Chapter 179
Blake
The engine roared beneath us as I drove through the night, my knuckles bone-white against the steering wheel. Every muscle in my body screamed to floor it, to tear through these streets at speeds that would make even our wolf forms seem slow.
Kara was there—had been there—and every second we wasted put more distance between us and our mate.
"Blake." Asher's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, edged with Alpha authority that made my wolf bristle even as it forced my foot to ease off the gas. "We're no use to Kara dead in a car wreck. Slow down."
I wanted to snarl at him, to argue that speed was all that mattered, but the rational part of my brain recognized the truth. My hands trembled as I forced myself to maintain something closer to the speed limit, though every fiber of my being rebelled.
Through the bond, Cole's mint scent tried to soothe my gunpowder fury. She's there. I can feel it... she was there...
Was. The word made me want to punch something. Was meant past tense, meant we'd already missed her, meant—
"Stop spiraling," Asher said sharply. "Focus on what we can control."
In the back seat, Dmitri sat rigid, his weathered face carved from stone, while Ethan's fingers flew across his laptop. "Evergreen Heights, number seventeen," Ethan said. "Three-story modern build, sits about two kilometers from your eastern boundary. Close enough to watch, far enough to seem innocent."
My teeth ground together hard enough that I heard enamel crack. They'd been watching us. Watching her. Right under our fucking noses.
"If Diana's there," Dmitri's gravelly voice carried decades of hard-won experience, "don't engage directly. Her blood magic is more powerful than you realize—she can maintain multiple flesh puppets simultaneously, drain you before you even know you're fighting a construct."
"We scout first," Asher said, brooking no argument. "Confirm numbers, locate Kara, then decide. Our objective is bringing her home safely, not dying in the attempt."
Not dying in the attempt. The words should have been reassuring. Instead, they only reminded me how dangerous this was going to be. But I'd walk into hell itself if it meant getting Kara back.
Number seventeen materialized through the darkness like a pale specter, its white exterior catching moonlight and throwing it back in cold mockery. Every window was dark. No lights, no movement, nothing to suggest life inside.
I was out of the SUV before Asher finished parking, boots crunching in fresh snow as I stalked toward the building. The winter air should have been sharp and clean, but underneath it, barely perceptible, I caught something that made my entire world narrow to a single point.
"She was here." The words came out as a growl, my vocal cords already partially shifted. "I can smell her—white musk and first snow—it's faint, but it's her."
Cole was beside me instantly, nose lifted to the wind. "The driveway's untouched," he said, gesturing to unmarred snow. "No tire tracks, no footprints. Mailbox is empty. No one's been coming or going."
"Temporary holding location," Asher said, already circling the perimeter. "They may have moved her before we arrived."
"No." The denial ripped from my throat. My wolf clawed at my insides, insisting she was close. "She's here. She has to be. I can smell her."
But even as I said it, I knew Cole was right. The house had that abandoned quality of a stage after the performance ended—props in place, players long gone.
Dmitri's low whistle drew us to the western side, where a first-floor window stood slightly ajar. "Here. Either bait, or someone left in a hurry."
Asher's gaze met mine, then Cole's. We were walking into what could easily be a trap. But if there was even the slightest chance Kara was inside...
"Cole goes in first," Asher decided. "Most agile. Get inside, assess, then open the back door."
I wanted to argue, wanted to be the one to find her. But Asher was right—Cole moved like a ghost, and if this was a trap, we needed stealth over brute force.
At least initially.
Cole slipped through the window with barely a whisper. Through our link, I felt his immediate assessment—empty living room, high ceilings, black marble floors.
Then his mental voice sharpened with alarm. Brothers, you need to see this. Definitely Court's safe house. The symbolism is everywhere.
Images flooded through our bond—paintings of lunar eclipses, women holding hands around massive silver serpents with blood-red eyes. A white-clad woman before a mirror, her reflection showing a snake's shadow. Sculptures of feminine heads with hair woven from serpent bodies.
"Forget the artwork," Asher's mental command crackled. "Find the back door."
The soft click of a lock was the sweetest sound I'd heard in days. We moved as one, flowing into the house with coordinated precision.
Inside, Kara's scent hit me like a physical blow—stronger here, concentrated in ways the outdoor traces hadn't been. My wolf surged forward, demanding I follow that trail to its source, but Asher's hand on my shoulder stopped me before I could bolt toward the stairs.
"Careful," he warned, ebony scent sharp with the same desperate need consuming me. "Could be traps. Blood magic wards. We need to be smart."
Smart. When every instinct howled at me to find my mate, tear apart anything between us, Asher wanted me to be smart.
But he was right. Charging in blind might trigger something that would hurt Kara if she was still here, or destroy evidence if she wasn't.
Dmitri had moved to investigate the dining room—long wooden table, two chairs, another disturbing painting above the fireplace. But it was when I followed my wolf's insistent pull toward that same room that everything else ceased to matter.
The scent was strongest here, concentrated around one of the chairs. I found myself drawn to it like a compass to true north, my hand reaching out before I could stop myself. The instant my fingers touched wood, I was lost.
Kara had sat here. The knowledge crashed through me with absolute certainty, and my eyes shifted to gold. "She was here," I breathed, voice rough. "She sat in this chair. She was here."
My hands trembled as I ran them over the table's surface, as if I could somehow absorb her presence, feel the warmth of her skin even though she'd been gone for hours. God, I could almost see her sitting there, almost hear her voice—
"Blake." Cole's gentle touch on my shoulder grounded me slightly. He'd joined me, nose lifted. "I smell her too. But..." His brow furrowed. "There's something off. The scent is too faint, and there's something else mixed in."