Page 34 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“I know.” My voice roughens. “But beating ourselves up won’t help now. We’ve got a man down, and if Kellan can talk, he might give us something that points to what we’re dealing with.”
Kolt exhales, steadying himself. “You think he saw it?”
“Maybe.” I straighten, brushing dirt from my hands. “We need to get to the clinic and see what we can find out. If Kellan’s still conscious, I want every detail he remembers before shock sets in.”
“On it,” Xander says, already turning toward the trail. Kolt falls in beside him, his jaw tight, shoulders squared. The three of us move fast, the unspoken rhythm of brothers and pack filling the silence between us.
I kneel beside the cot. “Kellan.”
His eyes flicker open. “Alpha…”
“I’m here. Tell me what happened.”
His voice trembles. “Patrol by the river. Smelled something dead. Thought it was a bear, then it stood up.” His fingers twitch against the blanket. “Eyes glowed green. Moved like smoke. It… it laughed.”
Kolt curses under his breath. Xander’s jaw clenches.
I glance at Kellen. “He going to make it?”
“He’ll live,” Kellen says. “Barely.”
I press my hand to Kellan’s arm. “Rest. You did good.”
Then I stand, letting the weight of Alpha settle into me again. I open the link, sending my command across the territory.
All patrols hold position. No one moves alone. Whatever this thing is, it’s on our land now. And we find out why.
Dozens of minds answer back at once, their unity pulsing like a heartbeat through the magic.
***
Snarl is closed when the three of us step inside.
Midday sun filters through the blinds, cutting bands of gold across the bar top. The place smells like smoke, pine oil, and whiskey. It’s quiet, too quiet for us.
Xander moves behind the counter, grabs a bottle, and pours three glasses without asking. “We probably shouldn’t drink before sundown,” he mutters, sliding me one.
Kolt gives a short, humorless laugh. “We probably shouldn’t have one of ours bleeding out on the border either, but here we are.”
I take the drink. The burn sits heavy in my chest. “Talk.”
Kolt’s the first to break the silence. “Declan.”
Xander exhales, his shoulders slumping like the weight of the name has been pressing there all day. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.”
I swirl the whiskey, watching the light bend through it. “You sure?”
“No,” Kolt admits. “But the energy felt the same. That twisted, rotted magic, we felt it when we found him.”
My jaw tightens. “You never told me it was that strong.”
Kolt’s gaze meets mine, guilt flickering behind his eyes. “We wanted to be sure. But he’s not the same, Nolan. Whatever’s inside him, it’s dark. Angry. Feels like something hollow wearing his skin.”
Xander leans on the bar. “We almost had him. He looked at us, knew us, and then he was gone. Just slipped through our hands like smoke. We came back to regroup, and now this happens. Same scent. Same magic.”
The silence that follows is thick, heavy. The only sound is the faint hum of the fridge and Kolt’s glass tapping against the wood.
“He wouldn’t hurt one of ours,” I say quietly.
