Chapter 30
Chapter 30
Killian’s POV
The room was pretty dark, except for the flickering lantern casting a warm orange glow over the map table. I pressed my knuckles into the table's edge, staring hard at the marked paths—the routes Larisa could've taken, the areas my warriors were supposed to be watching.
She was gone.
Not a single guard spotted her leave. No one heard a peep. It was like she just disappeared into thin air.
But deep down, I knew better.
Larisa was far too stubborn and sharp to run off without a solid plan. Plus, she had help.
I slammed my fist onto the map table. The candle next to me shook, wax spilling over the sides like it was crying.
“DAMIEN.”
Saying his name left a sour taste in my mouth. He was behind this—slithering back into her life like the snake he is. I should’ve finished him off when I had the chance.
“She left a piece of her robe near the eastern woods,” Bran’s brother had reported earlier, looking pale and shaky. “But there was blood… not hers. We’re still tracking—”
He didn't get to finish before I hurled a chair across the room; it splintered against the wall.
“She was carrying my heir,” I growled, even though saying it felt like acid in my throat. “And you all just let her vanish.”
The guard lowered his head, silence hanging thick in the air, like he was afraid to say what we all suspected. The pups weren’t mine.
They never were.
I’ve known that deep down—ever since I picked my mate and she died shortly after, leaving Larisa there like a political pawn I never wanted. She was supposed to be controlled, silenced, used.
But somehow, she slipped right through my fingers.
Now she was out there with him.
“Alpha.”
I turned slowly at the knock on the door. Jarek walked in—my most loyal tracker, and the only one who could handle my moods without flinching.
“We found a body. Bran.” His voice was careful, almost too controlled.
I didn’t say anything; my jaw was clenched so tight it hurt.
“There was a mark near the body. A spiral.”
I perked up at that. “A spiral?”
Jarek nodded, tossing a folded paper onto the table. It was a rough sketch of the marking I’d seen in ancient scrolls—Witchborn symbology. Not from around here.
“She’s heading into territory she doesn’t understand,” Jarek continued. “And the rogue—Damien—he’s not the only one moving.”
I already had a feeling about that. This was about more than just love or betrayal now. Something deeper, older, and undoubtedly dangerous had been awakened.
“She’s drawn them out,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes on the spiral sketch. “They smell her blood and think she’s the key.”
“Should we expand the search?”
“No.” I glanced out the window at the forest stretching for miles under the pale dawn light. “Let them think they’re winning.”
Jarek hesitated. “Alpha?”
I stepped away from the table, slowly putting on my coat. “She’s on borrowed time. And Damien…”
I pulled the dagger from my belt—the same one I almost buried in his chest months ago.
“…he doesn’t realize I’m not the only one who wants him dead.”
As I stepped out into the chilly morning air, another scout rushed toward me, panting and wide-eyed.
“There’s something you need to see, Alpha.”
“What now?” I snapped, irritation creeping into my tone.
He gulped, extending a torn piece of crimson cloth—Larisa’s.
“We found this on the riverbank. But…”
He handed over a pendant tied to the cloth. My heart sank.
It wasn’t hers.
It was mine.
The one I’d stashed away in the safe beneath my floorboards—the one nobody should’ve known about.
They weren’t just running anymore.
They were luring me in.
And I was already caught in their trap.