CECELIAS POV

The photograph sat on Zeke's desk between us like a live grenade. Golden's tear-streaked face stared up at me, and each time I looked at it, something twisted violently in my chest. My baby. Someone had my baby in a concrete room and was making him cry.

"We're reviewing security footage from every entrance," Zeke said, his voice clipped and professional. He'd switched into full Alpha mode the moment he saw the photo,

barking orders through his phone, summoning guards and trackers."Whoever delivered this will be identified within the hour."

I couldn't take my eyes off Golden's face. "He looks so scared."

"We'll find him, Cecelia."

"You keep saying that." My voice came out sharper than I intended. "But we're no closer than we were yesterday. Someone walked right up to my door in your palace and left a threat, and you didn't even know they were here."

Zeke's jaw tightened but he didn't argue. He couldn't. The breach was inexcusable and we both knew it.

A knock interrupted us. Healer Margaret entered without waiting for permission, her expression grave. She carried a folder thick with papers.

"Alpha, I have the results from Miss Mayers' examination."

"And?" Zeke's tone left no room for delay.

Margaret opened the folder, though I suspected she'd already memorized every detail. "The blood work confirms that Miss Mayers

gave birth approximately three years and four months ago.The genetic markers match those we have on file from her previous medical records when she was Luna here."

"So Golden is definitely mine," Zeke said.

"Biologically, yes. The child would share fifty percent of his genetic material with you based on Miss Mayers' DNA." Margaret hesitated. "There's something else, Alpha. During the examination, I found evidence of significant trauma to Miss Mayers' body. Old injuries that never healed correctly."

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.I didn't want to talk about this, didn't want Zeke to know how broken I'd been after the fall.

"What kind of injuries?" Zeke asked, his eyes moving to me.

"Fractured ribs that set improperly. Damage to her left lung that suggests she aspirated a significant amount of water. Scarring consistent with near drowning." Margaret's voice gentled. "Miss Mayers, these injuries should have been treated immediately after they occurred.The fact that they weren't has caused permanent damage."

"I was unconscious for three months," I said flatly. "By the time I woke up, everything had already healed wrong."

Zeke stood abruptly, turning to face the window. His shoulders were rigid. "Can anything be done now?"

"Some of the damage can be corrected with surgery," Margaret said. "The ribs can be rebroken and reset. Physical therapy might improve her lung capacity. But she'll always have limitations she didn't have before."

"I'm fine," I insisted. "I've managed for three years. I can keep managing."

"You shouldn't have to just manage," Margaret said firmly. "These injuries cause you pain, don't they? Difficulty breathing when you exert yourself?"

I didn't answer. The truth was yes, my ribs ached when the weather changed and sometimes I couldn't take a full breath without feeling like something was pressing against my chest. But I'd learned to live with it. You learned to live with a lot of things when you had no other choice

"We'll schedule the surgery after we find Golden," Zeke said, still facing the window. "For now, Margaret, I need you to document everything. Every injury, every medical issue. I want a complete record."

"Of course, Alpha." Margaret closed her folder. "Miss Mayers, if you experience any acute pain or difficulty breathing, you're to notify me immediately. Is that understood?""Yes."

After Margaret left, the silence in the office felt suffocating. Zeke remained at the window, his back to me. I could see his reflection in the glass, his expression harder than stone.

"You nearly died," he said finally.

"But I didn't."

"You could have." He turned to face me. "You were pregnant and alone with injuries that should have killed you. You spent three months in a coma with no one but a stranger to care for you.""Fatima isn't a stranger anymore.She saved my life."

"She shouldn't have had to." Zeke moved closer, and I saw something raw in his eyes that I couldn't name. "You should have been here. Safe. With proper medical care and pack protection."

"I was here," I reminded him. "That's how I ended up with those injuries in the first place."

The words hit their mark. Zeke flinched like I'd struck him. Good. He needed to remember that his palace hadn't been safe for me. His pack hadn't protected me. His sister in law had pushed me off a cliff and he'd been too busy with Layla to notice anything was wrong.

"I know," he said quietly. "I know this is my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." He sat back down at his desk, suddenly looking exhausted. "If I'd been paying attention, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own guilt and grief over choosing you instead of Layla, I would have seen the danger. I would have protected

you."

"You can't rewrite the past, Zeke."

"No. But I can make sure nothing like that happens again." His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. "The trackers are ready to give their report from Seacreek. They're waiting in the conference room."

I stood immediately. "Let's go."

The conference room was filled with wolves I didn't recognize, all wearing the Brooke Pack insignia. They stood when Zeke entered, their eyes sliding to me with barely concealed curiosity. The dead Luna,

back from the grave. I wondered how long it would take before the novelty wore off.

Ryder, the head tracker, stepped forward. "Alpha. Miss Mayers." He nodded to each of us in turn. "We've completed our search of Seacreek territory."

"What did you find?" I asked before Zeke could.

Ryder pulled out a tablet, pulling up a map covered in colored markers. "The boy's scent trail starts here at the preschool. It leads through the main street, past the market, and into the residential area." His finger traced the path. "Then it stops here, at the edge of the forest border."

"Stops?" Zeke leaned forward. "You mean it fades?"

"No, Alpha. It stops completely. As if he vanished into thin air." Ryder swiped to another screen showing chemical analysis. "We found traces of wolfsbane and mountain ash at the location where the scent ends. Someone used scent blocking herbs to mask the trail."

My stomach dropped. Whoever took Golden knew what they were doing. This wasn't some opportunistic kidnapping. It was planned, executed with precision.

CECELIAS POV

"Vehicle tracks?" Zeke asked.

"None that we could find. The ground there is mostly rock and dirt, hard to leave impressions." Ryder looked apologetic. "But we did interview witnesses. Three separate pack members reported seeing a dark vehicle, possibly an SUV, parked near the preschool that afternoon."

"Same vehicle the teacher mentioned," I said."Yes. We're pulling traffic footage from the main roads leading out of Seacreek, but it's going to take time. Most of their cameras are outdated."

Zeke nodded slowly, processing the information. "What about the preschool staff? Any of them behave suspiciously?"

"We questioned all of them. Everyone's alibis check out." Ryder hesitated. "But there is something odd. One of the teachers mentioned that a woman had been asking questions about Golden a few weeks ago."

My head snapped up. "What kind of questions?"

"General things. Who his mother was, where they lived, if the father was in the picture." Ryder consulted his notes. "The teacher thought it was strange but not alarming. She assumed it was just another pack member being nosy."

"Description of the woman?" Zeke's voice had gone cold.

"Mid thirties, dark hair, average height. The teacher said she seemed professional, well dressed. She claimed to be doing

a survey for the pack school system."

I exchanged a glance with Zeke.Seacreek didn't have a pack

school system.

It was too small. Everyone knew everyone.

"The teacher realize it was suspicious afterward?" I asked.

"Not until we started asking questions." Ryder looked grim. "By then it was too late."

Zeke dismissed the trackers with orders to continue investigating. When we were alone again, he pulled out his phone and made another call.

I'm sending you a description.

I want facial recognition run against every wolf in our database and neighboring packs." He paused, listening. "Yes, I know it's a long shot. Do it anyway."

He ended the call and looked at me. "We should get you back to your quarters. It's late."

I glanced at the window, surprised to see it was fully dark outside. Hours had passed in meetings and reports and I hadn't even noticed. Time felt strange when your child was missing, both too fast and unbearably slow.

Zeke walked with me through the quiet hallways. Most of the palace had gone to sleep. Our footsteps echoed against marble floors.

"Thank you," I said softly. "For taking this seriously. For using your resources."

"He's my son, Cecelia. Of course I'm taking it seriously."

We reached my door. I fumbled for the key but Zeke's hand on my arm stopped me.

"Wait." He stepped in front of me, checking the door frame, the lock, the space under the door. "Let me make sure it's safe first."

The caution should have reassured me. Instead, it made my skin crawl. I'd spent three years in Seacreek feeling safe, feeling like I could breathe. Now I was back to checking over my shoulder, afraid of threats in the dark.

Zeke opened the door and checked inside before nodding. "Clear."

I entered and he followed, which surprised me. He stood in the middle of my temporary quarters looking out of place among the soft blues and gentle colors. Everything

about Zeke was hard angles and sharp edges. He didn't fit in spaces designed for comfort.

"Tell me about Seacreek," he said suddenly. "What was your life like there?"

The question caught me off guard. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I don't know anything about the last three years of your life." He moved to the window, that same restless energy I remembered. "You vanished. I thought you were dead. And then you show up with a child I never

knew existed. I need to understand what happened. Where you've been."

I sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion pulling at my bones. "What do you want me to say? That it was hard? That I struggled? It was. I did."

"How did you survive?" The question came out rough. "Three months in a coma, then waking up pregnant and alone in a strange pack. How did you manage?"

"Fatima helped me." I picked at a loose thread on the bedspread.

"She took me in when she found me on the beach. She nursed me back to health. When I woke up with no memory, she didn't push. She just let me heal at my own pace."

"And when your memory came back?"

"I remembered everything. The rejection. Layla. The cliff." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I remembered that you chose her over me. That you never loved me. That our entire marriage was based on duty and political necessity."

Zeke's jaw worked. "Cecelia-"

"I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm just explaining why I didn't come back. Why would I? You'd made it clear I was expendable. Layla had tried to kill me. There was nothing for me here."

"There was me," he said quietly.

I laughed but there was no humor in it. "You rejected me, Zeke. You stood in your office and told me you wanted to be free to marry my sister. Why would I come crawling back to that?"

"Because I made a mistake." He moved closer, his voice urgent. "Everything that happened, everything I said to you that day, it was the worst mistake of my life."

"Don't." I stood up, needing distance. "Don't do this now. Not when Golden is missing. Not when I'm too tired and scared to think straight."

"Then when?" His frustration leaked through. "When are we going to talk about what happened between us?"

"Maybe never," I shot back. "Maybe some things are better left in the past where they belong."

"Is that what you want? To pretend the last three years erased everything?"

"The last three years changed everything." My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "I'm not the girl you married, Zeke. That Cecelia died on those cliffs. The woman standing here now, she doesn't need you anymore. She doesn't need anyone."

Something flickered across his face. Pain, maybe. Or regret. "You needed me enough to come back."

"I needed your resources. Your trackers and your connections and your money. That's not the same as needing you."

The words were cruel and I knew it. I wanted them to be cruel. I wanted him to hurt the way I'd hurt when he told me he loved Layla, when he said our bond meant nothing, when he made me feel worthless and small.

But Zeke didn't flinch. He just watched me with those unreadable eyes. "Tell me about Golden," he said, changing tactics. "What's he like?"

The question defused my anger instantly. Talking about Golden always did that, softened the sharp edges inside me. "He's perfect. Smart and funny and so full of energy. He never stops moving, never stops asking questions."

"Does he look like me?"

"You've seen the photo. You know he does." I pulled out my phone, showing him more pictures. Golden at the beach, covered in sand. Golden helping Fatima with her nets. Golden's first day of preschool, his little backpack almost as big as he was. "Everyone in Seacreek always commented on his eyes. They'd never seen that color before.

Zeke studied each photo intently, his expression hungry. "I missed all of this.

"Yes."

"I missed his birth. His first word. His first steps." His voice went rough. "I missed three years of my son's life because I was too stupid and blind to see what I had when I had it."

I wanted to agree, to pile on more guilt, but something in his voice stopped me. He sounded destroyed. Absolutely wrecked by what he'd lost.

"You can't get that time back," I said softly. "None of us can. All we can do is move forward."

"Is there a chance?" He looked at me directly. "When this is over, when we find Golden and bring him home safe, is there any chance for us? For our family?"

The question hung in the air between us. I wanted to say no immediately, to shut down any hope before it could take root. But the words wouldn't come. Because part

of me, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be held by him, to fall asleep next to him, to believe we could be happy together, that part wanted to say yes.

"I don't know," I admitted. "I honestly don't know, Zeke."

He nodded like he'd expected that answer. "Fair enough." He moved toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll start going through anyone who might have known about Golden."

"Wait." The word escaped before I could stop it. "That portrait in the hallway. The one of you and Layla and

Cameron."

His shoulders tensed. "What about it?"

"You look like a family." I hated how small my voice sounded. "A real family. Happy."

Zeke turned to face me fully. "That portrait was commissioned by the pack council two years ago. They wanted something official for the main hall. Something that showed stability and continuity after your death."

"So it was just for show?"

"Everything with Layla was for show." His expression hardened. "We were never together, Cecelia. Not the way that portrait suggests.

Not the way you're imagining."

"But she lives here. She has Cameron. She acts like the Luna in everything but name."

"Because the pack needed a female presence and she was the only option." He ran his hand through his hair in

frustration. "After you died, after she lost the baby, Layla spiraled. She blamed herself for your death even though I

never knew why. She became obsessed with Cameron, with being the perfect mother, the perfect pack member."

"And you just let her stay here?"

"Where else would she go?" His voice rose slightly. "She

was my dead mate's sister. The pack accepted her because they thought it honored your memory. How could I throw her out without looking like a monster?"

I absorbed this information slowly. "So you never loved her? Even after I was gone?"

"I thought I loved her once, a long time ago. Before the war, before our fathers tore our packs apart." He moved closer again. "But whatever I felt for her died the day I marked you. The day I made you mine and then treated you like you

meant nothing."

"I did mean nothing to you."

"You meant everything to me." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "That was the problem. I married you thinking I could keep my heart locked away, that I could do

my duty without getting attached. But every day with you made it harder to maintain that distance. Every smile, every laugh, every moment you tried to make our marriage work despite knowing

I didn't love you, it broke down my walls."

"Then why did you push me away?" Tears burned my eyes. "Why did you choose her?"

"Because I'm a coward."

The admission came out flat, emotionless. "Because loving you meant admitting I'd been wrong about everything. Wrong about Layla, wrong about duty over emotion, wrong about who I was supposed to be."

He shook his head. "By the time I realized what I'd thrown away, you were gone. Dead. And I had to live with

knowing my cowardice killed you."

"Layla killed me. Or tried to."

"I gave her the opportunity." His eyes met mine, and I saw genuine anguish there. "If I'd been a better mate, a better husband, she never would have felt threatened enough to push you off that cliff. Your blood is on my hands as much as

hers."

I didn't know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him he was being dramatic. But another part recognized the truth in his words. If Zeke had chosen me,

truly chosen me, maybe Layla never would have acted.

"We can't change the past," I said finally.

"No. But I can spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make up for it." He moved to the door again. "Get some rest, Cecelia. We have a long day tomorrow."

After he left, I changed into my sleeping clothes and crawled into bed. The sheets smelled like lavender and something else, something that reminded me of the palace as it used to be. Before

everything went wrong.

Sleep didn't come easy. Every time I closed my eyes,

I saw Golden's face in that photograph. His tears. His fear. My baby needed me and I was lying in a comfortable bed in a palace while he suffered somewhere.

I must have eventually drifted off because I woke to early morning light streaming through the window. My phone showed three missed calls from Fatima. I called her back

immediately.

"Cecelia, thank the goddess."

Fatima sounded relieved. "I've been trying to reach you for hours."

"I'm sorry, I was asleep. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong exactly, but I remembered something. That woman who was asking questions about Golden a few

weeks ago? I saw her."

I sat up straight. "You saw her? When? Where?"

"She came to my house about a month ago claiming to be doing a census for the pack. She asked about everyone living with me,

including you and Golden." Fatima's voice went tight. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. We get pack officials through sometimes doing surveys. But now that the trackers

mentioned it, I remember. She was very interested in Golden specifically. Asked his age, whether his father was involved,

where he went to school."

"What did you tell her?"

"Just the basics. That you lived with me, that Golden was three, that he attended the local preschool." Fatima paused.

"Cecelia, I'm so sorry. If I'd known-"

"It's not your fault," I interrupted. "You couldn't have known what she was planning. Did you tell the trackers this?"

"Yes, I called them as soon as I remembered. They're coming back to take a full statement."

I thanked Fatima and ended the call, my mind racing. This woman had been gathering information about Golden for at

least a month. This wasn't a random kidnapping. Someone had been watching us, planning this, waiting for the right moment.

I dressed quickly and went to find Zeke. His office door was open, which surprised me. He sat at his desk surrounded by files and his laptop, looking like he hadn't slept at all.

"Fatima called," I said without preamble. "She saw the woman too. The one asking questions about Golden."

Zeke looked up sharply. "When?"

"About a month ago. The woman came to her house

claiming to do a pack census." I moved closer to his desk. "Zeke, this was planned.

Whoever took Golden has been watching us for weeks, maybe longer."

"I know." He turned his laptop to face me. The screen showed a grainy traffic camera image of a dark SUV. "This vehicle was caught on camera leaving Seacreek the

afternoon Golden disappeared. We're working on enhancing

the image to get a license plate, but the angle is bad."

I studied the image. The SUV looked expensive, the kind that wealthy pack members or Alpha families drove. "Do you recognize

it?"

"Not yet. But we will." He closed the laptop. "I need you to

make a list for me."

"A list of what?"

"Everyone who knew you were alive. Everyone in Seacreek who knew about Golden, who knew he was my son." His expression was grim. "We need to consider that someone

from your new life betrayed you."

The words hit me like cold water. "No. The people in Seacreek, they wouldn't-"

"Someone gave information to that woman." Zeke's voice was firm but not unkind. "Someone told her where to find you, where Golden went to school, enough details to plan

this kidnapping. We need to figure out who."

I sank into the chair across from his desk. The list would be

short. Fatima obviously. Her children, though they were too young to understand what they might have overheard. A few neighbors who'd become friends. The preschool staff. My boss at the market where I worked part time.

"It could have been innocent," I said weakly. "Someone mentioning Golden in passing, not realizing-"

"Maybe." Zeke pulled out a notepad. "But we need to investigate everyone. Anyone who might want to hurt you through Golden. Anyone who might have a grudge against

you or against me."

"Against you? Why would someone with a grudge against

you target Golden?"

"Because he's my son. Because hurting him hurts me." Zeke's jaw was tight. "I've made enemies over

the years, Cecelia. Other Alphas who disagreed with my decisions. Wolves I've exiled or punished. It's possible someone found out about Golden and saw an opportunity for

revenge.

The thought made me sick. My baby caught up in pack politics and old grudges that had nothing to do with him. He was innocent. He was just a little boy who liked playing in the sand and helping Fatima with her fishing nets and asking

endless questions about everything.

"Start with Seacreek," Zeke said, pushing the notepad toward me. "Write down every name you can think of. We'll

go through them one by one."

I picked up the pen with shaking hands and began to write. Fatima's name went first, though I knew in my bones she had nothing to do with this. Then her children. Then the neighbors, my coworkers, the preschool staff. The list grew longer than I expected, and with each name my heart grew

heavier.

One of these people had betrayed me. One of them had given information that led to my son being taken. The thought was

unbearable.