Chapter 187
Blake
The speedometer needle quivered past 120. I didn't ease off the gas. Every second Kara stayed in Court's hands was another second I might lose her forever.
Asher sat silent in the passenger seat, his jaw tight. Through our bond, I felt his approval—he knew if I didn't channel this rage into speed, I'd explode. My wolf clawed at my ribs, screaming to shift and run to her, but even an Alpha at full sprint couldn't match this engine.
In the rearview mirror, Dmitri's headlights kept pace. Cole hunched in the backseat, face buried in Kara's pillow, breathing in what remained of her scent before it faded completely. Through our link, his medical mind was already calculating—how many hours until only memory would suffice?
I gripped the wheel harder. Three months. Court had Connor and Celeste for three fucking months, and we'd been too consumed by guilt to see it.
"Blake." Asher's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Breathe. Crashing won't help her."
"I know." The words scraped out. "But—"
"But you're seeing her strapped down somewhere." Cole's voice came muffled from behind. "Needles in her veins. Our child—" He couldn't finish.
The image crystallized in my mind with sickening clarity. Kara's golden curls matted with sweat, brown eyes glazed with fear, hands cradling her belly while Court's blood mages drained everything that made her her. Creating a replacement. Sending us a hollow shell while the real Kara withered in some cell.
My wolf surged. The speedometer hit 140.
"Blake." Asher's Alpha command slammed through our bond, forcing my wolf back. "I need you functional. She needs you functional. You spiral now, you're useless to her."
"You're not thinking the same thing?" I snarled, eyes flashing gold in the mirror.
"Every second." His admission came quiet. Lethal. "But rage without strategy is suicide. We have a location. We have allies. We will get her back. But only if you keep us on the road."
Through our bond, his certainty anchored me. His cold fury matched mine. I felt Cole already cataloging what Kara might need—fluids, warmth, gentle handling if they'd drugged or tortured her. Planning for recovery because the alternative was unthinkable.
My foot eased off the gas. The needle dropped to 125.
Dmitri's voice crackled through the Bluetooth. "I need to tell you something. About Celeste. About why Court wanted her."
I glanced at Asher. Through our bond, I felt his calculation—every second listening was a second not driving. But Dmitri had lived with Court's shadows for decades.
"Talk," Asher said. "Fast."
Static hissed. When Dmitri spoke again, his voice carried weight that made my wolf pause. "Celeste's first shift happened at three years old. Impossibly early. Her wolf form was silver-white—legendary rare. But her pheromones..." He exhaled shakily. "Snow-silver. I've only encountered that signature once in seventy years. In her."
Through our bond, Asher's breath caught. Cole's medical mind connected the dots instantly.
"Kara," Cole whispered. "The white musk and first snow. She inherited it."
"Refined it," Dmitri confirmed. "Into something even rarer. Court doesn't just collect bloodlines, boys. They collect potential. Celeste had raw power—blood magic compatibility. But she was already damaged, weakened by addiction and Connor."
Bitterness dripped from his voice when he said Connor's name.
"Kara, though..." Dmitri continued. "Kara is everything Celeste could have been, unspoiled. Eighteen, perfectly healthy, carrying two powerful bloodlines. And now? Pregnant with triplet Alpha heirs. She's not just valuable to Court. She's irreplaceable."
Each word hit like a bullet. Puncturing the fragile hope I'd clung to—that maybe Court just wanted leverage, something we could negotiate for.
"They won't kill her," I said. Needed to believe.
"They won't kill her quickly," Dmitri corrected.
The distinction made bile rise in my throat.
"Enough." Asher's command sliced through the car. "We understand. Tell us something we can use."
Silence stretched. Three heartbeats. Four.
"The base you're heading to used to be military research," Dmitri finally said. "Cold War biological experiments. The underground levels go down at least five stories. If Court's using it, they've reinforced those lower levels. Made them into cells. Labs. Places where screams can't reach the surface."
My vision tunneled. The highway narrowed to a single point ahead. Kara screaming in some underground hell while we raced through the Alaskan night.
"Blake." Cole's hand gripped my shoulder, his mint scent flooding the car. "She's still alive. I feel her through the bond—faint, but there. As long as that connection exists, she's fighting. We just have to reach her before—"
He didn't finish. Through our bond, we all felt the same dread: before they break her completely.
"Connor told me something," Jasper's reedy voice joined through the Bluetooth. I'd forgotten he was still on the line. "Three months ago, in his last real letter—before Court captured him. He said Court's current operation was entering its final phase. That once it concluded, he and Celeste could finally emerge."
"Final phase," Asher repeated. "Meaning what?"
"I don't know. He was cryptic, afraid Court would intercept. But he mentioned 'K comes of age next week.' Written one week before Kara's eighteenth birthday."
The timeline clicked into place with sickening precision. Court captures Connor and Celeste three months before Kara's birthday. Extracts information about her routines, our security, Midnight Estate's layout. Creates puppets to maintain the illusion. Uses the real Connor to write one final letter with perfect codes.
Then waits. Watches. Plans.
Waits for Kara to turn eighteen. To shift. To confirm she'd inherited Celeste's gifts. Waits for us to discover she was our mate, to mark her, to get her pregnant—making her value skyrocket.
Then strikes.
"The handwriting." Jasper's voice shook. "I should have seen it. The pressure was lighter in that last letter. More hesitant. Like his hand was shaking. Or like someone was watching, making sure he included every authentication marker."
"Because they were," Dmitri said flatly. "Court's interrogation is thorough. They extracted every memory Connor had of you, Jasper. Every inside joke. Every code. Then used it to forge the perfect letter while the real Connor suffered in a cell, knowing his compliance kept Celeste alive."
Through our bond, Cole's horror spiked. His medical mind cataloged torture techniques that could break an Alpha's will. Asher's fury crystallized into something colder—tactical awareness of an enemy who'd spent months, maybe years, planning this.
My rage became something else. Something that made my wolf go quiet. Watchful. Patient.
Court had made a mistake. Shown their hand. Revealed how much they wanted Kara. How carefully they'd planned. How far they'd go.
Which meant we knew exactly how far we needed to go to get her back.
"We're twenty minutes out," Asher said, his Alpha authority flooding our bond. "Dmitri, you and Jasper hang back at the rally point. Ethan, current intel?"
Ethan's voice came crisp and professional. "Thermal imaging shows concentrated heat signatures in the underground levels. At least fifteen individuals. Surface buildings look abandoned, but fresh tire tracks—multiple vehicles in the last forty-eight hours."
"Guard rotations?" Cole asked.
"Every four hours. Next shift change in..." Ethan paused. "Thirty-seven minutes. That's your window."
My wolf stirred with purpose rather than panic. Thirty-seven minutes. More than enough if everything went perfectly.
Which it wouldn't.
"Blake," Asher said quietly. "I need you to promise something."
Through our bond, I felt his fear—not for himself, but for what I might do when we found Kara. If she was hurt. If they'd touched her. If our child—
"Promise me you won't go feral," he continued. "That you'll wait for my signal. That you'll let me lead, because if you lose control, if you shift in those corridors and bring the whole facility down, Kara dies. Our child dies. Understand?"
I wanted to argue. My wolf howled for blood, for vengeance, for the throats of everyone who'd dared touch what was ours.
But Asher was right. He was always right.
"I promise," I ground out. "But when you do give the signal... I'm not leaving anyone alive."