Chapter 2: Empty Beds
1120 Words
I woke to silence.
Not that gentle sound you get when kids are sleeping. Not the normal creaks you hear when the old place shifts.
This was different. Empty. Dead quiet. The kind of silence that just feels wrong.
Yeah, the kind of feeling that just grabs all the air right out of your chest before your brain even catches up. Like for a second, you forget how to breathe, and you don’t even know why yet.
I shot upright, couldn’t breathe for a second. Knew something was off. Could still smell that ash on me, but that wasn’t it. The woods outside had gone quiet again. Too quiet. No birds. No wind. Just nothing.
And inside? Way too still.
I slid my legs off the bed, feet hitting that cold floor. Just stood there for a second, listening. Not a sound.
No blankets shifting around.
No Calen mumbling like he always does when he’s dreaming.
No giggle from Maris.
No, Elara whispers her secrets to the dark.
I walked out into the hallway, heart beating way too loudly in my chest.
The bedroom door was open. I never leave that door open. Not ever.
I pushed it the rest of the way and froze.
The beds were empty.
Covers thrown aside.
Toys were scattered everywhere on the floor.
That smell, the one that always hangs around after my kids—warm, sweet, home, you know? It was still there, but barely. Fading out way too quickly. Like something was stealing it right out of the air.
“Calen?” My voice cracked. “Maris? Elara?”
Nothing.
I moved fast. Not panicked. Not yet. Just fast.
Checked the bathroom. The loft. The tiny kitchen. Even the crawlspace in the pantry they used for hide-and-seek.
Empty. Every room. Every space.
My stomach turned to stone.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
I was so careful.
So damn careful.
They don’t know about the triplets. They can’t.
I sprinted back to the bedroom, eyes scanning for any clue, anything. That’s when I saw it.
A piece of paper. White. Clean. Sitting square in the center of Maris’s bed, as if placed there deliberately.
I snatched it up. My hand shook before I even read it.
The handwriting was clean. Elegant. Familiar in a way I didn’t want it to be.
You should have told him.
Now it’s too late.
I couldn’t get any air in.
Everything just sort of smeared for a second, felt too bright, too close. My vision went all tunnel-like. And that feeling, the one inside me, started to scratch and claw its way up. Wild. Restless. Like it wants out right now.
But I held the line.
Barely.
I read the note again. Then again. As if it would change.
“You should have told him.”
Lucien.
They meant Lucien.
Someone knew.
And worse—they knew *everything.*
I moved through the cabin like a storm. Opened the weapons chest. Pulled out my go-bag. My knife. A loaded Glock. Three burner phones.
All still here.
So they didn’t take anything else.
Just my children.
The scent trail would be fresh. I still had time.
Please let me save time.
I stormed out the front door, barefoot, not caring about the cold biting at my feet. The earth was damp with morning dew and something else.
Boot prints.
A lot of them.
Too many.
Not pack. Not local. The spacing was off. Heavy and fast, not careful like a trained tracker. No discipline. Either they were cocky, or they didn’t think I’d fight back.
Big mistake.
I dropped to my knees, sniffed the ground. The smell of wolfsbane lingered, stronger than last night.
They’d used it to keep me from sensing them while they circled the cabin.
I’d been out there. Alone. While they slipped past me and into the house.
God.
They were *inside* while I was standing on the porch.
And I hadn’t known.
I slammed a fist into the ground.
Focus.
No blood. No struggle. That meant the kids were taken quickly, probably drugged. Which bought me time. They’d be slow to wake up. Groggy. Less likely to fight.
Calen might try anyway. He had fire in him. Too much of me and Lucien both.
They had no idea what they’d taken.
I tracked the trail for a quarter mile before it vanished into thin air. Literally. One moment, scent and tracks. The next? Nothing.
A teleport ward. Or a cloaking circle. Either way, old magic.
Not something just anyone could pull off.
This wasn’t a rogue attack.
This was planned.
Organized.
Targeted.
And they’d left a note, which meant they wanted me to know it was personal.
They wanted me to run.
Or worse—they wanted me to come to *him.*
I stood there in the trees, wind pulling at my hair, rage boiling low in my chest.
Lucien Blackthorn.
Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack.
My once-fated mate.
The man who’d broken me with six words.
*“You’re not strong enough for this.”*
The man who never knew I was carrying his children when he walked away.
I left to keep them safe—from his pack, his enemies, and most of all, from him.
But now, someone had taken them.
And they believed I’d come crawling back to beg for help.
They were right about one thing.
I *was* going back.
But I wouldn’t be crawling.
I went back to the cabin, packed everything worth taking in under ten minutes, locked the door behind me even though I knew it didn’t matter, and buried the last six years under the weight of a decision I never wanted to make again.
I pulled the old leather pack from the closet—the one with the Blackthorn crest hidden inside the flap. My fingers hovered over it.
Once, that symbol meant safety.
Then it meant shame.
Now?
It meant war.
I shoved it into my bag and left.
The road to Shadowridge was long.
I hadn’t set foot in that territory since the day I disappeared. Burned every bridge. Faked my death. Told myself I’d never look back.
But I wasn’t the scared girl he rejected anymore.
I was a mother.
And someone had stolen my children.
If Lucien didn’t help me get them back, I’d burn his entire kingdom to the ground.
My car was already humming down the mountain road when I felt it.
That tingle at the base of my neck. The one that only flared when someone was watching.
I checked the mirror.
Nothing but trees.
Still, I knew.
Whoever took them, they weren’t done with me yet.
And I wasn’t done with them either.
- Writer
