action. Larissa’s eyes were hard, reflecting the resolve that bound them all. Conall and Quinton exchanged a glance.

Nick’s muscles tensed as he followed Ryker and Bronx, ducking into the mine. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic that set his senses on edge.

“The torture room’s not far,” Malcolm growled under his breath.

“Lead the way,” Nick said.

Anders and Larissa followed, their expressions grim, while Conall and Quinton brought up the rear.

When they arrived at the chamber, the sight that greeted them churned Nick’s stomach.

Silver chains dangled from the ceiling like grotesque ornaments, and an array of cruel instruments lay scattered across a bloodstained table.

An overturned chair lay on the ground, another pile of chains beside it.

But it was the coppery tang of fresh blood that hit him hardest.

“Damn it,” Nick cursed. “She’s not here.”

“Look at all this,” Anders muttered, picking up a rusted blade and examining it with disgust before tossing it back onto the table.

“Vincent’s been busy,” Larissa spat. She kicked the overturned chair aside, her every movement radiating anger.

Nick’s gaze swept the room, taking in every splatter and smear on the stone floor.

“Where is she?” Conall murmured.

“Spread out,” Ryker commanded, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “Search for any clue. We need to find her—now.”

The rebels moved with renewed purpose, scouring the room for any shred of evidence that might lead them to Sarah. Ryker sniffed along the wall, his nostrils flaring as he sought out her scent among the myriad of odors that filled the room.

“Nothing over here,” Quinton said after a moment, shaking his head in frustration. “It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

“Shifter or not, nobody vanishes without a trace,” Nick snapped, his impatience boiling over.

“Keep looking.” Nick’s nostrils flared as he paced the perimeter of the room, his senses on high alert.

The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air.

His eyes narrowed, and he scanned the floor until he caught a sight that sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins—a trail of blood, fresh and dark against the stone.

“Over here,” he called out as his gaze followed the droplets spattered across the ground. The others converged on him, their expressions tight.

“Sarah’s,” Nick confirmed before anyone could ask, recognizing the unique scent that had haunted him ever since he’d left Sunburst—a scent that now held pain and fear.

The trail was too distinct, too easy to track. It meant she was badly hurt—and even the resilience of a shifter had its limits.

He took off at a brisk pace, following the sanguine path that twisted deeper into the mine’s corridors. The others fell in step behind him, ready to leap into action at a moment’s notice.

The blood trail led them through a narrow passage that opened into a wider cavern. Nick hesitated for only a second before plunging forward, checking for any sign of movement, any hint of life.

“She can’t have gone far. Not with this much blood lost.” Larissa’s voice was strained.

“Then we’ll find her faster.” Nick refused to imagine Sarah succumbing to her wounds alone in the dark. And yet every drop of blood felt like an accusation, a reminder of how he’d walked away from Sarah once before.

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—lose her. Not when every fiber of his being screamed that she was his true mate—that she was the missing piece of his soul.

“She’s here somewhere,” he said. “And we’re bringing her home.”

Then he shifted into his wolf and began racing through the tunnels, still following the trail of blood he hoped would lead him to Sarah.