Dexmon had not been able to stop thinking about her. His mind kept dragging him back to the clearing, to blood on his hands and the weight of her in his arms.
Then panic twisted in his chest without warning. Sharp. Sudden.
It was not his.
His wolf howled as the feeling shifted, tightening into resolve.
He entered the healing wing a minute later, and caught her scent immediately.
It hit him like a physical blow.
No. He hadn't imagined it earlier. It was real. Too real.
Healers bowed as Dexmon passed, sensing the shift in him and stepping quickly out of his way.
When he reached the guarded chamber, the sentry snapped to attention and bowed. Dexmon didn't acknowledge him and pushed the door open.
Her scent flooded the room.
The bed, however, was empty.
He mindlinked immediately.
Dexmon:The girl. Where is she?
Alaric:In the chambers assigned to her. I checked on her an hour ago. Her silver poisoning is more severe than I thought. Her wolf is suppressed. She shouldn't be conscious for days.
Dexmon:I am standing in those chambers. She is not here.
Dexmon swallowed and forced his wolf down. It took more effort than he would ever admit.
Footsteps thundered in the corridor as Alaric and Hyran arrived, both slightly breathless. They took in the empty bed, the blood-spotted sheets, the open door.
Dexmon turned away.
"Come with me," he said flatly.
It wasn't a request.
He followed her scent into the corridor, then another. The trail was clean. Purposeful. As if she'd known exactly where she was going.
It ended at a tapestry.
Dexmon yanked it aside.
A hidden lever. Pulled.
A narrow door stood ajar.
"How would she have known about this passage?" Alaric asked, frowning as they stepped inside.
"Perhaps she was an omega servant," Hyran offered quietly.
Alaric shook his head. "No. Even my most senior healers aren't aware of these tunnels."
Dexmon didn't answer.
He followed her scent deeper, through a labyrinth of old stone and narrow turns. Tunnels so ancient and complex that even seasoned guards avoided them. Most had collapsed over time.
Yet her trail cut through them cleanly.
The most direct path.
Dexmon's jaw tightened.
These were evacuation tunnels. Known only to the royal line.
They emerged at last into open air.
Her scent was still there, mixed with blood.
"Be ready to open a portal on my signal," Dexmon said.
He stepped forward and shifted.
Black fur tore free as his wolf, Aegon, hit the forest floor at full speed.
The hunt had begun.