Gone
Chapter 107:
Aria woke to the sound of her name.
“Aria.”
The voice was rough, tight with something she didn’t recognize at first, not anger, not fear, but both tangled together– panic. Her eyes blinked open to see Lucien leaning over her, the early light spilling through the window behind him. His expression was sharp, his jaw set, but he looked as though he never slept last night.
She pushed herself up, heart picking up with speed. “What is it?”
Lucien straightened, his hands clenched at his sides. “Kael never came back.”
The words cut quickly through the haze of sleep, she was in.
“What do you mean, never came back?” She swung her legs off the bed, pulling on her boots quickly. “He was with you wasn’t he? Didn't you head back…”
“He said he was going to check the perimeter, and thaat was hours ago,” Lucien cut in, already moving to the door. “He should’ve been back before dawn.”
Aria’s pulse jumped. Kael wasn’t the time to make others worry for no reason. He could never have just disappeared. “You looked for him?”
“I’ve been looking,” Lucien said, his tone clipped, strained with one could almost call worry. “No scent near the inn. His trail stops just outside the gate…like he just vanished on the spot.”
Aria’s chest tightened. ‘Vanished?’ Kael wasn’t careless. If anything, he was the most cautious of the three of them. Always scanning, always alert. For him to disappear without leaving a trace…
“He wouldn’t just leave,” she said, shaking her head. “Not without saying something.”
Lucien rose slowly from his chair, his shadow stretching long against the sunlight filtering through the window. “I know.”
He reached for his jacket, slipping it over his shoulders with practiced ease, but his jaw was clenched tight. Aria stepped toward him. “You’re thinking someone took him.”
“I’m thinking too many people want us dead,” Lucien replied, his voice a low rumble. “And Kael’s disappearance isn’t a coincidence.”
She grabbed her cloak and followed him out of the rooms, down the narrow stairs. The innkeeper froze when they passed the counter, his eyes darting between them. Lucien’s voice was sharp. “The man who came in with us last night… Tall, scar running down his jaw. Did you see him return?
The innkeeper swallowed. “No, Alpha. He went out not long after midnight. Didn’t say much and I assumed he was getting some air. I didn’t see him after that.”
Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “No one else came through?”
“No sir.”
Lucien’s jaw clenched. “Did you see which way he went?”
“Toward the woods.”
Aria’s stomach dropped.
Outside, the morning fog clung thickly to the ground. The settlement was barely waking — faint sounds of clattering pots, a few early risers hauling buckets of water from the well. Lucien didn’t wait for Aria to catch up. He strode toward the treeline, his boots thudding harshly against the dirt. Aria quickened her pace beside him, trying to keep her breath steady.
“Lucien,” she said, her voice tight. “What if he—”
“Don’t.” His tone was low, harsh. “We’ll find him.”
They reached the edge of the woods. The scent of pine and wet soil filled the air. Lucien crouched low, scanning the ground. The damp earth bore faint tracks: heavy footprints, half-smudged by rain.
“His,” Lucien murmured. He followed the trail a few paces, then stopped abruptly. His gaze hardened.
“What?” Aria asked, kneeling beside him.
He pointed at the ground. “There’s another set. Smaller. Two, maybe three.”
Her stomach twisted. “He wasn’t alone.”
Lucien stood, his body coiled tight. “They came from the south. He must’ve caught their scent too late.”
Aria’s throat closed. “He’s a warrior, Lucien. How could they have sneaked up on him?”
“I know,” Lucien said, voice breaking for the first time. “That’s what scares me.”
He moved faster then, pushing through the brush, scanning every inch of ground. Aria trailed close, her heart thundering in her chest. The forest grew thicker, darker. Branches clawed at their clothes as they passed.
A few minutes later, Lucien stopped again. “Here.”
Aria knelt beside him. In the mud was a streak of red. Blood. Fresh, but faint.
“Kael,” she breathed.
Lucien touched it with his fingers, then lifted them to his nose. His jaw locked. “It’s his.”
Her pulse quickened. “Then he’s hurt.”
“Or they needed him alive,” Lucien muttered. He rose, scanning the forest with his sharp, golden eyes. “The trail splits here. Two dragged him south.”
Aria looked down the narrow path barely visible through the fog. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Lucien hesitated for the briefest second. “You stay close to me. No shifting. No rune.”
“I’m not staying behind,” she snapped.
His eyes met hers, fierce and unyielding. “I know.”
They moved fast. The woods grew colder, the air thick with the damp scent of moss and iron. The faint tracks weaved between roots and fallen leaves, sometimes vanishing altogether, only for Lucien to pick them up again by scent alone.
They both said nothing but the air was thick with the worry neither dared to speak aloud.
Every so often, Aria thought she heard something, a branch breaking, felt the wind brush her ear carrying what sounded like a voice. Each time she froze, hoping it was him. Each time, it wasn’t.
After what felt like hours, they reached a narrow clearing. A small stream cut through the ground, its surface glinting faintly. Lucien stopped at the edge, scanning the earth.
The tracks ended.
He crouched low, searching. Nothing. Just damp soil and the faint scent of blood fading into the water.
“They masked their trail here,” he said finally, frustration rough in his voice. “Smart.”
Aria knelt beside him, her breath uneven. “So what do we do now?”
Lucien’s jaw worked, his gaze locked on the water. “We find out who did this. And we get him back.”
She wanted to believe him, but fear and doubt pressed down on her, harder.
“Lucien,” she said quietly, “what if this wasn’t random? What if they purposely wanted to separate us?”
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Then they made a mistake.”