Blake stared up at the moon.
Just days away from being at her fullest, she hung low over the forest, skimming the tops of the evergreens below and illuminating the sky around her with a soft, silvery halo of light. Blake had always loved this part of the forest, especially at night.
Within the quiet clearing, the remnants of his father's past crumbled slowly into their natural surroundings, reclaimed by the fauna it had once displaced. The majestic oak under which he lay stretched its branches upwards in a futile attempt to brush against the orb that filled the night sky, and the brook turned silver as the soft light danced and played across the surface of the ever moving waters.
He had never been particularly religious. But he considered himself a spiritual man, guided by his bonds with his wolf, and he'd always believed that the Moon Goddess was on his side.
Looking down on him with gentle approval, she'd granted him the powers of an Alpha, fulfilling his birthright the day he'd taken his up his father's mantle and claimed Blackridge as his own.
He stared up at the moon’s majesty and let the peace she brought with her wash over him. The stars that shone so brightly in the velvety darkness paled in comparison to her beauty and, as always, he felt a pull towards the light of their Goddess.
Deep in his subconscious, his mind continued to recoil as wave upon wave of turmoil crashed against the walls of his control, but her presence calmed his wolf, and allowed him the respite to think clearly without fighting his every emotion.
Basking in her grace, he rolled the events of the last few days over and over in his head. The call from Issac at the border. The shock of coming face to face with a rival he was bound not to compete against. The pain lancing through his heart as he watched them reunite...
And, most of all, Hannah's accusing stare, her eyes full of bewilderment and betrayal. It was the last glimpse he'd had of her face, and it was never strayed far from his thoughts.
He had failed her.
The beautiful red head had stepped into his life so abruptly, turning his carefully constructed world upside down and stealing his heart. More than that, she had lit a fire within him, forcing himself to question his own concept of loyalty and duty. She'd even touched his wolf, who had never before been willing to contemplate taking a mate that hadn't been chosen for him by the Goddess herself.
He’d resisted their attraction for as long as possible. Consumed by the memory of chasing his selfish desires all those years ago, and the torn, ravaged, broken pack he'd returned to; he'd kept her at arms length. Justifying his actions with empty words about duty, honour and responsibility, he'd ignored his instincts and denied his heart.
The more time had passed, the more he had been drawn to her, unable to resist her carefree laughter and expressive emerald eyes. Eventually, it had become too hard to stay away, the desire too strong and, too late, he’d realised she had entwined herself irrevocably in his heart.
He would never be able to look at the autumn trees again without seeing the fire in her hair, never hear the falling rain without remembering the sound of her laughter nor enjoy the scent of apples without his heart constricting.
The pain he felt at the thought of her leaving him for another was nothing compared to the guilt that flooded his veins and scorched him from the inside out. Every promise he'd offered had been broken. Every move to protect her had come to naught. Even now she hadn't left of her own accord. She had been taken. Torn from him and hidden away, enduring Goddess knows what.
Rothan would eventually move on. Return to his patient vigil, waiting for a mate that may never materialise. Wolves were too practical to wallow in their misery for long.
Are you done? Rothan huffed, proving his point. This isn't getting her back, you know.
Blake felt his wolf’s irritation in the back of his mind but ignored him, far too deep into his own melancholy to pay attention. He gazed silently up at his Goddess and wondered if she still looked down on him favourably. If this was a punishment for his earlier mistakes, she was cruel indeed.
Rothan snorted in his head, bored of listening to his self-pity. She doesn't work that way.
How do you know? Blake argued, the despair eating at his heart. We screwed up. We failed her.
The moon Goddess, or Hannah? Rothan snapped, impatient to get moving.
Take your pick, Blake countered, pulling out their memory of a terrified Omega slipping into his study earlier that day as an example of their failure. She'd approached the Beta, carrying a square of folded paper in her trembling hand as though it were a live snake.
Blake had been distracted by the large map on his desk, each of the rogues trails clearly marked, including the scentless trail Issac had found.
Alex was busy matching them to the abandoned ruins he'd plotted days before, trying to triangulate where they could be keeping Hannah.
He hadn’t noticed the Omega until she began whispering urgently in the Beta's ear.
Marcus let out a soft snarl and dismissed her immediately.
Looking up, Blake had wrinkled his brow at his Beta, who'd silently handed over the paper with a grimace. The Omega had found it in the back pocket of Hannah's jeans. Another death threat sent Goddess knows when. One she'd hidden from him.
Rothan snorted again, this time his irritation towards Blake mingled with the remnants of the fury they'd both felt when they'd read the ugly missive.
Why didn't she come straight to us? Blake bit out in frustration.
She didn't want to worry us.
Blake bit off a slew of curse words. He knew Rothan was right. And there lay the real problem.
She already believed she was a burden on the pack, and he could almost hear her defending her decision in his head, citing all the other prevalent but unimportant duties he had to attend to... duties he wouldn't have thought twice about prioritising just a few weeks ago.
But, damn it! How was he supposed to protect her if she didn't let him in? He would have made sure someone stayed by her side at all times. He would have prevented her from leaving the house without him. He would have –
She would have hated that, his wolf pointed out.
Blake added a few more curses to his repertoire, filling the air with a satisfying litany of expletives.
Feel better? His wolf asked curiously.
Not really, Blake replied, hating the sour note he heard in his voice. Rothan was right. No amount of self-recrimination would bring Hannah back to them.
He looked up at the moon one last time, seeking comfort in the calm she so freely offered, then shifted back into his wolf. His thick black fur shone jet black in the moonlight and he stretched, feeling the last of the tension leave his body as his powerful muscles flexed luxuriously.
When I find whoever's behind this, he added. I'm going to tear them apart.
Much better, Rothan said, his approval radiating through their shared consciousness.
One last glance around the clearing confirmed that his quiet contemplation had remained relatively unobserved... as long as he didn't count his silent but ever present shadow, Samuel.
The old wolf had trailed him all the way from the house. Stubborn as always, the seasoned warrior tracked him doggedly, always close by, but keeping a respectful distance to allow his Alpha the illusion of solitude.
Blake had found he lacked the energy to order the veteran wolf away, and Rothan approved of his dedication. It was easier to settle for ignoring him as he began to make his way back towards the centre of the pack, two deadly shadows slipping between the trees on silent paws.
On his way back to the pack house he continued to turn the events of the last few hours over in his mind, taking advantage of Samuel's vigilant presence to keep one eye out for danger as he focused his thoughts inwards, seeking out the pieces of the puzzle, trying to fit them together to form a clear timeline he could follow.
The rogues had snatched Hannah a little after noon. They had fled east across the border using a hidden tunnel, now under constant surveillance by Blake's warriors.
Blake had tracked down the rogue, Esme, two hours later where she'd handed over the ransom note.
Alex had confirmed she'd crossed over about a mile south of the tunnel leading Blake to believe their camp was most likely in that direction as well. Interestingly, both trails seemed to head away from the Elmwood borders, an unexpected stumbling block for Blake's theory of an alliance with Syrus.
After carefully examining the two notes side by side, Barnaby had declared with confidence that the threatening letters Hannah had been receiving since her arrival were not penned by the same hand as the ransom note – not too surprising though, they were more likely delivered by the traitor than an outsider, so why wouldn't they be written by them as well?
As an added complication to the already tense situation, Maclerie had reacted exactly as expected when he found out his niece had been receiving threats from within the pack during her stay there.
“Hypocrisy!” the Scotsman had bellowed, mindless of the reactions of the wolves around him. “You dare to argue against her leaving with her own family when she's clearly no safer under your protection?” His lip curled upward into a sneer, clearly under the impression Blake's efforts had fallen far short of his expectations.
“Watch yourself,” Blake had snapped, feeling the bite of Maclerie's accusation.
But Angus was in full stride and, once unleashed, there was no stopping him. “She was no safer here than she was in the woods!” he continued, waving his arms about theatrically. “Even now, when she's been kidnapped right under your nose, you sit about doing nothing to convince me you're capable of dealing with this.” He jumped up and headed rapidly towards the door. “Enough of this nonsense. I'll find her myself!”
“Stop him,” Blake ordered Marcus and the big man stepped in front of the doorway, his arms folded and a look of resolute determination on his face, blocking the Scotsman's retreat. "You're going nowhere."
Maclerie froze and turned back towards the Alpha. "She's my niece," he hissed, his eyes darkening. "And my son's mate. Nothing will stop me from getting her back. Certainly not you."
The silence loomed over the study like an executioners axe and all eyes fell upon the two wolves in the centre of the room.
"Maclerie," Blake warned with a soft menace to his voice.
"Lair-" the arrogant Scotsman automatically began to correct him. Then he caught sight of the Alpha's eyes and even he halted in the face of the warning swirling in their depths. Guest or no guest, the wolf behind those eyes promised death any and all who questioned his authority.
For the first time since his arrival, Angus Maclerie registered that he had come precariously close to crossing a very fine line. Finally heeding his wolf's frantic warnings, he fell reluctantly silent.
No one moved.
It was Dylan who had stepped between the two wolves, breaking the tension. “That's enough. We are guests here,” the young wolf emphasised, careful to keep his voice even.
Although his comment had been directed towards his father, it had served as a subtle reminder to Blake that he too needed to observe the ancient rituals they'd recited at the border and the Alpha stood down, reluctantly impressed by the young wolf's diplomacy.
Angus had glared at his son a moment, his eyes slightly glazed as they argued furiously over their private link. Eventually, the Scotsman had relaxed, a sickly and rather unconvincing smile replacing his earlier scowl. It didn't go unnoticed to the Alpha that the coldness in his eyes remained unwavering as he stumbled over the expected apology.
Blake grunted, but let it go.
“Why aren't you out there searching for my niece?” Angus had asked, in a stilted voice, the effort of remaining polite clearly causing him some pain.
“Where exactly would you like us to start looking?” Marcus had snapped back, the Beta feeding off his Alpha's supressed fury. “These forests stretch for miles in all directions and we don't have enough information to go wandering about blindly.”
“You must know something!” Angus growled, ignoring the restraining hand his son placed on his shoulder.
“Maybe you can help fill in some of the blanks,” Blake had suggested in a soft but dangerous voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“You can start by telling us why Esme recognised your name this morning,” Marcus interjected, following his Alpha's line of thought.
“Who?” The Scotsman's brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
“The rogue at the stream.”
His face cleared. “No idea,” he said briskly, rolling his shoulders back.
Marcus raised his eyebrows. “You don't find it odd that a complete stranger to these parts would be known by the local rogues?”
“He could have been one of the group that attacked us,” Dylan suggested after another brief but silent exchange with his father. “Maybe this F character is out for revenge because she got away from them? Maybe they meant to ransom her all along? Ele – Hannah," he corrected himself, "could have given them our names when she was their captive.”
"Do you know why the rogues would target your niece?" Blake asked Maclerie, frustrated by their reasonable explanation.
"I'm rich," the Scotsman shrugged. "Rogues will do anything for a ransom. But we don't even know if this kidnapping is connected to the ambush. He's not asking me for the money, after all. It seems more likely the answer to all this lies with you, Alpha Blake."
The collection of wolves in the study rumbled dangerously, and Blake waved one hand in a calming motion, his eyes fixed on Maclerie's unpleasant sneer.
"We need a plan," the Scotsman continued, showing remarkable unconcern amongst the hostility directed towards him. "A clear idea of what we're going to do when we find this bastard!”
“I already know what I'm going to do, Angus,” Blake told him bleakly.
“At the moment, we can't do anything,” Marcus said, moving in rather quickly before the Scotsman could open his mouth to argue again. “Our only option is to wait for the next note from our would be extortionists.”
“The mad rogue!” Alex spoke up suddenly, jabbing his finger at the signature on the bottom of the note.
All four men jumped in surprise. The Gamma had been so unusually quiet, they'd forgotten he was in the room. Blake waited patiently a moment, but no further information appeared forthcoming.
“For the love of the Goddess, Alex,” Marcus admonished. “Talk in full sentences!”
Alex looked puzzled and Marcus sighed impatiently. “Start with the subject,” he directed slowly. “Then the verb and see where the sentence goes from there.”
The Gamma growled softly and opened his mouth to protest, but caught the look on his Alpha's face and thought better of it. “The mad rogue Amara killed,” he tried to explain quickly. “Before he died, he told Hannah he'd been kicked out of his home by someone called Fenrik. From his ramblings it sounded like this rogue was in charge of a whole group of them. The mad rogue implied he might know quite a bit about recent events.” He scratched at the pale stubble covering his chin. “I didn't think much of it at the time, but...”
“It would be a hell of a coincidence if it's not the same rogue.” Marcus murmured, his eyes wide as realisation set in.
"Have you heard the name Fenrik before?" Blake asked Angus in a soft voice, internally berating himself for not making the connection earlier.
Maclerie slowly shook his head; a troubled, almost wary look gracing his features.
Dylan shot the lieutenants a look of confusion. “Who's the mad rogue and how does he fit in to all this?” he asked with a furrowed brow.
“Oh, he chased Hannah through the forest a couple of weeks ago,” Alex answered obligingly before Marcus could intercede. “Nearly caught her too, but don't worry, we got to him first.”
There was a moments silence.
“Tell me, Hunter,” Angus said testily. “Has there been a single moment since my niece has been in your pack that her life hasn't been threatened in some way?”
The conversation had taken a sharp turn downhill from there, and Blake had fled the house shortly after, desperate to avoid further igniting his temper and giving in to his overwhelming urge to break something. Especially as Rothan was all in favour of the something being Laird Angus Maclerie.
You should call Asher, Rothan suggested now as they padded back towards the village. If anyone has any information on this rogue, he'll know about it.
He'll be half-way back to his pack by now, Blake said uncertainly. On Blake's insistence, he and Asher had tackled the thorny issue of Sky and Aunt Sarah's evacuation shortly after the war council, before Sarah could get wind of their plan and argue too strenuously against it.
Bracing themselves for an uphill battle, the brother's had joined forces to emphasise the danger Sky would be in as a valuable hostage if the rogues were successful crossing the borders, highlighting how her capture would put more than just Blake's pack in jeopardy.
Much to their everlasting surprise, Sarah had agreed with them, even going so far as to insist on an immediate departure.
Once Asher had finished picking his jaw up off the floor, he'd hurried to get them away before their aunt changed her mind, and Blake had concentrated his efforts for the next few hours on making sure no hint of their unexpected visitors reached her ears before their departure. If Sarah knew about the Macleries, there would have been no shifting her.
The whole exchange had run so smoothly, Blake was wary of risking contact before Asher had them safely settled. Despite his reservations however, as soon as he returned to the house, he took his wolf's advice and picked up the phone.
"Fenrik. That slimy son of a –" Asher growled as soon as he heard the name.
"You know him?" Blake exclaimed, though he wondered why he was so surprised. His brother knew everyone.
Told you, Rothan smirked in his head.
"We've never had the pleasure of a face to face," Asher conceded. "But his reputation precedes him."
There was a silence on Asher's end for a moment, the only sounds the faint chatter of humanity in the background. It sounded like his brother had booked the three of them into a bed and breakfast overnight, one with a late night bar by the sounds of raucous laughter drifting through his ear piece.
"He's a mercenary for hire," Asher continued after a long pause. "A rogue, of course, but very, very skilled at staying off the radar. I've been wanting to chat with him for a while, but I've never been able to pin down his movements." There was a keenness to his voice that suggested Asher had been seeking Fenrick for reasons more than mere curiosity.
"You'd better be quick then," Blake growled. "He's on my radar now." There was another pause, the strident crackle of a poor signal interrupting their conversation.
"I know you want to rip his head off," Asher's soft drawl came over the line. "But hold off on that until we have a chance to question him. I have a feeling he'll be an absolute mine of useful information."
A raucous shriek of laughter cut across the line, swiftly followed by a male's booming laugh and the slam of a heavy door.
"I have a feeling I'm going to get yelled at in the morning," Asher muttered, before directing his rueful tone back towards his phone. "I owe you an apology, Blake," he admitted. "Had I connected the dots, I might have recognised our man in black sooner."
Blake digested that, his desire for vengeance warring against his need for answers. "You're coming back then?" he asked eventually.
"Yes, I think so. While I have no doubt you'd be perfectly capable of dealing with this on your own, I think Fenrik and I are long overdue for an honest chat."
In other circumstances Blake would have shown some curiosity about Asher's keen interest in the mercenary, but Hannah's face flashed continuously before his eyes, erasing his ability to focus on anything else.
"We're closer to my border than yours,” Asher continued. “So we'll wait here overnight until my men get to us. They'll escort Sarah and Sky the rest of the way and I'll head back to you."
Blake heard more muffled voices on the other end of the line, rapidly moving feet and the sound of Asher closing a door behind him.
"I haven't told them," his brother confirmed, his voice softer as he tried avoid being overheard. "They'd only insist on returning with me."
“Wise decision,” Blake agreed.
“I'll have to leave the car," Asher warned. "It might take me a while to get back... Try not to kill him before I get there," he added dryly.
Blake grunted non-commitedly and ended the call, cutting off the drunken giggles of another overly soused female. With a sigh, he returned to the confines of the study, and the constant irritation that was Angus Maclerie.
He's right, you know, Rothan told him as he opened the door. Ash is definitely going to get yelled at in the morning.
The next note arrived the following day. This time, to everyone's relief, they had refrained from gifting the Alpha with another lock of Hannah's hair.
It didn't escape Blake's notice that the messenger was once again female; an older rogue that reluctantly introduced herself as Neve.
It was a clever decision, given the Blackridge packs laws. One that not only highlighted Fenrik's patience - he must have studied Blake's pack for some time - but also his intelligence. He knew a woman had a better chance of survival having calculated Blake's reactions carefully.
“Blake,” the letter began, just as obnoxious as the last. “See how easily your name rolls off the tongue without all those cumbersome titles?"
Maybe not so intelligent, his wolf growled sceptically, his hackles rising.
On the contrary, Blake disagreed with sudden clarity. He wants us angry. The angrier we are, the less clearly we'll think. He's very clever.
He's very dangerous, Rothan warned as Blake continued to read.
"Glad to see you took my warning seriously, friend. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of reassuring your little redhead that you were cooperating and it was looking likely she might actually make it home in one piece.
Please don't do anything to prove me wrong. I hate being disappointed.
I'll come straight to the point. About a mile out from your borders following the eastern stream, there's an exceptionally tall tree that’s a magnet for lightning. You can't miss it. If you're lucky it might still be smouldering.
Turns out, standing out from the crowd has its distinct disadvantages, as I'm sure you're becoming painfully aware.
Follow the trail that runs alongside it. You'll know when to stop. I left you a very special gift there.
No need to bring any money with you. You can transfer what I'm owed on the laptop you’ll find waiting alongside my gift.
Oh, and Blake? Come alone.
I'll have men watching you so, don't try anything heroic, There's a good chap. Your little redhead is counting on you. As soon as the transfer is complete you'll be sent a set of coordinates to her location.
It appears she has something of a temper, so I wouldn't advise keeping her waiting too long.
Sending regards of the most amiable nature, F.”