Chapter 3- Move Out
1179 Words
Silas POV
A month.
I have exactly one month to find my true mate before Sarah appears and begins infiltrating our pack. In my last life, her plan was flawless; she intended to seize control and use our strength to dominate the werewolf world through sheer force. Now, I have to stop her while simultaneously figuring out how the hell I am going to find my true mate within roughly thirty days.
If I don't, I fear I’ll be forced to live that nightmare all over again.
Nothing like making the impossible even harder, I think to myself.
In my previous life, I had been so desperate for the mate bond and for the pack to have their Luna that when Sarah showed up smelling of lilies and honey, I didn't question the pull I felt. I thought she was the one. I didn't realize until it was too late that it wasn't a soul-bond—it was a siren’s call, a magical tether crafted by dark covens to mimic the real thing.
To resist her this time, I need the real thing. I need the strength only a true Luna can provide; otherwise, my wolf and I will still be susceptible to her and that warlock’s whims. But the world is vast, and thirty days is nothing but a heartbeat in the life of a werewolf.
I pace the length of my study, my boots thudding against the heavy rug. "Where were you?" I whisper, clutching my chest. "Where were you while I was burning my kingdom to the ground for a ghost? Why couldn't I find you?"
I pull a map of the surrounding territories across the desk. In my old life, I had stayed within my borders, focused on reconstruction. I had been a stationary target—a sitting duck. This time, I cannot afford to wait for fate to knock on my door.
"Link!" I roar.
The door swings open instantly. My Beta looks winded, likely having just started the new patrol orders I’d barked at him minutes ago. "Alpha? What now?"
"Clear my schedule for the next two weeks. I’m taking a small unit—three scouts, no more. We’re going to head into the town." After all, that is most likely where my mate is.
Link’s jaw drops. "The town? Why? You are needed here, Alpha. You need to run this pack. What could possibly be out there?"
"Something I lost," I said, my voice tight. "Or rather, something I haven't found yet."
I knew the legends. The Moon Goddess rarely gave a second chance without a catch. If she had sent me back, it wasn't just to be a soldier—it was to bring about change to stop something happening that never should have. In this case, it would be Sarah and James successfully gaining a foothold to power.
Somewhere out there, a woman is waking up, unaware that her Alpha is currently a man haunted by a future that hasn't happened yet.
"If I'm not back in twenty-five days," I say, looking Link dead in the eye, "lock down the borders. If a woman named Sarah arrives seeking asylum, put her in the silver cells. Do not let her speak. Do not let her look at you. Just wait for me."
Link looks like he wanted to argue, to call for the pack doctor to check my head, but the sheer gravity in my expression silences him. "I'll have your car and cases ready by dawn," he mutters.
As he leaves, I look back at the map. My finger traces a path toward the mountains. I don't have a scent. I didn't have a name. All I had was a deadline and a hole in my soul that is screaming to be filled. I have thirty days to find a needle in a haystack—before the haystack was set on fire.
I spend the rest of the day planning the next day, where I will search first and try to work out the best scenarios within which to make contact with any potential true mates I come across.
Sleep does not come that night. Every time I close my eyes, I see the pack that I had brought back from the brink crumbling. I hear the screams of my people and feel the cold, oily sensation of Sarah’s mate bond twisting my common sense into knots.
By 4:00 AM, I am in the garage. The air is biting, a frost clinging to the walls that signals the coming winter. My wolf, Fenrir, is pacing behind my ribs, his claws metaphorically digging into my lungs.
“She is not there,” he growls, his voice a low vibration in my mind. “The False One. I smell the wrongness even in the memory of her.” Fenrir refuses to say Sarah's name; the hurt and anger from our previous life feels more raw coming from him.
I know, Fenrir, I answer, balling my hand into a tight fist by my side. But if we don't find the right one, the False Ones' pull might be too strong to fight against. That warlock’s magic was woven into our very instinct.
Fenrir lets out a sound that was half-snarl, half-whimper. “We find the Moon-Gift. We find the True Luna. Or we die in the snow this time.”
The two scouts I have chosen—Eli and Jax—arrive in silence. They are young, fast, and loyal to a fault. They didn't ask why their Alpha is dragging them into rogue territory under the cover of darkness. They just enter their cars and wait for the command.
"We search hard," I tell them through the mind link. "We don't stop for anything less than a broken limb. We are looking for a scent, a feeling, a sign. You’ll know it when you feel it. Your wolves will react to her power even before I do."
"Alpha," Eli ventures, his brow furrowed. "Who exactly are we looking for?"
I look toward the eastern horizon, where the first grey light of dawn was beginning to bleed through the trees.
"The rest of my soul, Eli," I say, looking out of the window at the passing scenery. "And we have twenty-nine days left to find her."
As we clear the pack boundaries and hit the open trail, a strange sensation washes over me. For the first time since I woke up in this past life, the crushing weight of the what-ifs shifts. The wind does not feel like a countdown anymore; it instead feels like a lead.
Somewhere within the town, potentially, is my mate. A faint pulse throbs in the back of my mind. It is distant—so distant it might have been an illusion—but it doesn't smell like lilies and honey.
It smells like a coming storm and fresh rain.
“There, mate, is in the village. I can feel her.” Fenris barks, suddenly alert. “Run, Silas. Run before the sun sets on us again.”
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