Adrian
Three fucking days.
I slam my phone down on the desk, the crack of plastic against wood echoing through my office. The screen glares back at me, mocking me with its emptiness. No calls. No texts. Nothing.
"Three fucking days. Not a word," I growl, pacing toward the window.
The evening shadows stretch across the floor, darkening the already somber mood of the room. Outside, the compound bustles with activity, wolves going about their duties, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.
She better have a damn good explanation, Nox snarls in my mind, his presence a constant pressure against my consciousness.
In the corner, Killian hunches over his laptop, the blue glow illuminating his face in the dim room. His fingers fly across the keyboard with practiced precision, his usual smirk replaced by a hard line of concentration.
"Still nothing from the number that sent those photos," he says without looking up. "Whoever it is, they're using some serious encryption."
Jax leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest. His eyes track my movements, body tense like he's preparing to either restrain me or join me in destroying something. With Jax, it could go either way.
"Maybe we should consider sending someone to check on her," he suggests, voice carefully neutral.
I whip around, fixing him with a cold stare that would make most wolves cower. "You think I haven't thought of that?" The words come out like ice. "I tried getting her little friend to tell us where she is, and she won't fucking budge."
We should have gone after her already. She's OURS, Nox rages, clawing at my restraint.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots, welcoming the sharp pain as a distraction from the hollow ache in my chest.
She's ours, and someone is watching her.
The door swings open as Asher strides in, tablet in hand, his expression grim. "The patrols found another one of Amos's men near the eastern border. That's the third this week."
My fists clench at my sides, knuckles white with tension. "He's up to something."
The sudden buzz of my phone cuts through the tension. I snatch it up, hope flaring hot and bright before being doused by the reality of what I'm seeing. Another fucking photo.
"Another one," I say, voice dropping dangerously low as I turn the screen toward the others.
It's her—my little wolf—through a window, clearly taken without her knowledge. She looks pale, exhausted, dark circles under her eyes like she hasn't slept in days. The sight of her makes my chest constrict painfully.
FIND HER. NOW, Nox demands, his rage feeding my own until I can barely contain it.
My grip tightens around the phone until I hear the plastic creak in protest.
Killian moves quickly to my side, professional curiosity overriding his usual laid-back demeanor. "Let me see that. Maybe there's something in the background we can use."
"Whoever's sending these is playing with fire," I whisper, the threat in my voice unmistakable.
Asher's expression darkens as he studies the photo. "You think it's Amos?"
My eyes flash gold as Nox pushes closer to the surface, demanding control. "It has to be," I say, feeling my canines lengthen slightly. "And I'm going to tear his fucking throat out."
"Screwing with you has always been his favorite game," Asher says, disgust evident in his tone.
Jax pushes off the wall, anger radiating from him in waves. "Except this time, he's including our Luna as one of his pawns."
Killian slams his fists on the desk, startling us all. "FUCK! Sorry, Alpha, I got nothing."
The need to tear someone apart, to feel flesh give way beneath my claws, is overwhelming. "His men should know where she is. If it's them sending the photos."
Jax meets my gaze, understanding immediately. "Interrogation room?"
A sadistic smile spreads across my face, Nox's bloodlust merging with my own. "Interrogation room."
The interrogation room reeks of fresh fear and blood. Two men sit tied to chairs in the center, naked, bloodied, and terrified. Just as they should be.
I circle them slowly, deliberately, letting my footsteps echo in the concrete chamber. They flinch with each step, their fear a tangible thing that feeds the predator within me.
Asher crosses to where Jamison has laid out tools on a metal table. The sound of each instrument hitting the metal surface rings out like a promise of pain. Jax leans against the wall, face impassive but eyes alert, watching every reaction from our prisoners.
"Let's try this again," I say, my voice eerily calm. "What are Amos's plans?"
Break his fingers. One by one, Nox suggests, eager for violence.
The first prisoner spits blood onto the floor, defiance flashing in his swollen eyes. "Go to hell."
I smile, the kind of smile that has made grown men piss themselves. "He seems to think I'm asking," I say to Asher.
Asher picks up a pair of pliers, weighing them in his hand as he approaches with practiced ease. "You know," he says, voice casual, almost conversational, "the last guy who took that tone with Adrian lasted about twenty minutes before begging us to kill him."
The door opens, and Killian enters with his tablet, eyes scanning the screen. "Still nothing on those photos," he reports. "But I did find something interesting about these two." He nods toward the prisoners. "They're not just Amos's men. They're his scouts. They only get sent out for special assignments."
I turn to the second prisoner, who's been suspiciously quiet. "Your friend here is brave," I say, moving closer until I can smell the acrid stench of his fear. "Are you brave too?"
I can smell his fear. He'll break, Nox observes with satisfaction.
The second man trembles visibly, eyes darting between me and the others like a cornered rabbit.
"We were just scouting," he stammers, voice cracking. "I swear."
I lean in until my face is inches from his. "Scouting for what?"
"Shut the fuck up, man!" the first prisoner shouts, struggling against his restraints.
"Scouting. For. What?" I repeat, each word a sharp command.
The second prisoner's resolve crumbles before my eyes. "I-I don't know! He just told us to watch your borders."
"You pathetic rat!" his companion spits.
"He's going to fucking kill us if we don't tell him anything," the second man cries, desperation evident.
The first prisoner sneers despite his battered face. "You moron. He's going to kill us anyway."
The second prisoner snaps his head toward me, the remaining color draining from his already pale face as the truth of his situation dawns on him.
I can't help the dark chuckle that escapes me. "He's right," I shrug, picking up a scalpel from the tool table and examining its gleaming edge. "Either way, you won't be leaving this room alive. The difference is how quick your death will be." I point to the first prisoner with the tip of the blade. "You see, this guy is going to die a very slow, very painful, very gory death." I turn my attention back to the second man, raising an eyebrow. "How would you like to die?"
Before he can answer, the door to the interrogation room swings open with a heavy bang. Carter enters, dragging someone by their hair. The person is struggling, clawing at his hand, but Carter's grip remains relentless.
I turn, annoyed at the interruption, but my expression quickly shifts to shock as Carter throws the person at my feet. Asher and Jax immediately move to flank me, while Killian steps back, hand moving to his weapon.
It's a woman, disheveled and furious. As she looks up, her face comes into view, and my eyebrows shoot up in recognition.
Well, well, well... Nox purrs, suddenly very interested.
A slow, gleeful smile spreads across my face as I stare down at her. "You."
The woman glares up at me, defiance blazing in her eyes despite her vulnerable position. Blood trickles from a cut on her lip, and her clothes are torn and dirty. But there's no fear in her gaze—only rage and determination.
And just like that, everything changes. The prisoners, Amos's plans, even the photos of my little wolf—they all fade to background noise as I focus entirely on the unexpected gift Carter has just delivered to my feet.
Because this woman knows where my mate is. I'd bet my life on it.
And she's going to tell me, one way or another.