Chapter 63 The Hollow in the Bond
Kier’s POV
The air in the security room was thick with tension. Every screen glowed with Sable’s face—her walking through the lobby, her silhouette crossing the street, her vanishing under a flickering streetlight.
And the man following her.
Sam.
He was the quiet type that always hovered too close to her our meetings with Everbright, the one who looked at her like she was sunlight he’d never deserved. But on the screen, the way he followed her, there was something darker in it. Something possessive.
Jenna’s voice cracked through the silence. “That’s him.” She pointed, hand shaking. “That’s Sam.”
“We know,” Jaxon said tightly, standing beside her.
“No, you don’t.” Her tone rose, sharp and trembling. “You don’t get it. I knew something was off with him. I just—” She ran a hand through her hair, pacing between the monitors. “I thought he’d moved on. Back in college, he tried to hook up with Sable once—she told me about it after. She turned him down, told him she wasn’t ready for that kind of thing, and he played it off like it was nothing. After, I noticed he was always around.”
I turned from the screen. “Define always around.”
Jenna swallowed. “He’d show up at her study spots. Sit near her at the library. Sometimes walk her home without being asked. I thought it was harmless.”
“Harmless,” Jaxon repeated, his voice tight.
Her eyes glistened. “He looked out for her, okay? He carried her books. Bought her coffee when she forgot breakfast. It was nice."
I crossed my arms, staring at the frozen frame of him standing watching her in the alley. “So he’s been obsessed for years.”
Jenna nodded, her voice breaking. “I thought he got over it. He never said anything again after she turned him down. But the way he looked at her lately, I—I should’ve known.”
The silence that followed pressed heavy. I looked at Jaxon. His jaw was set like granite, eyes cold. He’d seen this kind of fixation before—wolves who lost control.
He broke the silence first. “We’re wasting time. Security’s pulling feeds from every camera on that block. Kier, your contacts—can they tap into local traffic cams?”
“They can,” I said, already scrolling through my phone. “If we move fast.”
I dialed Damian, one of my old tech heads from my uncle's private network team. He answered on the second ring. “Mr. Blane?”
“I need live access to municipal feeds,” I said. “North side of the city—Main, Park, and the adjoining alleys. Now.”
A pause. Then, “You got it. You looking for something in particular.”
“Yes,” I snapped, voice cracking sharper than I meant. "My mate."
He didn’t ask any questions after that. The line went dead, replaced by the steady buzz of the monitors.
Jenna stood by the main screen, her arms wrapped around herself. “I hope she's ok."
“She’s strong,” I said. “But there is no way he would have been able to take her down alone.”
Jaxon frowned. “You think he knew what she was?”
I hesitated. “He might. If he’s been watching her that long, he’s probably seen things. Saw her slip. Maybe someone told him.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whoever did just signed their death warrant.”
Jenna looked up at me, pale. “You think she’s hurt?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Instead, I turned back to the screens. Every instinct in me screamed to move—to tear through the city until I found her—but my wolf… my wolf was silent.
It had been since that night with Liora.
He’d retreated so far I couldn’t feel him anymore. No growl, no echo, no pulse of instinct beneath my skin. Just a hollow where he should’ve been. I didn’t realize how much that silence hurt until now.
Because finding Sable without him felt impossible.
I braced my hands on the edge of the console, lowering my head. Come on, I thought, pushing the words toward the part of me that wasn’t answering. Come back. I need you. She needs us.
Nothing.
Just static.
“You ok?” Jaxon asked.
“No.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find her. You trained half the security force in this city. Someone’s seen something.”
“I don’t need something,” I said quietly. “I need her.”
The room fell still again until a new voice crackled over the comms. “Ironclad control, this is Damian. I’ve got eyes on traffic feeds from 8th through 14th. Sending footage now.”
The screens blinked, loading a grid of moving images—cars, pedestrians, night streets. I scanned each one, frame by frame, desperate for a glimpse.
Then, on one corner feed, I saw the van.
White, unmarked, parked halfway into the shadows near an old warehouse district. It matched the time. The direction.
“Stop,” I barked. “Zoom on that.”
Damian’s voice came through again. “You got it.”
The picture sharpened just enough to make out a figure climbing out of the driver’s seat—Sam. He looked around, nervous but determined, then disappeared into the building.
Jaxon cursed under his breath. “That son of a bitch.”
“Location?” I demanded.
“East Dock,” Damian replied. “Warehouse block seven. Not a good area.”
“Send the coordinates.”
Jenna’s voice trembled. “What if—what if he hurt her already?”
I turned to her. “Then I’ll return the favor.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t argue.
Jaxon was already barking orders into his phone, rallying a handful of Ironclad’s private security—men loyal to us, not the city. “Meet us at the east docks.”
Jenna hesitated. “I want to come.”
“No,” I said flatly. “You’ve done enough.”
“That’s not fair—”
“It’s not safe.”
She opened her mouth, but Jaxon stepped between us. “He’s right. You’ll slow us down. Stay here. If we lose contact, call this number they will know what to do.”
Her eyes filled, but she nodded, biting her lip.
I looked back at the monitors one last time—the image frozen on Sam’s face under that cheap streetlight. He looked ordinary. Forgettable. The kind of man who’d blend into the background.
The kind of man you didn’t notice until it was too late.
The kind of man who’d taken my mate.
As we left the control room, the silence between me and my wolf grew heavier. It wasn’t anger anymore—it was grief, a rift carved by my own mistakes.
Please, I thought again, sending the plea into the dark part of my mind. I know I broke us. I know. But she’s out there, and I can’t do this without you.
Still nothing.
But as the elevator doors slid shut and the city lights stretched below us, I swore I felt it—just for a second. A flicker of hope.