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.

dark magic on our dead—them, I'll

rings out sharply in the pack link, and I can sense bloodthirst rising in all

a confrontation. We've

beneath that pristine layer, chaos reigns. My nose brushes the ground as I follow the faintest traces, piecing

sets of prints. At least seven distinct patterns,

that catches my attention the most. A little heavier, the stride inconsistent. Perhaps someone carrying Jericho; I

against one injured wolf

for their lives. We might not be able

voice cuts through my concentration

crimson stains the snow. Not much, but enough to confirm violence. The scent is days

I command.

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

of the scouts has already

hackles rising. Drag marks mean Jericho was incapacitated. Alive, but

reports. And signs of magic use. No idea what kind, but it has that itchy smell that Luna gets

as if hit by intense heat.

the ground again, trying to separate the scents. Vampire. Wolf. Blood. And underneath it all, that itchy-smelling magic

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

as

trail heads out for

prints become five, then three. They're covering their trail—professionals, not random attackers. And they're

Or maybe his friend. Or—neither of them. They were searching his hideout; perhaps they

all something to bounce around

echoes in my head. Like they wanted us

covered their tracks, and yet still left a clear trail. His suspicion isn't unwarranted; I've

into rogue wolves? And yet, aside from a