Chapter 78 Coming for You
☽ Bastian ☽
“How is he?”
Sorin, my godfather and Alpha Mordane’s former beta, cut me off in the hallway.
IronWolf was dreary. Solemn.
My steps never slowed as I replied over my shoulder. “I did not check in. The construction is underway and should be completed by noon.”
The Ironkeep was being restructured to better suit the feral alpha, as he was called these days.
Thicker, silver-infused metal. Barbed spikes to keep him in. Paralysis poison darts to slow him down in the event of an escape attempt.
Pack members shuffled by with their heads down, spooked and frightened.
“He’s sober at the moment. You might want to—”
“Want to what?” I whirled on him, fists clenched.
Conversations were lost on Mordane. The only thing there was to discuss was destroying that damned amulet around his neck.
And he vehemently refused, despite the steady decline of his sanity.
Sometimes, now more than ever, I suspected the amulet had been surrendered so easily because it was a curse. If only he could recognize it as one.
“You know it might take weeks until you get a window like this again. You must not give up on him,” Sorin insisted.
He matched my pace out the front doors and toward the training yard.
Ever since his arrival, he’d taken my place keeping the alpha company. The few times Mordane would deign to step out of his head and live in the real world, he and Sorin would discuss anything from pack politics to the weather.
But only one thing was constant in my mind, taking up every precedence. My mate.
At the thought, my wolf stirred.
Mate. Mate. Find mate.
My Maeve had been taken from right under my wing by that damned vampires.
It had been two fucking months.
But between watching Mordane, staying on top of the feral vampire threat, and investigating ways to infiltrate Veilmoor, I was at a stalemate.
“I know you’re worried about the princess consort, but I’ve spoken to Gwen. She continues to assure me that as long as Maeve is in the care of that… Crimson, she won’t be harmed.”
I froze.
The sun roared heatwaves down my back with a vengeance. The air blew hot and irritable. Even the dust seemed to tremble under my feet.
Loosening my jaw enough to snarl words, I turned to him.
“You weren’t there. You should have seen her, the day I caught them at the edge of Blackbridge.” I swallowed thickly, suppressing rage while trying to speak sense into him.
“She ran to me,” I spat, the memory tearing me apart. “Terrified, bloody, and broken.”
Sorin’s gaze shuttered. He had no explanation for that.
Gwen, my mate’s mother, seemed to adore the leech, Nikolai.
I had been curious to know just what relationship she had with the vampire to give her such absolute trust in him regarding my mate’s safety, but I could never bring myself to question her.
I feared I would snap.
The leech had claimed my mate was his bride. That was how insane and unstable he was. Maeve should not have been let anywhere near him.
Two months.
Two months without her fiery temper, without that scent that anchored me. I hadn’t known a worse torture—not even the Graves incident.
I shook off the memory with a snarl at Sorin.
When I continued on my way, he did not follow.
My steps thundered against the earth, gaze sharp as I searched for Yara. The soldier was loyal, efficient, and probably the only thing keeping me from going mental.
I turned the corner and ran into a platoon of returning soldiers.
Bloody, sweaty, fresh from a hunt, they marched toward the fortress.
Scowling, I stood with my arms crossed, waiting for them to reach me.
I did not remember sending a hunting group out.
The men slowed before me. Some struck their chests in respect, others bowed their heads, deferring to authority.
“What is this?” I demanded.
My wolf was unstable. The slightest offense had us baying for blood and retribution. Already, I felt my claws curl.
One soldier stepped forward, shoulders back. “We’re the R2 group sent into Blackbridge to weed the ferals. It was quite a successful hunt.”
I would know. In my rages, I tore through the woods, cutting down any undead unfortunate enough to cross my path.
“And who authorized this? Ashar?”
“The commander.” He supplied.
I bristled, instincts flaring.
Commander Leif was continuously stepping out of line, making moves without running them through the chain of command. Me.
With the absence of the alpha and my former disinterest in pack politics, he was getting bolder.
Our last spat had not taught him his lesson.
I unclenched my fists, exhaling deliberately.
It would not do to lose my head. Not now, when the alpha was out of commission.
The pack needed leadership, protection, a tight fist.
Somehow, I would manage all at once while pining for my mate.
“Restrain yourselves in the underground dungeons,” I growled. “When I decide you’ve remembered the chain of command, you may be released.”
The soldier who had spoken looked like he wanted to complain. Speak up.
But I recognized him. Leif’s unofficial right-hand man. I would weed him first.
With a sharp nod and gritted teeth, he led his platoon of ten past me.
I could feel it in my bones. The alpha was away, and the mice dared to play.
I sniffed Yara out, catching her, Ashar, and Ren just inside the weaponry.
As soon as I entered, they turned to me.
“Prince Bastian.” Yara bowed, her ever-present weapon, a bow, strapped across her back.
The title nettled me. Always a prince, never an alpha. Unless Mordane perished. But for the life of me, I sought a way to save him instead of wiping the slate clean.
Ashar slapped my back in greeting. I returned the gesture.
Facing Yara, I demanded, “Updates.”
“The feral population is dwindling even faster than before, but not just from our efforts. It seems Graves is not turning as much as he was. He probably stopped.”
“Impossible, like I just said,” Ashar cut in. “The mortal has a grand plan. That plan involves building an army. He’s definitely hiding his weapons, planning to unleash them when we least expect.”
Then, to himself, Ashar muttered, “I wonder why he doesn’t turn himself. A man like that would seek immortality.”
“How do you know he hasn’t?” I asked.
Graves had not been seen for twenty years, preferring to operate from the shadows.
“We think it’s because he hasn’t perfected the science yet. He won’t risk making himself feral,” Ren, Yara’s girlfriend, observed.
“You have a point.” I brushed a hand over my face. “And the other mission?”
My heart raced. Every fiber of me hoped for a boon.
A shred of luck. Some positive news.
Yara’s face fell. “Every single sane vampire we find refuses our offer. It seems they can’t be bribed to sneak us into Veilmoor. Most would rather die. Others fight back, and then die.”
My jaw clenched. I closed my eyes, disappointment roaring louder than desperation.
I had ordered Ashar, Yara, and Ren to attempt a coercion mission on vampires originating from Veilmoor.
No luck there.
It was time for Plan B. Which had been my first and preferred plan, but my soldiers had talked me out of it. Wasting time until two months flew by.
Months of aching, raging, worrying for my mate. Who knew what in the seven hells they were putting her through in that blasted mountainous kingdom of leeches.
“As soon as the Ironkeep is completed, I’m leaving to bring her back myself. Don’t dare try to talk me out of it. I followed your counsel, and look where it led us,” I gritted.
Yara and Ren looked guilty. Ashar stepped forward.
“It wasn’t a waste. We tightened security, pushed back the feral threat, and secured the alpha. Now you can go on your suicide mission with a clear mind, knowing the pack is self-sufficient and protected.”
From both internal threats, the alpha, and external threats, the ferals.
Finally. I was free.
Free to tear through the lands and take back what was mine.
Bloodlust swelled in my veins, a constant growl in my throat.
I glanced around the weaponry, setting my sights on a weapon that complemented my natural arsenal perfectly.
A flail.
Barbed spikes crowned two hefty, solid balls of metal, attached to a thick chain.
I grinned, what must have been closer to a snarl.
When I met Ashar’s gaze, his eyes glinted, head tilting in recognition.
The wolf was on the hunt.
Every step away from this dark fortress would be closer to her, and closer to danger.
But no one, nothing, would stop me.
Mate, I’m coming for you.