Nyra's POV

The floor seems to slant below me, the world shifting on its axis. For a moment, I couldn't breathe, could not think, could not even feel anything beyond the distant space expanding in my chest.

I did not remember moving, but suddenly I was shoving past Gareth, my feet carrying me toward the grand staircase with desperate speed. My heartbeat sounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the insane prolongation pulsing through my veins. Not again. Not again. Not again.

I take the stairs two at a time, my hand barely touching the flashy handrail. I heard Draven's heavy footsteps behind me, feeling the rush of his Alpha power crackling through the fresh air before a storm, anger and fear joined together into something frightening.

The corridor stretches endlessly before me, each step seeming to extend the distance rather than close it. When I finally reached the guest chamber where Auren was taken, I opened the door with enough force to crack the wood against the stoned wall.

The room is beyond empty. Silent. The four-poster bed stands undisturbed, its covers still neatly tucked in. The wooden toys Gareth had quickly gathered for him, carved wolves and bears, sit untouched on the small table. The window is wide open, curtains rolling like ghosts in the cold night breeze. My stomach declines, a sickening void opening inside me. Then I see it.

A single scrap of black fabric caught on the edge of the window frame, flapping weakly against its wooden prison. I cross the room in three streps, fingers trembling as I pluck it free. The texture is wrong, not wool or cotton, but something slippery and rough. The fabric warriors use for secret missions are treated to minimize scent.

A simple odor loiters in the air, sharp and unfamiliar, not pack, not destructive, but something else altogether. Something that raises the hair on the back of my neck and sends first warning signals racing through my body. My blood runs cold as recognition hits. Kael's men.

Draven fills the doorway behind me, his massive frame blocking the light from the corridor. His scent shifts, darkens with an anger so intense that it makes the air feel heavier and harder to breathe. I hear the simple crack of bones as his hands begin to shift unintentionally, claws extending from human fingertips.

"Gareth," he complained, not looking away from me, from the evidence gripped in my trembling hand. "Gather the trackers, send word to the northern outposts." "I want every warrior assembled within the hour."

Gareth hesitates only for a second. "The Elders will want to meet, to discuss strategy before."

"I do not give a damn what the Elders want," Draven cuts him off, his voice dropping to a register that makes my wolf instinctively want to bare her throat. "My son has been taken, strategy is secondary to speed now."

My son. The words hang in the space between us, weighed with newfound recognition and fierce possession.

My voice shook as I turned to face him fully, the scrap of fabric seized in my fist like a lifeline. "They took him."

Draven's eyes met mine, and what I see there steals the breath from my lungs, not just anger or determination, but fear. The same fear that is flowing through my veins, turning my blood to ice.

"We will find him," he says, and there is something in his tone I have never heard before, a vulnerability beneath the steel, a father's desperation behind the Alpha's command.

For the first time since I walked back into Crescent Moon territory, I did not see the man who abandoned me, who chose duty over love, power over happiness. I see someone else, someone just as terrified as I am, just as willing to tear the world apart to find what has been taken.

"How?" My voice cracked on the word, betraying the fractures spreading through my carefully built walls.

Draven steps closer, close enough that I can see the mark of silver in his irises, smelling the pine and smoke scent that, even after all these years, makes something inside me ache with recognition.

"Because Kael made one critical mistake," he says, his voice low and deadly. "He did not just take a child, he took the son of an Alpha and a forsaken mate." His eyes shone with something ancient and victimizing. "And there is nothing more dangerous in this world."

He stretches his hand toward me, not touching, not confidently, but offering.

"We hunt together," he says, and it is not a question but a statement, an acknowledgment of something primal and undeniable between us.

For seven years, I have carried my pain like armor, wrapped my bitterness around me like a disguise. I have told myself I would never again trust Draven Blackthorn with anything I valued and anything I loved. But this is not about us. It is about Auren.

I take his hand, feel the familiar calluses against my palm, the strength in his fingers as they close around mine.

"We hunt together," I agree, sealing an agreement that is more binding than any mate bond.

Beyond the window, the moon rose full and heavily above the forest, and it filled the land with silver light. Somewhere below that same moon, my son waits, scared, alone and surrounded by enemies. But not for long.

Tonight, Kael Nightbane will learn what it means to steal from wolves.

The pack house bursts into chaos within minutes. Warriors stream through the corridors, their faces hard with purpose. Some shift mid-step, bones cracking and reforming as hair ripples across the skin, while others remain human, gathering weapons and supplies with silent efficiency.

Inside me, my wolf paces restlessly, desperate to break free, to hunt and to tear through forest and field until we find our cub. I push down the urge to shift, panic will not help Auren now. Strategy will.

Draven stands in the center of the great hall, his presence drawing every eye like a lodestone. He has shed the formal attire of the Alpha's chambers, now dressed in black gear that mirrors what I wore during my years as a lone wolf mercenary. The sight jars me, this warrior version of him mixing with my memories of the man in ceremonial furs and silver chains.

"They have perhaps a two-hour head start," he announces, his voice reaching every corner of the room. "The storm tonight will slow them down, they will not risk shifting with a hostage child."

My breath catches. I had not even noticed the gathering storm, but now I could hear the distant rumble of thunder, feeling the electric charge in the air. Nature itself matches with our hunt.

"Alpha," one of the Elders, steps forward, a weathered woman with silver hair pulled into a tight braid. "This looks like a trap, Kael would not risk such a bold move without possibilities."

"Send scouts first? Negotiate?" "While my son spends hours or days in the hands of a man who has sworn to destroy our bloodline?" Draven's words slice through the air like blades. "No. We move now, with overwhelming force."

My fingers find the pendant at my throat, a small silver wolf, the only thing I kept from my time as Draven's mate. The metal is warm against my skin, almost pulsing with an energy that mirrors the restless beating of my heart.

"Kael will not expect us both," I say, the sound of my voice strange in this hall where I once stood as Luna. "He knows Crescent Moon politics." "He will expect debate, planning, proper channels." My lip curls with remembered frustration. "He will expect you to be slowed by protocol."

Draven's eyes find mine across the room, something unreadable sparks in their depths. "And he will expect you to hunt alone."

A murmur spreads through the gathered wolves. Most have avoided looking directly at me since my return, the forsaken mate, the one who left, the symbol of their Alpha's one great failure. But now their eyes track between us, sensing the shift in dynamics, the faking of an unexpected alliance.

"Together we are unpredictable," I continue, stepping closer to the map spread across the central table. "And we know something he does not." Draven raises an eyebrow. "What is that?"

"The western passes." I point to a section of the map where the mountains create a natural barrier between territories. "These were not properly mapped when I left. Kael will be expecting us to track him through the main valleys, where his forces can funnel us into prepared positions."

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Draven's face. "But you found another way through."

I nod. During my years in exile, I mapped every inch of the borderlands, finding hidden paths and forgotten trails, my insurance against ever being truly trapped. "There is a series of ravines that connect, creating a passage too narrow for large groups, but perfect for a surgical strike team."

Gareth leaned forward, studying the area I had indicated. "That is dangerous land in a storm."

"For them," I agree. "But not for us." I look at Draven. "Not if we move as one."

Understanding passes between us, a reminder of how seamlessly we operated once together, before politics and duty and heartbreak separated us. In battle, we were legendary: the Alpha and Luna, whose wolves moved as if they were sharing one mind, anticipating each other's moves before they happened. The mate bond may have been severed, but the muscle memory of fighting together remains sketched in our bodies.

"Gareth, you will lead the main force along the expected route," Draven commands. "Make enough noise to convince Kael that is our primary approach." "Nyra and I will take a small strike team through the western passes."

The room falls silent as we look across the table. At that moment, seven years of bitterness and betrayal seem to withdraw, not disappearing but fading into the background of something more urgent, more primary.

"For Auren," he says softly, words meant only for my ears.

"For our son," I replied, the words felt strange and powerful in my tongue.

Outside, lightning cracks across the sky, revealing the pack house in stark white relief. The storm gathers strength, mirroring the mounting anger in my veins. I feel my wolf stir deeper inside me, muscles coiling, claws itching to tear through the flesh.

Kael wanted to strike at the heart of the Blackthorn pack. Instead, he is awakened by something far more dangerous than he could have imagined: two wolves with nothing left to lose and everything to fight for.

A parent's love is fierce. A wolf's revenge is merciless. And tonight, Kael Nightbane will face both.

Nyra's POV

The night was full of silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the sharp and waiting kind, the kind that presses against your skin and encircles tight in your lungs. Every branch that cracks below our boots sounds like a warning. Every blow of wind feels like it is trying to carry a message we can not quite decode.

We move like shadows through the western pass, the trees waving around us like a guard. The storm is holding off for now, the clouds rolling low and angry above our heads, but I can smell the rain in the air. It is coming, and when it does, it will either cover our route or make everything worse.

Draven runs just ahead of me, with his body tense and his senses sharp. Behind us, our strike team of six follows in silence, wolves and warriors I barely know, but move with the efficiency of soldiers used to being more than they were in numbers. I am grateful for the quiet. Every moment wasted on chatter is one we do not have to spare.

I kept scanning the ground, sniffing the wind and I kept listening. There is no sign of a struggle, no scent strong enough to catch yet. Kael's men know how to cover their tracks. They would have used scent masking, wind direction and probably even split paths to confuse us.

But they forgot one thing. They are not hunting alone. We are wolves chasing our cub.

I bent down for a while along the route, my fingers touching and feeling the flattened grass and the faintest impression of a boot. Smaller than what Kael's men would wear. My heart stutters.

"Auren passed through here," I whisper. Draven bent down beside me, his hand just an inch away from mine as he examined the ground. He did not speak, but I felt his breath catch, saw the tight set of his jaw.

He believes me. "We are close," I said, then I stood up.

We move faster now, passing through the narrow valley that stays between ancient stone and thick underbrush. The path is very dangerous, roots thick as wrists, uneven ground, a sheer drop to one side, but none of us slow down.

My muscles burn, but I barely notice. My wolf is at the edge of my skin, fur brushing the inside of my bones, ready to shift. But I held her back. Not yet and not until we are closer.

A distant sound cuts through the air, sharp and urgent. Gareth's team. The distraction is working.

Good. That means Kael's attention is right where we want it, far from here.

We move another mile before the track disappears again. Draven raised a hand, and we froze, breathing hard while listening.

Then I feel it. Not a sound and not a scent, but a pull. Auren.

My breath catches, and I close my eyes, trying to find it again. It is not instinct. It is not logic. It is something deeper. A bond.

My son. He is close. Scared, but fighting. I can feel the pulse of his panic like a drumbeat in my chest.

I open my eyes and turn sharply east. "This way," I say.

We changed our direction off the ravine path and pushed into the denser forest. The trees here are older and thicker, and their roots look like veins across the forest floor. Vines pull at our limbs, branches hold unto our clothes, but nothing stops us.

Then suddenly. Light. It flashes through the trees like lightning, but there is no thunder. Just this sudden and blinding pulse that turns the whole forest white for half a second. Then again. Brighter.

The ground vibrates below our feet, a soft tremble like the earth itself is holding its breath.

I freezed. So does Draven. My heart lodges in my throat. "That is him," I whisper, with my voice sounding harsh. "That is Auren."

Draven looks at me, eyes wide, silver glowing faintly in the dark.

"What the hell was that?" one of the warriors behind us mutters, breathless.

Power, I want to say. My son's power.

Another flash splits the trees, and this time I feel it deep in my bones, a rush of raw and untrained energy, wild and unfocused but strong enough to scorch the sky.

He is not just panicking. He is fighting back.

But if he is using that much energy, then Kael knows what he has now. And that means we are almost out of time.

Draven turns toward me, with his eyes hard. "He is not far. Maybe half a mile."

I nodded once. "Move," I said, slipping into a full sprint, the team falling in behind us.

The forest blurred around me, the wind slicing against my cheeks. My heart was pounding so loudly that I could not hear anything else.

Auren, baby, hold on. We are coming. Another flash. But this time it was brighter and closer.

And then, a scream. Not mine. Not Draven's. But it was Auren's scream.

Small. Broken. I do not think I can run. Through branches, over roots, cutting through underbrush like my skin does not matter. My wolf is sounding in my head, trying to be free.

But I do not need her. Not yet. Because I can feel him. I can feel my son.

And I will burn this entire forest to the ground before I let him get taken again.

We break through the last line of trees, and that is when I see it.

A flash of light that was so bright to turned night into day, pointing from a clearing just ahead. Trees waved, air pulses outward in a wave of invisible force, and I know. That is Auren.

That is my baby. And Kael just made his second big mistake.

He did not count on how dangerous a frightened cub could be. 

Especially the ones born of wolves.

Nyra's POV

I pushed through the last tangle of brush, my lungs burning, and my heart was pounding like war drums. The forest seemed to close in around me as I ran, desperate and afraid. And then, I saw him. Auren.

Curled near the base of an old covered tree, his small form was not really visible through the shadows. He had pushed himself between the tree roots, trying to hide. He wrapped his arms tightly around his knee, his head was bent, and he was shaking so violently I thought he might shatter. 

My feet moved before my mind could catch up. "Auren!" I called out, my voice cracking. He did not look up, like he couldn't hear me at all.

I bent down to my knee beside him. My voice was shaking as I reached out. "Baby, it is me. It is Mama." I was scared to touch him, like he might break apart if I did.

He raised his head up, slowly like it hurt to move. The look in his eyes broke me.

Terror. Pure, filled with fear. His eyes, which were usually bright and full of questions, were wide and lost. His bottom lip trembled, and tears rolled down his dirty cheeks. There were scratches along his arms, dirt spread on his clothes, and dried blood on his temple where something had hurt him, but he was alive. And he was alone, without whoever took him.

"Mama..." he sobbed, his voice was cracked and not really audible. He threw himself into my arms, and I caught him like he was the only thing fixing me to the world.

"I am here," I whispered, rocking him against me, one hand on his head and one holding him close to my heart. "I have got you now." "You are safe." "I promise, you are safe." I was saying it for both of us, praying it was true.

Draven bent down low beside us, his eyes scanning the area, body tense. His hand stayed on his weapon. His voice was low but firm. He was alone. That light. Whatever he did, it must have scared them off. Or they are regrouping."

He turned to the others. "Fan out. Search for the length. No one leaves until we know it is clear. Stay in groups of two."

The warriors scattered like shadows, their figures vanishing between trees, with their weapons drawn. But I could not look away from Auren, could not think about anything but him.

He held me tightly, like he thought I might disappear, his tiny hands gripped in my jacket. He was holding on so hard his knuckles were white. His body was ice-cold and trembling, his cries broken and deep, like he was too tired to even be afraid anymore.

"I got you, baby," I whispered, rubbing my hand on his hair, feeling the twigs and dirt caught there. "You are okay now." "I am here." "Mama is here." I rocked him like when he was little and had bad dreams, but this was no dream.

He said something against my chest that was not audible, but I could not make it out, just syllables that were filled with panic and exhaustion. I held him tighter, rubbing my lips on his temple, breathing him in.

His scent was still there, under the blood, the dirt, the fear and his sweet familiar scent that calmed the storm in my chest just a little. Like the pine trees he loved to climb and the soap I used when I bathed him just days ago.

But something was wrong. He was too quiet and too still. The shaking had stopped. And then his body was not looking satisfying, getting heavier in my arms, his grip loosening. My heart stopped. "Auren?"

I pulled back just to look at him, holding him up as he slumped against me. His eyes were shut, his breathing deep and uneven. His lashes were still wet with tears, stuck together against his too-pale cheeks.

"Auren!" I shook him gently. I was already panicking. "Hey, hey, stay with me." "Look at me." I patted his face lightly. He did not respond, his head rolling a bit.

"He passed out," Draven said, his voice tight. He was already reaching for a pulse, pressing two fingers against Auren's neck. "It is steady. But weak. Too weak for a boy his age."

That did not help. I held unto my son tighter, my hands were shaking as I adjusted him in my arms, holding him like when he was a baby.

He was alive. But something was not right. He should not have collapsed like that.

Not unless whatever power he used took too much out of him. Or something else is happening, something I can't see or fight.

I looked down at his face. It was pale and stained with dirt, his lips looking slightly blue. I caught my breath.

"Hold on," I whispered, pressing my forehead on his own, feeling how cold his skin was. "Please baby, just hold on." "Don't you leave me now." "Not after I found you."

Draven placed a hand on my shoulder, grounding me, silent. I was grateful he didn't try to tell me it would be okay with empty words. The forest around us paused with quiet movement, our warriors were searching and watching.

But all I could hear was the echo of Auren's heartbeat and the thunder of fear in my own chest, like blood rushing too fast through my ears.

And for the first time since this nightmare started, since they took him from me... I was truly scared. Not the fear that kept me moving and searching. Fighting and fighting. This was deeper. The kind that freezes your blood and makes you feel like you are drowning on dry land.

I had found my son, but I could still lose him.

And that was a fear no warrior training had ever taught me to face.