I’m coming, hold on
1295 Words
CASPIAN
I stand in Farah’s room, and for the first time in years, my lungs forget how to function.
The air is wrong. Too empty. Too still. Her scent lingers—fear, salt, the faint warmth of her skin—but it’s already fading, pulled apart by the cold night wind rushing through the gaping hole where the window used to be. The stone around the frame is cracked and torn, the iron bars gone completely, not bent or ripped out in panic, but removed with care.
Taken.
My wolf slams against my ribs, howling, raging, pacing in tight circles inside my skull. It wants blood. It wants to hunt. It wants her back now. There is something else mixed in with the fury, something sharp and terrifying that I refuse to name, because Alphas do not panic, and I am still Alpha.
They took her. From my house. From under my protection.
I step closer to the window, my hands curling slowly into fists. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This wasn’t chaos. This wasn’t desperation. This was a clean extraction, planned down to the smallest detail. The timing. The distraction at the north gate. The guards neutralized without a sound.
They walked into my den and walked out again.
Behind me, boots pound against stone. Marcus and Soren enter the room, both of them taking in the damage in silence. Marcus’s jaw tightens. Soren swears under his breath.
“The guards were drugged,” Soren says finally, his voice controlled but hard. “Some kind of sedative mixed into their evening meal. Strong enough to drop wolves twice their size. They never stood a chance.”
My fists tighten further until my claws threaten to break skin.
“Who had access to their food?” I ask.
Soren exhales slowly. “Kitchen staff. Serving attendants. The guards themselves. Anyone moving through the east wing at dinner. At least thirty people had opportunity.”
Thirty.
I turn away from them and look back at the window, forcing my breathing to steady. Rage clouds judgment. I will not let it make me stupid. Not now.
I crouch beside the broken frame, running my fingers along the cut stone. The marks are clean. Too clean.
“The bars weren’t pulled out,” I say. “They were cut. Tools. Time. Precision.”
Marcus kneels beside me, his expression grim. “That would have taken a while. No noise, or the guards inside would have heard it.”
“They knew exactly which room was hers,” I continue, my voice flat. “Which window faced the least protected stretch of the grounds. They didn’t hesitate. They didn’t search.”
My wolf snarls agreement.
“This wasn’t a smash and grab,” I say. “They came here for her.”
Soren straightens, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Could’ve been surveillance. Someone watching the palace from the forest. Tracking patrols. Learning patterns over weeks.”
“It’s possible,” I say, though my gut twists.
But the timing is wrong. Too perfect. The attack at the north gate. The shift change. Everyone looking the other way.
That kind of coordination requires more than patience.
It requires inside knowledge.
The thought tastes bitter in my mouth.
The door opens again, harder this time, and Thane strides in, his face tight with urgency. “Alpha. The tracking team found the trail.”
My head snaps up. “Where?”
“Northeast,” he says. “Toward the Blackwater Peaks.”
My body is already moving before he finishes speaking.
“Gather a strike force,” I order as I head for the door. “Twenty. Our best. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Caspian.”
Marcus’s voice stops me halfway down the corridor. I turn back slowly, meeting his eyes.
“This could be a trap,” he says carefully. “They take the girl knowing you’ll come after her. They lead you straight into an ambush.”
My eyes flash blue, my wolf pushing closer to the surface.
“I know,” I say. “Prepare for it. We’re going anyway.”
He studies me for a long moment, searching for something in my face. Then he sighs.
“She’s getting under your skin.”
It’s not a question.
I don’t answer.
His mouth tightens. “Just… be careful. The curse is designed to make you vulnerable to her. To make your wolf reckless. Don’t let it override your judgment.”
I step closer, lowering my voice.
“My judgment is that we cannot show weakness,” I say coldly. “They took something from me. From this pack. If we don’t respond with overwhelming force, every rogue in this territory will think we’re fair game.”
It’s the truth.
Just not all of it.
The courtyard is already alive with movement when I arrive. Warriors gathering, weapons being strapped on, tension humming through the air like a drawn bowstring. Twenty wolves step forward when I signal, all of them veterans, all of them killers when needed.
I face them, letting my presence settle over the group.
“We’re going into hostile territory,” I say. “The Blackwater Peaks. To retrieve what was stolen from us. This is likely a trap. Some of you may not come back.”
I let the words sink in.
“Anyone who wants to stay behind, speak now.”
No one moves. No one speaks.
Loyalty burns in my chest, sharp and painful.
“Good,” I say. “The rogues who took her are the same ones who killed Viktor. Who murdered our sentries. We find them. We end them. And we bring our prisoner back.”
I turn toward the forest. “Move out.”
We shift as one, bones breaking, muscles tearing and reforming as wolves burst free. The world sharpens instantly—scent, sound, the pull of the land beneath my paws. I take off at a brutal pace, not slowing, not looking back.
The forest blurs around us as we run. Branches whip past. The ground rises and falls. My wolf is frantic, dragging me forward, the bond pulling tight around my chest like a rope. Every mile between us feels wrong. Unnatural.
Hours pass, or maybe minutes. Time loses meaning.
The terrain grows rougher as we enter the Blackwater Peaks. The land here is wild and broken, claimed by no pack, ruled by no laws. Rogues thrive in places like this.
Everything about it screams danger.
I don’t slow.
Through the bond, I can feel her. Distant. Faint. But alive.
Then suddenly—pain.
It crashes into me without warning, sharp and blinding, followed by raw terror that is not my own. My wolf snarls, surging forward with a furious burst of speed, leaving some of the others struggling to keep up.
“Alpha!” someone shouts behind me.
I don’t stop.
We crest a ridge, the ground dropping away sharply on the other side. I skid to a halt at the edge, chest heaving, and look down.
Below us, hidden in the valley, is a sprawling rogue encampment. Fires burn low and controlled. Tents and structures arranged with purpose. Sentries posted. Organized. Military.
At least fifty wolves.
Maybe more.
Marcus shifts beside me, his breath ragged. “Alpha,” he says. “We’re outnumbered three to one. We should scout first. Find where they’re keeping her—”
A scream rips through the night.
Farah’s scream. Raw. Broken. Full of agony.
The world goes red.
My wolf explodes forward before my human mind can stop it, launching down the ridge straight toward the camp, and all I can think is—
I’m coming. Hold on.
- Writer
