Reclaimed By Alpha Zac

Chapter Three

MABEL’S POV

The drive home felt like ages, even though it had been only ten minutes on the road. My fingers tapped repeatedly on the steering wheel as the knots in my stomach began to tug towards my chest, a sense of dread and anxiety filling my mind all at once. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something bad was happening to my boys—almost like I needed to check up on them to be sure that my mind was just playing tricks on me.

Immediately, I pulled into the driveway and bolted into the house. “Axel? Alex? Lena?” I called out as I slowly peered through the rooms, but the only response I got was the echoing of my voice.

No, no, no, NO.

Quickly, I grabbed my phone and dialed the school with trembling hands.

“Mrs. Clark!” I exclaimed over the phone. “Do you remember me? It’s me, Dr. Mabel! The one with the son that had stomach issues!”

She clicked her tongue in realization. “Ah, yes, I—”

“Please, are my boys still at school?” I cut off her, silently praying that her response came out affirmative.

“No, Dr. Mabel…” She trailed off as if trying to wrap her head around my questions. “The bus dropped them off about an hour ago.”

My heart dropped. “They…they’re not here, Mrs. Clark.”

“What? Hold on, I’ll check with the driver shortly.” She promised, but the hesitation in her voice told me that even she was taken aback by the situation, unsure of what to make out of it.

I waited and bit into my nails nervously, pacing around the living room, my breaths slowly getting shallower and heavy with each second that ticked by. They have to be safe out there—no, they needed to get home immediately as the only safe place was with me! No one can know about their werewolf identity! If news got out, I could be in so much trouble—they could get in so much trouble!

When Mrs. Clark got back on the line, the tone in her voice was different; her voice cracked with worry and uncertainty.

“The driver just confirmed that your boys were dropped off at home.” Mrs. Clark revealed.

“I said they’re not here! Didn’t you hear me the first time?!” I spat, anger and frustration rolling off my chest as panic surged through my body. Where could they be? And since when did they start getting on the school buses? God, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if anything happened to them.

I ended the call, and quickly grabbed my keys to hit the road once again. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but I didn’t care—I just needed my boys to be with me, right in my arms.

I drove to every house I could ever think of, knocked on the neighboring doors down the block, and hoped that someone—anyone—had seen my boys. But with each knock and questioning came the same negative answer that I dreaded the most. At this rate, the only way to get things done faster was to report to the police station.

But by the time I’d reached the police station, I was aching with exhaustion and hunger. I rushed to the front desk, tears spilling from my eyes as I tried as much as possible to explain the situation at hand and give them all the details needed to recognize my sons.

And before I knew it, a search party was conducted.

For three days, the search days went on. And within these three days, I barely ate and slept. Heck, I didn’t even go to the hospital. How could I when my sons were out there in the cold, possibly in the hands of a dangerous person—or worse, creature!

The police searched the entire neighborhood, checked every CCTV camera that watched over secret, dark, and hidden alleyways parting through the city, and interrogated anyone who might have looked suspicious or been around at the time of the incident. But just like the first day of the search party, all they got were nothing but unanswered questions and no leads.

It was as if they’d disappeared into the thin air.

But I didn’t stop searching. I printed out different copies of their pictures, pasting them on every wall across the streets I could find. I stayed outside cafes, and shoved copies into passerby’s hands, begging them to call the number on the line if they ever saw anything that could help her situation.

However, on the fourth day of the search party, I was pasting another copy of the picture to a different location—this time a lamppost—and turned around abruptly, bumping into someone who was behind me.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I quickly apologized and tried to pass him a copy of the picture but the stranger in the black hoodie was already walking away from me, his hands in his pockets as his steps increased when he noticed that I was now staring in his direction, a little harder than I’d intended to.

My attention immediately shifted to the odd paper that landed on my feet, and I cautiously bent down to pick it up, noticing how old and weird it looked from how crumpled it was.

As I gently unfolded the paper, my breath got caught at the back of my throat. My hands immediately reached out for my lips to stop the scream that was about to escape my throat. The handwriting on the paper looked rushed and rough, but I was still able to make out the threat that lay there:

Your children’s identity has been discovered. They’ve been taken back to the werewolf realm. If you want them back, you’ll have to fight for them.

My hands shook as I read the words over and over again, refusing to accept the fact that not only were my children kidnapped but they were also taken back to the werewolf realm.