Chapter 133: Still Close

Chapter 133: Still Close
Xavier’s POV
After a few minutes of silence, Carrick finally returned. He easily balanced a tray in one hand as three mugs of ale clinked together. He set them down on the table and flashed a smile as bright as ever.
“There you go, boys. Strong enough to put hair on your chest, or take it off, depending.” He winked and leaned against the edge of the table, folding his arms. “Now, tell me. Where are you from? Passing through? Or are you planning to stick around our little village for a while?”
Xavier felt Magnus shift beside him, clearly about to speak. But Carrick’s sharp gaze locked on him instead.
Testing me, Xavier thought. He wants to know who we are.
“I—” Xavier began, keeping his voice measured.
But before he could continue, the restaurant door slammed open.
One of his warriors strode inside, his face grim. His chest heaved as though he’d run the entire way. His eyes locked onto Beta Xavier instantly.
That was all it took. Xavier rose at once, the chair scraping hard against the floor. Magnus followed suit, pushing to his feet, and Dr. Alexander quickly moved after them. The drinks on the table spilled over as they scrambled for the nearest exit.
Carrick’s grin disappeared, and something flashed in his eyes. “Hey, what’s this? You order drinks, but don’t even take a sip? That’s bad manners in my place.”
But no one answered. The warrior turned sharply, and Xavier didn’t hesitate.
“Move,” he commanded.
They spilled out into the night, boots pounding the ground. Carrick trailed after them, narrowing his eyes and muttering something under his breath. He stopped by the door and watched them disappear into the dark.
But they didn’t stop until the lanterns of the restaurant were far behind, and the village noises had faded into silence.
Finally, the warrior stopped. His breath still came in ragged bursts, but he tried to steady himself.
“Beta,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I found something in the forest. You’ll want to see this.”
Xavier’s wolf surged inside him, his pulse quickening. He glanced at Magnus, who was already grinning. Alexander remained silent.
“Show us, then,” Xavier said, his voice low.
The warrior nodded once and turned, leading them deeper into the trees.
The deeper they moved into the forest, the heavier the atmosphere became. The warrior moved ahead of them, looking like someone who had already seen too much.
Then the familiar stench hit them.
Werewolf blood.
Xavier’s wolf snarled inside him, the hair on his arms bristling as they stepped into the clearing. His breath hitched before he could stop it.
Bodies were scattered across the forest floor. These were clearly the corpses of wolves, lying still under the pale light of the moon. Their fur was soaked in blood, their limbs twisted violently. Some had already begun to stiffen.
Magnus swore low nearby, his eyes sharpening as he crouched by the nearest wolf.
“These aren’t pack wolves. They look like hunters…” He ran his hand across a ragged gash in one chest. “And these wounds… they’re from a wolf. A massive one.” He glanced at Xavier, frowning. “Whoever did this wasn’t just killing them. They were tearing through them like prey.”
Xavier’s jaw tightened, his stomach churning. “Who could it be?”
Magnus shook his head, shrugging. “Don’t know.”
Nearby, Alexander knelt stiffly, his hands carefully examining another corpse.
“They’ve been dead for about a day. No more,” he said, his face pale. “Whoever did this has been far away.”
The forest seemed to press in tighter at those words. No one dared to move or speak for a moment.
The warrior swallowed hard, then motioned for them to follow. His tone was almost hesitant. “There’s more, Beta Xavier.”
Xavier followed immediately, his chest tight. Magnus and Alexander followed right behind him. They pushed through a line of trees at the edge of the clearing.
And there she was.
A woman’s body lay crumpled against the roots of an old oak, her dark hair spilling across the dirt. The faint moonlight illuminated her small frame and the curve of her face.
Xavier’s heart stopped for a few fatal seconds.
His knees nearly buckled as a wave of dread slammed into him. “Meredith—” he choked, the name ripping from his throat.
His wolf almost surged, howling within him. But as he stumbled forward, the truth struck him.
The scent was horribly wrong. The features were different from what he remembered too. This wasn’t his gorgeous mate. Not at all. It was another human, one who had likely been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“Damn it…” His breath tore from his chest in a ragged gasp, relief twisting painfully inside him. “I really thought…”
Xavier forced himself to steady his breathing as he crouched by the crumpled body. Up close, it was clear. The lines of the woman’s face were older, nothing like Meredith’s soft and lovely features.
Magnus let out a ragged exhale behind him. “Oh God, don’t do that to us again.”
Alexander stayed back, silent now, his eyes flicking nervously between the corpses and the two werewolves.
Xavier stood, scanning the clearing. The blood. The bodies. The chaos. It was all wrong. Who had fought here? And why?
He started moving around, his wolf prowling under his skin, pushing him forward. His ears strained, and his nose searched for anything.
Until suddenly, his entire figure stiffened.
A breath of wind cut through the clearing, and on it came a scent so familiar, it speared straight through his chest. It was sweet as honey and as warm as the sun. There was even a faint whisper of their bond.
Meredith…
His head snapped up. Across the clearing, Magnus had gone still too, his golden eyes wide. He had likely caught it as well. Their blazing gazes met, and that was enough to tell each other everything.
Xavier moved first, breaking into a fast stride toward the treeline where the scent drifted strongest. Magnus was right beside him.
The grass crunched underfoot. And then they finally saw it. A cloth, torn and half-buried in the dirt.
Xavier dropped to one knee, his heart hammering as he reached for the fabric. His trembling fingers curled around it.
He lifted it slowly, his throat burning. Her scent clung to the threads. “No,” he whispered.
Magnus crouched beside him, his jaw tight, his hands curling into fists. “These are hers,” he said. “I’d bet my life on it.”
Xavier swallowed hard, forcing down the storm in his chest. His thoughts began to fill his mind.
Why were her clothes here? Who had torn them? Was she taken? Did she run? Was she still alive?
“She was here,” Xavier said out of nowhere, just to calm and reassure himself. His eyes hardened. “Meredith was here. And she’s still close.”