Chapter 76: A Desperate Return
The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting a silver glow over the mountains as Charlie raced through the treacherous terrain, her paws digging into the dirt as she pushed herself faster. The night air was thin up here, the altitude making each breath sharper, but she didn’t dare slow down. The warriors from her brother’s pack ran alongside her, their massive forms blending with the shadows of the towering pines. They weren’t here to help her. They were here to make sure she *came back.* But she had no intention of returning.
The mountains loomed above them, jagged peaks cutting into the sky like the teeth of an ancient beast. The scent of damp earth and pine filled her nose as the cool wind whipped through her thick fur. Rocks shifted underfoot, loose gravel tumbling down steep slopes, but she barely noticed. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from exertion but from the storm of emotions swirling inside of her. *Excitement. Fear. Desperation. Dread.* Every step she took brought her closer to Liam and Luther—but what if she was already too late? What if she reached them only to find that the disease had already claimed one of her mates?
No! She wouldn’t allow it.
With a newfound burst of speed, she launched herself over a fallen tree, landing smoothly on the other side before barreling forward. The path became more familiar as the scent of her old territory teased her senses. She was getting close.
The mountain trail opened up into a *valley of abandoned houses*, remnants of a pack that once thrived but had long since been forgotten. *The buildings were empty husks, their wooden walls weathered and broken, their windows shattered like hollow eyes staring into nothing.* Some of the doors hung off their hinges, creaking eerily in the wind. Charlie’s fur bristled as she ran through the ghost town, the stillness unnatural, the silence suffocating. A broken sign dangled above what used to be the pack’s meeting hall, its lettering barely visible under years of decay. *This place had been abandoned for a reason.*
*And if she didn’t move faster, her pack could end up the same way.*
Shaking off the uneasy feeling, she pushed harder, her lungs burning with effort. Just ahead, past the darkened ruins, she could see the first signs of home. *The southern border.* Her chest clenched with emotion as she let out a *long, piercing howl,* her voice ringing out over the trees and across the land she had once called her own.
The response came almost instantly.
A deep, *thunderous howl* echoed back, filled with urgency, filled with *recognition.* Charlie’s breath hitched as she heard Liam. His voice was raw, a mixture of pain, relief, and *desperate longing.*
The sound of pounding paws filled the night, tearing through the underbrush as a massive figure broke through the trees. *Liam.* His black fur shimmered under the moonlight, his glowing golden eyes locking onto her the moment he came into view.
Before she could brace herself, his body slammed into hers, sending them both crashing into the earth. His massive weight pinned her down, but there was no pain, no aggression—only frantic *desperation.* His wet nose buried into her fur, inhaling deeply, searching for any wounds, any signs of harm. Warm, rough licks followed, his tongue moving over her fur with both tenderness and possession. She whimpered softly, letting him know she was okay, but it did nothing to ease his concern.
When he finally pulled back, his growl rumbled deep in his chest, his massive head snapping toward the warriors that had followed her. His fur bristled, his stance becoming defensive as he moved to place himself between her and the wolves from her brother’s pack. His possessiveness was clear.
The warriors didn’t back down. They lowered their heads, their own snarls filling the air, warning Liam that they wouldn’t be easily intimidated. The tension was *suffocating,* and for a brief moment, Charlie feared that a fight would break out right there in the clearing.
*Enough.*
She lifted her muzzle and snapped at Liam’s cheek in reprimand, a small nip to remind him that she was not some fragile thing to be fought over. He turned his attention back to her immediately, eyes softening as if he couldn’t believe she was real.
Before either of them could say—or growl—another word, more wolves emerged from the trees, surrounding them. Charlie recognized each of them, wolves from her pack. Wolves that she had grown up with. Their eyes were locked onto the newcomers, their bodies tense, their jaws parted in silent threats.
The warriors she had brought with her prowled in place, their untrusting eyes locked onto the wolves that surrounded them.
Charlie shifted back into human form, ignoring the way Liam immediately growled in warning as she stood there naked and defiant. She knew how possessive her mates were, but she didn’t care right now.
“They mean me no harm,” she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “But if you don’t take me to see Luther *this second,* you *will be.*”
Liam hesitated, his protective instincts warring with his desperation to obey her demand. But as soon as the words left her mouth, his body stiffened, his golden eyes darkening as his wolf receded slightly. Without another word, he turned, shifting in a blur of fur and muscle before bolting toward the packhouse.
Charlie ran after him, her heart pounding, her stomach twisting with dread.
The moment she reached the packhouse doors, she smelled it.
*The sickness.*
The same rancid, decaying scent that had clung to Lily. That had filled the air of the hospital rooms where the sick lay dying. That had haunted her nightmares.
Her body shook as she stumbled through the doorway, following the scent like a moth to a flame.
The room she was led to was one she knew well. The same room Lily had died in.
And there, lying motionless on the same bed, was Luther.
His normally tan skin was deathly pale, his lips cracked, his once-powerful body weak and trembling. Sweat coated his skin, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Dark veins crawled up his arms, the same telltale sign of the disease that had claimed so many others before him.
*Her mate. Her warrior. Her Luther.*
He was slipping away.
A sound ripped from her chest, raw and primal. A mournful, heart-wrenching howl that echoed through the halls of the packhouse, carrying her pain to every wolf in their territory.
Her legs gave out beneath her, her body collapsing onto the cold floor.
And then, she sobbed.
Tears poured down her face, her shoulders shaking as she pressed her forehead to the ground, feeling as if the world had just shattered around her.
No. Not him.
Not her mate.
Not Luther.
Not like this.
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