Page 27 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

I groan as early morning sunlight filters through my heavy eyelids, and I swallow, fighting against the unnatural dryness in my mouth and throat. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that heavily or deeply in my life.

My little rogue did that for me. Safe and snuggled in my arms, she brought me a peace and a clarity I never imagined existed.

Her mere presence soothed everything in me: the restless, wandering spirit that never feels like it truly belongs here; the ache in my soul from hiding that restlessness from my friends and family; and the primal, dark beast growing wilder by the day.

I stretch, pushing away the claws of sleep clutching the edge of my consciousness, and I curl my arms in to bring Sarina further into my embrace.

Only, there is no Sarina in my arms.

My eyes fly open. Heart pounding, I whip my head around the tent, searching for her, already knowing what I will see.

It’s empty—save for me, a pile of rumpled clothes, the blanket we slept under, and the red fabric I tied her up with last night.

With a heaving chest and panicked breaths, I spring to my feet, exiting the tent without dressing. There is no time for that. I need to find her. I need to get to her.

Desperation claws at my throat as I stand in the empty clearing, back to her tent, and I freeze in my tracks as my eyes confirm what my soul already knows.

There’s nothing.

Nothing .

Not a trace of her. Of them.

No tents. No fire pit. Not even a breadcrumb of a clue.

As if they were never here to begin with. As if they only exist in my mind, in my memories.

The claws wrapping themselves around my throat grow sharper until they pierce my soul.

My hands curl into fists at as I fight the burgeoning, bubbling volcano rising from the depths of my being.

I roll my neck, cracking it, jaw and eyes clenched.

My muscles ripple from the effort I’m exerting to restrain myself.

I clutch at the tent, gripping the poles, and press my forehead into my fists. I don’t know why. It’s not like the tent can support me. But my body can’t support the weight of the blood thickening in my veins, can’t withstand the burning in my soul at the realization that she’s gone.

She’s gone.

Gone .

I snap. A bellowing roar echoes around the clearing, bouncing off the tree trunks and sending birds fleeing from their nests.

My claws slash through the tent like it is nonexistent, ripping giant tears into the fabric—tears too large to be mended, tears that are a mirror image of the gashes forming on my heart with each minute of her absence.

Another roar rips through me as I lift the tent, yanking the stakes out of the ground, and toss it across the clearing.

Without pausing, I stalk around the space, inhaling through my nose with each step, searching for their trail.

For her trail. For that sweet, sensual, perfect honeysuckle scent that lingers on her skin, telling me stories of summer and magnificent exotic landscapes.

But it’s gone. It ends several feet from where her tent sat, and then it disappears from existence.

The third roar that leaves me is more thunderous, tumultuous, and unsettling than the first two. It originates not from my chest but from my lycan, and it sends me into a frenzy.

My lycan demands control, forcing his way to the forefront of my mind. My jaw snaps as I grapple with his presence, bones cracking as he pushes and fights against my restraint.

I drop to all fours on the ground. Holes appear beneath me where my claws pierce the soil as I catch myself. My spine arches and contracts. Roars, snarls, and growls echo and boom in quick succession. They overlap as they bounce around the forest while I continue to wrestle my lycan for control.

But it’s pointless. My pain is his pain. We share the heartache of Sarina’s departure and the burden of the endless time we will endure while apart.

He breaks through my mental chains, through the damper I keep in place on him to hide his true nature and power, and in seconds, I’m fully shifted—a passenger in the body of a beast.

As soon as the last piece of his fur is in place, he rises onto his hind legs and lets out a soul-piercing, melancholy howl, and I do nothing to hold him back or rein in the volume. We’re far enough away, and it’s early enough that the odds of anyone hearing him are slim.

He howls again, neck arching and muzzle straight in the air, pointing towards the moon even though we can’t see it, as if he’s calling to Selene and begging her to reverse this chain of events.

Then he races away from the clearing, claws out and slashing at the tree trunks, letting the pain take hold of our body and our soul as we sprint through the forest.

I don’t know how long we ran through the forest. I tried several times to turn us around, to send us back to the clearing, but my lycan refused.

When that didn’t work, I attempted to disappear into the recesses of my mind, giving full control to him, but he didn’t let me do that either.

He made me stay present through it all, forcing me to feel the full extent of the anguish and despair pulsing through us.

I witnessed every second of his rage-filled tantrum.

He tore through the forest, leaving a trail of destruction in our wake. Uprooted trees, boulders smashed into rocks, pebbles, and dust, and completely demolished clearings of wildflowers dot the forest between our pack, Amber Forest, and Silver Ridge.

At least he had the wherewithal to stay outside the borders of our neighboring packs .

I trudge back into the clearing the rogues stayed in, once more in my human form, my lycan finally too exhausted to maintain control. The tent comes into view, and I cross to it, grab my jeans out of it, and slip them on. I examine the tent as I dress, assessing whether any of it is salvageable.

It’s not. Even with a patch job, there is no mending the damage. And I wouldn’t be able to keep it anyway. It has to be destroyed, along with any other traces of her that can’t be washed away.

I gather everything inside it into my arms and drag it through the forest, heading towards one of the clearings I created when I ran through in lycan form. Everything in me aches and strains with the effort of carrying out my plan, but I grit my teeth and power through.

Destroying the traces of her is my singular focus. I can’t explain it, but I know I need to eliminate the evidence of her—them—being here.

I toss everything in the center of the clearing, piling it with dried, dead underbrush that I know will catch fire quickly, and large logs and branches that I know will hold the heat and burn slow enough to turn everything to ash.

The only items I keep are the navy blanket and a small piece of the red fabric I stole all those months ago, that first night we helped each other after Lennox attacked Haven.

I can wash those easier than I can the materials of her tent.

I can sanitize them and hide them away in my apartment or my office at the club, keeping them for only myself and no one else.

My nostrils flare as I strike two stones together, waiting for a spark to catch the kindling I’ve placed around my bonfire.

It doesn’t take long. My dad taught us well, ensuring we all had the skills needed to survive if we were ever stranded somewhere.

The flames burst to life, and I back away, circling the fire as it spreads to the fabric of the tent and the remainder of our clothes within.

With a sigh, I plop onto a broken stump once the fire is blazing and drop my head into my hands. My eyes itch from the pain in my heart that begs to be let loose again, but I press the heels of my palms firmly against my eyelids, forcing it to stop.

Even with his weakened state from our long hours of terrorizing the mountainside, my lycan whimpers in my mind at the absence Sarina leaves behind, at the missing piece of my soul she took with her when she disappeared .

I huff out a sardonic laugh and tilt my chin towards the sky.

Only one other time in my life have I witnessed a lycan react in the way mine did this morning.

And that was twelve years ago, when my brother’s lycan forced him into a dangerous early shift after we learned another family had adopted Haven—the female who ended up being his fated mate.

Somehow, even then, without ever meeting her in the flesh, a part of him knew she was his, knew they were two halves of the same whole.

Just like some part of me, deep down, no matter how much I ignore it or try to deny it, knows Sarina is my mate.

I don’t need to wait until she’s twenty-one. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s mine.

I roar again, jump to my feet, and kick a hole into the stump before whirling to a tree on my right and slamming my fist into it.

Over and over I hit it, growling and snarling, releasing the last of my anguish onto the unsuspecting, innocent tree.

I punch and punch, tearing the skin of my knuckles to shreds, sweat pouring down my forehead and streaming down my neck.

My arms ache with the effort, tension rippling through them with each swing and jab, but I don’t let up.

I need the physical torment to distract from the emotional one.

“Goddess fucking damn it!”

My hand slips on the trunk, and my entire arm scrapes against the rough bark. I grasp at the tree and hold myself up, gritting my teeth and kicking it as I hiss in pain.

I shut my eyes and breathe—in and out, in and out—releasing the tension with each exhale, my forehead pressed against the tree.

“Sebastian.”

I whirl around, my despair painted on my face. Through swollen, red-rimmed eyes, I spy my dad strolling across the destroyed clearing, hands in his pockets.

He doesn’t look at me. He flicks his gaze over the damage and the bonfire, his jaw set.

I straighten and cross my arms, staring at my feet. “Alpha. What are you doing here?”

“The patrol sent me reports of a disturbance in the forest. I decided to look into it personally since you never returned after leaving the grounds last night.”

My nostrils flare, but I don’t respond.

“I’m sorry, son.” His eyes are still on the bonfire. “I know—”

“Don’t,” I growl, glaring at him. “Don’t act like you know. You can’t possibly know, can’t possibly understand what it’s like to have your mate—your fated mate—the female you love, ripped from…” I scoff. “You do not understand.”

If he is surprised at my declaration about Sarina, or surprised that I know he and my mother are not fated mates, he doesn’t show it. Then again, my intuition—my ability to pick up on that which others don’t or can’t—has never surprised him.

His eyes simmer, his aura rippling as he switches his gaze from the fire to me.

“Your mother may not be my fated mate, but my love for her is not inferior. Our bond is no less meaningful.” His voice is low and precise, the warning in it clear.

“I don’t need a fated bond to empathize with the pain you are feeling now. ”

“Oh, now you empathize with your son.” I laugh humorlessly and stroll away from the fire. “I’ll be sure to let Wesley know about your sudden discovery of empathy.”

He grabs my arm and twists, yanking me backwards and pinning my arm behind me, between our bodies. My other arm joins it, grabbed when he caught me by surprise.

“Don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you!

” he roars, his command pulsing around the forest and anchoring me in place.

“I fucked up with your brother, okay? I fucked up. I should have realized sooner exactly how important Haven was to him, and I should have tried harder to save her when Jack and Shirley lost her.”

“But you didn’t!” I snap.

“And I regret that every day. Especially now. If I could, I would go back and change it, but I can’t.”

His voice cracks and strains. In it, I hear an echo of the anguished howls hurtling through the forest twelve years ago, as Wesley ran through it in his lycan form for hours. I hear a whisper of my soul shattering into pieces as I awoke to find Sarina missing.

“I can’t change it, Sebastian.” He sighs, releasing me from his clutches. “But I can help you.”

I slowly spin to face him again, eyes widening.

“I know I’m only the alpha for a few more days, and you won’t need my permission to hunt her down…” He grips my shoulders, and my throat bobs at the remorse, sincerity, and conviction I find in his eyes. “But I promise you, I will help you do whatever it takes to find her again.”

I scan his face, searching for a lie or hesitation, my heart galloping. “Whatever it takes? ”

His grip on my shoulders tightens. “Whatever it takes.”

I nod my acceptance of his offer, and he returns the gesture.

“When you’re ready to begin your search for her, let me know.” He smiles sadly and roughs up my hair, then backs away and walks from the clearing, leaving me alone with the fire and my grief.

I tilt my head towards the sky. A breeze blows through the clearing, winding around the trees and rustling through my hair, bringing with it the ghost of Sarina’s voice in my mind.

“Te amo, Sebastián.” Her voice is soft, sweet, and soothing as she whispers to me. “Siempre te amaré.”

I’m not sure if it’s a memory or a cruel conjuration of my grief-stricken heart, but I cling to the sentiment all the same.

Te amo.

I know what that means, even though I don’t speak Spanish: I love you.

My throat tightens, and a sob works its way through me from my heart. I reach into the void between us, searching for that shining, mysterious star that is Sarina’s soul, the one that has been connected to mine since before time existed.

My mate. My mate who ripped herself from my arms in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye.

I doubt she can feel me or hear me. I can’t sense her, no matter how much effort I exert to reach her. But I try anyway, reaching across space and time with my heart and my words.

“ Te amo .” I swallow and curl my hand into a fist before I repeat myself.

“ Te amo , Sarina.” I lift my eyes to the fire, watching as the last of the flames fade into smoke, embers, and ash, watching as it’s all carried away on the wind with my confession.

“And I will find you again. Te lo prometo .”