Chapter 182
Cole
We'll find her. Blake's mental voice was fierce, responding to emotions I hadn't meant to broadcast so loudly. And when we do, you can mark her again at that exact spot. Make the memory fresh. Hell, we'll have her mark all three of us again if that's what it takes. We'll cover ourselves in her marks until there's no fucking question who we belong to.
I didn't answer, just watched Glacier Point disappear in the rearview mirror and tried not to think about how empty the world felt without her in it. How wrong it was to be driving through our territory without her scent filling the car, without her warm presence between us.
Hold on, baby, I thought, sending the words out into the void even though I knew she couldn't hear me through whatever was blocking our bond. We're coming. Just hold on a little longer.
---
The house appeared through the snow like something from a nightmare—a single-story shack that looked one strong wind away from collapse, its unpainted wood covered in thick frost and black spots that made my medical training scream warnings. The yard was a graveyard of abandoned fishing equipment, rusted nets, and the skeletal remains of boats, all half-buried under knee-deep snow.
"Jesus Christ," Blake muttered as we climbed out of the SUV. "What kind of shithole is this?"
"Black mold," Asher said flatly, his gaze fixed on the largest patch spreading across the porch support beam like some kind of cancer. "Stachybotrys chartarum. Toxic to humans, dangerous to wolves in high concentrations. Potentially lethal to pregnant females and unborn pups."
The clinical assessment sent ice through my veins. I'd been about to walk closer, to examine the mold out of morbid curiosity, but Dmitri's hand shot out and grabbed my arm with surprising strength.
"Don't touch it," he warned, voice sharp with an edge I hadn't heard before. "The spores can cling to clothing, fur, skin. If any of you carry them back to Kara when we find her—" He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. The image of those toxic spores reaching our pregnant mate was enough to make my wolf snarl with protective fury.
Blake had gone rigid, his entire body vibrating with barely controlled rage as he stared at the moldering house. "What kind of person lives like this? Either he's broke as fuck, or he doesn't give a damn about his own health."
"Or he's hiding," Dmitri said quietly, his weathered face grim. "Running from something so dangerous that even this is preferable to being found."
Before any of us could respond, Blake was already stalking toward the front door, his impatience overriding caution. His fist came up, and I barely had time to think too hard before he was hammering on the wood with enough force to make the entire porch structure groan and shed snow from the eaves.
The door flew open so fast Blake's raised fist froze mid-swing, his knuckles hovering inches from the face of the man who'd appeared in the doorway. For a moment, they stood like that—Blake caught in the awkward aftermath of nearly punching someone, the stranger staring at him with wide, wary eyes that looked like they'd seen too much and trusted too little.
Smooth, brother, I sent through our link, unable to help the small flicker of amusement despite everything. Very dignified. Real Alpha behavior.
Shut the fuck up, Blake shot back, slowly lowering his fist and shoving it into his pocket with exaggerated casualness, like he'd totally meant to do that.
The man in the doorway was tall and rail-thin, his gaunt face dominated by large, pale blue eyes that darted constantly, as if searching for invisible threats lurking in the snow around us. Sparse brown hair fell in unwashed tangles around a face that looked older than it probably was, stress and paranoia having carved deep lines around his mouth and eyes. Only his eyebrows seemed substantial, thick and dark enough to nearly meet in the middle, giving him a perpetually worried expression.
"Jasper Rook?" Blake asked, his voice coming out rougher than intended, still half-growl from the adrenaline of the drive.
The man jerked like he'd been electrocuted, his hands immediately beginning that anxious rubbing motion people developed when their fight-or-flight response was permanently stuck on 'flight.' "Jasper Rook? Who wants to know? Are you police? FBI? Do you have a warrant? You need a warrant to—" He started backing up, and then, to my complete disbelief, began reciting in a rapid, panicked monotone: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford—"
"Okay, okay, stop!" Blake threw his hands up in a placating gesture, though I could feel his frustration bleeding through our bond like acid. "Jesus Christ, we're not cops. We're not FBI. We're sure as hell not Court. We're just looking for someone, and we need your help. That's it."
Jasper's recitation cut off mid-sentence, his mouth still half-open as he blinked at us in confusion. Through our link, I felt Asher's assessment: Severe paranoia, possibly trauma-induced. Approach with caution. Don't spook him or we'll get nothing.
Blake took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to gentle his tone in a way that must have cost him given how badly he wanted to shake answers out of someone—anyone. "Look, our mate, Kara, has been kidnapped. Taken by people who want to hurt her. We heard you knew her father, Connor. We need information, and we need it fast. Every second we waste standing here is another second she's in danger, scared and alone and—" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear beneath his anger. "Please. We just need your help."
Something shifted in Jasper's expression at Kara's name. The manic edge softened slightly, replaced by something that might have been recognition or concern or maybe just the first glimpse of the man beneath the paranoia.
"Are you Jasper Rook?" Blake asked for the third time, his voice low and serious now, stripped of aggression, just honest desperation laid bare.
Jasper straightened slightly, his pale eyes finally meeting Blake's directly for the first time since the door had opened. When he spoke, his voice was suddenly clear, focused, almost normal. "Yes," he said quietly. "I'm Jasper Rook."
Then he stepped aside, gesturing into the cluttered darkness beyond with a hand that trembled slightly. "Come in. I've been waiting for you."