Chapter 36: The Hunt for His Heart
The scent of pine lingered heavy in the air as Rowan charged through the forest, his wolf’s claws slicing through the underbrush like blades. The moonlight filtered through the dense canopy, casting silvery streaks across the damp forest floor. Each paw-fall echoed with the rhythm of desperation, of fury, of longing.
The forest was alive with silence—too alive. Every rustle of leaves, every creak of bark, put Rowan’s nerves on edge. His wolf prowled just beneath his skin, impatient, snarling, begging to be let loose again.
The night air was cold, biting at his bare chest as he shifted into his human form beside the cliff’s edge, scanning the dark woods below. His breaths came in uneven gasps, the weight of failure pressing on him like a boulder.
“Damn it,” he muttered. “Where are you, Giselle?”
‘We’re close, I can feel her,’ his wolf snarled, wild with rage and pain.
‘She’s out there,’ Rowan responded through their shared link, his voice guttural in his mind. ‘We will find her. We have to.’
His muscles screamed with each bound, but he pushed harder, faster, propelled by the memory of her scent disappearing into the trees, the image of her in the arms of that rogue bastard burned into his mind. He would never forget the way she looked back over her shoulder, silent pleas for help in her eyes. That memory alone could turn entire forests to ash beneath his fury.
He was just about to call the others when a voice broke through the pack link, sharp and alert.
‘Beta Kalen to Alpha. I found something.’
The words hit Rowan like a lightning strike. ‘Where?’ he snapped, already moving.
‘North ridge—past the old watchtower. I’m marking the spot with a flare. You’ll see it.’
Rowan didn’t wait to respond. His feet pounded against the earth as he shifted mid-run, fur exploding through his skin in a rush of pain and power. His wolf burst forward, limbs a blur beneath him, weaving through the trees like a shadow.
The old watchtower was nearly a mile away, but he didn’t slow. Tree limbs scraped his fur, rocks cut at his paws, but none of it mattered. The only thing that did was her. That scent he could barely catch anymore. That warmth he hadn’t felt since she was taken.
And then—there it was.
A bright red flare, burning just beneath the edge of the ridge.
He pushed harder.
‘Kalen’, Rowan growled into the link. ‘What is it?’
‘You’ll want to see it for yourself,’ came the Beta’s grim reply.
Rowan didn’t need more than that. He cleared the last hill in a single bound, landing on the ridge with a snarl caught in his throat—bracing for whatever came next.
Then came the sound. Paws. Multiple sets—rushing up behind him, closing fast.
Rowan whirled around mid-stride, his wolf baring its teeth with a warning growl, only to relax slightly when familiar scents hit his nose.
Pack. His pack.
‘Alpha,’ came one of his warriors voices through the pack link, steady and full of quiet strength. ‘You didn’t think we’d let you go alone, did you?’
Rowan slowed just enough to let them draw even. Four wolves—Noah, Jorah, Anden, and Cass—ran beside him now, their loyalty radiating like armor as they made their way to the spot that Kalen marked with a flare.
‘This isn’t your fight,’ Rowan growled. ‘The Elders won’t approve of your continued involvement.’
‘We don’t serve the Elders,’ Jorah said firmly. ‘We serve you. We serve our Luna.’
‘We saw how she fought for us,’ Cass added. ‘You might be our Alpha, but she proved she’d die for this pack. That makes her one of us.’
A low rumble echoed through Rowan’s chest. Pride. Gratitude. And love.
‘Then let’s see what Kalen has found.’
They fanned out as they made their way to Kalen. Silent but synchronized, their formation honed through years of battle. Rowan took the lead, his nose close to the earth, searching for even the faintest whisper of her scent.
It was when he reached Kalens side that he caught it. It was faint, but it was there—a trace of pine, and something distinctly her. His wolf whined, tail lashing as they zeroed in.
Then came something new: blood. Not just any blood. Giselle’s. Faint, but recent.
Rowan’s stomach twisted, his wolf howling in his head.
‘She’s bleeding. She’s close.’
‘I wanted to wait for you before following the trail,’ Kalen’s voice in Rowan’s ear.
Rowan didn’t respond with words, just the nod of his head in the direction the scent was coming from. The warriors closed in tighter around him, their pace urgent. They leapt over fallen logs, scrambled up a steep incline, and finally reached a cliff’s edge where the scent suddenly vanished.
Rowan shifted back to human form in a fluid motion, gasping for breath as the others followed.
“I don’t understand,” he muttered, pacing at the cliff. “It ends here.”
“There’s no drag marks,” Anden said, sniffing near the ledge. “She wasn’t thrown over.”
“They must have a witch with them,” Kalen said grimly, crouching beside Rowan. “The scent of magic is strong in the air.”
Rowan clenched his fists. “People don’t just disappear out of thin air.” He let out a frustrated growl. “Malric’s involved somehow, I know it.”
His packmates remained silent. None dared agree, but none disagreed either. The distrust for the Elder Council had been festering, and Giselle’s disappearance had torn the wound wide open.
Kalen straightened. “What do we do?”
Rowan looked up at the stars, at the glowing moon that should’ve marked the beginning of a future with his mate.
“We find every contact those rogues ever had. We interrogate anyone who’s ever smelled like the border. We tear this forest apart until we get a lead.”
He looked at his warriors, jaw clenched, eyes burning with conviction.
“We bring her home.”
The wolves around him bowed their heads. One by one, they shifted back, howling into the cold night.
Their Luna was out there.
And they wouldn’t stop until she was back where she belonged.
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