The weight of the long day at the Pack house settled deep into my bones. It was a good kind of tired though because my time with the kids was just perfect. Marco’s small hand was in mine as I led him up the path to our place.
“Did you see how well my painting was?”
“I did honey” I said, squeezing his hand. “You were amazing.”
My eyes flickered to my phone on the kitchen counter the second we stepped inside. The screen was dark. Silent. No messages. No missed calls. A cold knot of worry, which had been a dull ache all day, tightened in my stomach. Astor had been gone for a day now without a word.
But thanks to the bond even in the silence, I could feel him. A steady, low hum in the very center of my being, like a heartbeat that wasn’t my own. He was alive. He was okay. Wherever he wa
