The Moonstrike Pack
“There’s no sign, Alpha.”
Beta Tyler stood rigidly before Zion’s desk, his voice hushed, as if he hated delivering the grim news.
“The Sentinels combed all of Dunkeld, all the way to the northern forest border. Every trail, every scent—vanished. As if the earth had swallowed Lady Arwen,” he continued.
Zion slowly lifted his head. Those silver eyes looked hollow, yet behind them burned a fury on the edge of eruption. His dark hair was disheveled, his jaw shadowed by stubble—the face of an Alpha who had lost his light.
“It’s been a week, Tyler,” he muttered heavily. “A week without hearing her voice. A week without breathing in her scent. Do you know, every time I close my eyes, all I can do is call her name? Arwen…”
Tyler clenched his fists at his sides. “I know, A
