The sound of clinking glasses and low conversation filled the evening air. The delegates gathered in clusters across the pack hall, wolves from various territories exchanging pleasantries, power glinting in every narrowed eye and measured smile.

Luther stood with two of the younger Alphas, discussing border negotiations, when he felt the familiar presence before he saw him.

His father.

The older Alpha’s heavy steps came to a stop beside him. Luther didn’t look at him at first. They hadn’t spoken since that night. Not since he found out his father had tried to sell her.

But the silence between them had grown too thick to ignore.

“Luther,” his father said quietly, voice gruff with the weight of age and command. “Walk with me.”

Luther didn’t hesitate. He nodded a polite excuse to the delegates and followed his father out of the main hall and into the corridor that overlooked the training yard.

The silence stretched until his father stopped walking, looking out over the grounds. “I’m cancelling the deal with Merek.”

Luther froze.

“What?”

His father sighed, looking tired but resolute. “If you want to keep your pack filthy, that’s your decision. But I won’t hand her over to Merek. Since you’re so against it.”

Luther’s heart thundered in his chest.

“She’s not going anywhere?”

His father shook his head. “No. You’ve made it clear how much that girl matters to you.”

Luther exhaled sharply, the breath shaking from his lungs like a pressure valve finally released.

“There’s more,” his father added. “Tomorrow, I’m making the announcement. I’m retiring. The pack will be yours by the end of the week.”

The words hit him like a lightning strike, electric, real.

Alpha. He was going to be Alpha.

But more than that, Trash was staying. No one would take her from him. No one could.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely, still processing the shift that had just occurred in his entire world.

His father grunted and walked back toward the hall. Luther didn’t follow.

Instead, he turned and bolted toward the Pack House, excitement bubbling under his skin.

He was going to tell her. Tell her everything. She didn’t have to be scared anymore. Didn’t have to wonder.

She would be his.

By the end of the week, everything would change.

He reached the house, taking the stairs to the basement two at a time.

“Trash,” he called softly as he descended. “Trash, you’re not going anywhere. My father is stepping down. I will be appointed Alpha, and I’ll make you mine, officially.”

He stepped into the dim basement, a smile halfway forming, then stopped cold.

The bedding was torn apart. The pieces of old clothing and discarded bedding were thrown around.

“Trash?” he called again, louder now.

Nothing.

His eyes scanned the room; it looked the same, but the air smelled wrong. Empty.

His stomach dropped.

No, no, no.

He ran upstairs, each step landing like thunder tearing through the house.

Not in the kitchen.

Not in the storage rooms.

Not even in the damn laundry closet she used to hide in.

She wasn’t there.

She was gone.

Luther’s knees nearly buckled as the realisation slammed into his chest. The scent was faint, masked, like she’d used something. Bloodleaf.

“Trash!” he roared, the sound cracking the walls of the house.

Then he threw his head back and howled, the sound primal, panicked, and furious.

Trash is gone. She’s gone. Find her. He sent to his patrol through the pack link.
She’s not in the house. Track her scent now. She couldn’t have gotten far.
Don’t let her get far.

He didn’t wait. He shifted, the pain of it nothing compared to the knife turning in his gut.

And then he ran, the wind screaming past his ears, his wolves at his back, the fading scent of her calling him like a phantom in the trees.

She was out there. She ran, and he would find her...

She spoke. Trash spoke.

And then she jumped.

Luther stood frozen, her voice echoing in his head louder than the roar of the waterfall.

"No."

One word.

One goddamn word. After all these years. After everything. After all the time he spent trying to get her to respond, to acknowledge him, she could speak. She had always been able to.

And she chose not to. Not with him.

That thought burned hotter than the blood rushing through his veins.

She chose not to speak to him. Not even once.

He took a step forward, staring into the churning depths below.

She’s not dead.

He felt it. Deep in the marrow of his bones, he would know if she was gone. The bond might have been one-sided, broken, and shattered, but he would know if she had died.

She’s alive.

"FIND HER!" he roared, turning to the patrols and warriors that stood dumbfounded behind him. "I don’t care how long it takes, find her!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Merek.

The other alpha was watching him with a calm, knowing smirk. The kind that said I touched something of yours.

Luther’s lip curled, a warning growl starting in his chest. Merek simply turned and vanished into the trees.

Luther mind-linked Cassian, voice sharp as broken glass.

Trash is gone, she ran, then jumped off the cliff near the waterfall. But she’s not dead, I know it. Find her. Bring her back. Don’t hurt her, Cassian. I swear to the gods, if you lay a hand on her—
Just bring her back before Merek finds her.

Luther, you really want to bring her back? Why? Cassian’s response was curt, already running.

“Cass, just fucking find her.” He yelled.

Luther stepped forward, the wind tugging at his shirt as he looked down again. Spray from the waterfall hit his face. The water far below still churned turbulent and unforgiving.

You won’t get far.

She didn’t know the land. She didn’t know what was out there. And she was bleeding, he could smell it. Wounded and probably slow.

She was his. She thought she could run? She thought she could just leave him?

After everything he did for her? After everything he gave her?

He clenched his jaw, muscles twitching beneath his skin.

Trash had made a mistake.

A big one. But he’d fix it. He’d find her. He’d bring her back.

And this time… she would talk to him again.

One way or another.