His Missing Luna

CHAPTER 80

NATHAN

I WILL FIND HER

The wind rushes past us as we run, every stride a desperate bid to close the distance between Jessica and me. Declan’s strength surges through our shared form, his fury and determination fueling us both. The moon hangs low in the sky, a silent observer to our frantic search, but as the hours stretch on, even its cold light offers no solace. The estate looms in the distance, its silhouette growing larger with each passing second. It should feel like home, but right now, it feels like a prison—a place that holds nothing but unanswered questions and suffocating silence.

We reach the edge of the grounds in record time, skidding to a halt near the back entrance. For a moment, I hesitate, the hope that maybe, just maybe, Jessica has somehow made it back gnawing at me. Declan’s breath comes in heavy pants, the shift back to human form slower this time, as if neither of us wants to face what we know deep down—that she’s not here.

But I have to check. I have to know.

“Nathan!” My mother’s voice cuts through the still night air, as I reach the front door of the pack house. I turn to see her rushing toward me, her face pale and drawn. “Where’s Jessica? Where is she? Alex linked us.”

My throat tightens, and I can’t bring myself to answer. The bond is still silent—deafening in its absence—and I feel a fresh wave of panic clawing at my insides. My mother reaches out, gripping my arm with a strength that belies her small frame. “Nathan, where is she?” she asks again, her voice trembling now, fear shining in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally manage to choke out, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “She’s… gone.”

My mother’s hand falls away, and for a brief moment, I see the same helplessness reflected in her eyes that I feel gnawing at my soul. But she quickly recovers, her face hardening into a mask of determination. “We’ll find her,” she says, her voice strong and unyielding. “We’ll bring her back,” she pats my back like she always did when I was little.

I nod, but the motion feels hollow. I pull away from her, needing to move, needing to do something other than stand here and let the hopelessness drown me. The garden—Jessica’s sanctuary—beckons to me, and I find myself drawn to it, desperate to see if maybe she’s there, hidden among the flowers and greenery she’s so lovingly cultivated.

As I approach, the scent of jasmine and roses fills the air, a bittersweet reminder of Jessica’s presence. The moonlight bathes the garden in a silvery glow, casting long shadows across the pathways. I push open the gate, the hinges creaking softly, and step inside, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Jessica?” I call out softly, the sound of her name almost swallowed by the quiet rustle of leaves. I move deeper into the garden, my eyes scanning every corner, every nook where she might be hiding. But the only thing that greets me is the gentle whisper of the wind through the trees.

I kneel by the small fountain she loves, the one she insisted on installing because she said the sound of trickling water was soothing. My fingers trail through the cool water, and for a moment, I close my eyes, imagining her here, sitting by the fountain with that soft smile she always wore when she was at peace.

But when I open my eyes, the harsh reality crashes down on me. She’s not here. The garden is empty, devoid of the warmth and life she brought to it. I stand, my chest tightening as the weight of her absence presses down on me. But I can’t stop now. I can’t give in to the despair threatening to swallow me whole.

I head inside, my feet carrying me automatically to our room. Maybe she’s there, maybe she somehow made it back and is waiting for me. The thought gives me a brief surge of hope, but as I push open the door, the cold emptiness of the room hits me like a physical blow. The bed is neatly made, the pillows fluffed just the way she likes them. Her scent lingers faintly in the air, but it’s a ghostly echo of her presence.

“Jessica,” I whisper, the sound of her name barely more than a breath. I move through the room, checking the bathroom, the closet, even the small reading nook she’s claimed as her own. But there’s nothing. No sign of her. No warmth, no light. Just a gaping void where she should be.

I collapse onto the bed, my hands gripping the sheets as if they can somehow tether me to reality. The bond is still silent, a yawning emptiness that gnaws at my sanity. I feel like I’m suffocating, the walls closing in around me as the realization sinks in—she’s gone, and I don’t know where to find her.

A knock on the door jolts me from my spiraling thoughts. It’s Cara, her face etched with worry. “Nathan?” she asks tentatively, stepping into the room. “Have you… found anything?”

I shake my head, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. She moves closer, sitting beside me on the bed, her hand resting gently on my arm. “We’ll find her,” she says softly, but the words do little to comfort me.

“I can’t feel her, Cara,” I confess, my voice breaking. “I can’t feel the bond. It’s like… it’s like she’s not even there.”

She squeezes my arm, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’ll get her back,” she insists, but the doubt lingers in the air between us, unspoken but palpable.

I stand abruptly, the need to move, to do something, anything, driving me forward. “The library,” I mutter, more to myself than to Cara. “Maybe she’s in the library.”

The library is one of her favorite places in the estate, a sanctuary within a sanctuary. It’s where we’ve spent countless hours together, curled up with books, talking about everything and nothing. The thought of her being there, safe and waiting for me, fuels my steps as I practically run down the hall.

But when I reach the library, the emptiness hits me again. The room is just as we left it, the bookshelves lined with volumes of all sizes and subjects, the plush chairs inviting in their comfort. But there’s no sign of Jessica. I check behind every chair, under every table, my desperation growing with each passing second.

Finally, I stop in the middle of the room, my hands gripping the back of a chair so tightly my knuckles turn white. The silence is deafening, the realization that she’s not here crashing down on me with the force of a tidal wave. My knees buckle, and I sink to the floor, the weight of it all finally too much to bear.

The loss, the fear, the helplessness—it all comes crashing down, and I break. Sobs wrack my body, the sound torn from the depths of my soul as I bury my face in my hands. I’ve never felt so lost, so utterly powerless. The bond is still silent, and it feels like a part of me has been ripped away, leaving a gaping wound that nothing can heal.

Cara kneels beside me, wrapping her arms around me in a fierce hug. But even her warmth, her presence, can’t chase away the cold emptiness inside me. Jessica is gone, and I don’t know how to bring her back. All I know is that I will tear the world apart if I have to. I will search every corner of the earth, move heaven and hell, to find her. Because without her, nothing else matters.

The night stretches on, and I don’t know how long I sit there, lost in my grief. But one thing is clear—this isn’t over. I will find her. No matter what it takes, no matter the cost, I will bring Jessica back.

But for now, all I can do is grieve.