Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted (Ava and Lucas)

Chapter 426: Lucas: Pack or Mate

LUCAS

All of us stand in what must be Jericho's room. His scent is heavy in the air, and a wheelchair sits on its side, tossed into a corner.

It's an unnerving sight that begs the question—is he still alive? Even if he ran, how far could he get without a wheelchair? And if he's taken captive, how badly is he being treated as an invalid?

Aurum snarls, his rage echoing through my skull. The sight of that wheelchair burns into my eyes and soul. A stark reminder of Jericho's new vulnerability—and my failure to protect him.

Vester is the first to break from the ominous sight, his voice clear through the pack bond. What is our next move?

The watch is still dead. No signal from Wolf's Landing, no word from Ava or Kellan. The silence is filled with too many scenarios I've played out in my head.

But the mate bond pulses steady in my chest. Ava's alive. They all are—every mated pair in our group can feel their other half. It's the only comfort we have right now.

"We follow Jericho's trail. Kellan and Ava know the evacuation protocols. They'll keep our people safe if anything happens."

They have to.

The words I don't say hang heavy in the air. Every alpha faces this choice—pack or mate. The needs of many versus the call of your heart. Right now, my chest aches, but my alpha bond is yanking me forward.

There are times I can let the world burn to choose my mate, but this is not one of them.

She's strong, Aurum reminds me. He, too, feels the pull to our pack. To those taken from us, dead and alive.

I know.

The familiar weight of command settles over my shoulders as I shift to resume the hunt, leaving that damned wheelchair behind. It doesn't make the ache in my chest any less, but the explosion of scent at least keeps my mind busy as I trot behind my scouts, aggression pulsing through my veins.

When we find these damn bloodsuckers, I'm tearing out every one of their throats. Every vamp will burn on pyres stacked to the sky.

casting this dark magic on our dead—them, I'll rip apart limb by

the pack link, and I can sense

confrontation. We've spent too long hiding from

you know how to read it. Fresh powder covers most tracks, but beneath that pristine layer, chaos reigns. My nose brushes

of prints. At least seven distinct patterns, but possibly

most. A little heavier, the stride inconsistent.

one injured wolf and whoever was carrying him.

run for their lives. We might not be able to differentiate the different supernatural scents saturating the trail, but the tracks have

my concentration

much, but enough to confirm violence. The scent is days old, muddled with vampire stench and something else. It smells like mushrooms and tree rot and summer.

command.

marks in the snow indicate a struggle. Jericho didn't go quietly—wheelchair or not. Pride mingles with fury in my chest. He

scouts has already found

marks mean Jericho was incapacitated. Alive,

And signs of magic use. No idea what

is melted in a perfect circle, as if hit by intense heat. But we already knew the vampires

separate the scents. Vampire. Wolf. Blood. And underneath it all, that itchy-smelling magic my scouts have already

could probably glean some information from that. Unfortunately, she's back at Wolf's

least, I sure as

trail heads out for any distance,

yard. Seven sets of prints become five, then three. They're covering their trail—professionals, not random attackers. And they're no longer hunting. They

were searching his hideout;

but they give us all something to bounce around in our heads as we

is too easy, Vester's voice echoes in my head. Like they

trail. His suspicion isn't unwarranted; I've been feeling a

rogue wolves? And yet, aside from a brief glimpse of some corpses