*~Caspian’s POV~*
Pain.
That’s the only word that can sum up what we’ve been through this past week. The pack still stands—strong, but without Hazel, everything feels hollow. Out of place.
Especially Cayden.
My brother hasn’t slept, hasn’t rested for even a mont. Day and night, he’s been scouring country after country, leading patrols until the entire team collapsed from exhaustion. Yet he kept going. Searching for them.
And now, finally, he’s back ho... and he’s summoned .
I sit at my desk, the small velvet ring box in front of . My fingers close tightly around the wedding ring I gave Hazel, my chest twisting painfully. Cyrius must have ripped it from her finger before taking her away. The thought alone makes my blood run hot. But as long as I can sense her alive—her and her babies..there’s still a flicker of hope in . That tiny shimr keeps from falling apart completely.
Carefully, I place the ring back in its case, set it on the table, adjust my tie, and steady myself.
When I peek over the banister, I see Cayden below. His fury practically vibrates through the air, making the room itself feel unsafe. Everyone keeps their distance
our parents, the pack mbers, even the elders. They’ve all learned by now that trying to reason with him only makes things worse.
"Can’t you follow a simple command? I said I need more beer!" he roars at the she-wolves attending him, his voice cracking like a whip. Then—smash. The glass shatters against the wall, and the few nearby wolves flinch back in terror.
I descend the stairs slowly. One of the she-wolves stumbles under the force of his rage, and I catch her arm just before she hits the floor.
Before I can take another step, Leon grips my wrist.
"You don’t want to go near him right now," he mutters under his breath. "He’s... raging."
I gently pull my hand free. "Then I guess I’m walking straight into the fire," I murmur, brushing past him.
I take the seat directly across from my brother.
"Hello, brother," I say evenly.
He doesn’t even glance at , his attention fixed on the liquor in his grip. His face twists with a faint grimace..whether from the bitterness of the drink or the bitterness eating him alive, I can’t tell. He looks rougher than I’ve ever seen him.
"How are the vampires?" he asks abruptly, ignoring my greeting.
"Hello, brother," I repeat, pouring myself a drink.
His jaw tightens. "How are the vampires?" he says again, more forcefully.
I sip my beer, refusing to let him rush . "How are you doing? How’s the search?"
That’s the mont his temper snaps.
Glass crashes against the table, liquor spilling everywhere. "Do you think I’m here to joke with you, Caspian? I asked you a question! How is the situation with the vampires?" His eyes burn into , sharp and accusing.
I et his glare without flinching. "If you think my questions are irrelevant, why should I take yours seriously? I asked about your health, Cayden. Isn’t that what brothers are supposed to do?"
"I don’t care about my health right now," he growls. "What I care about is finding my wife, my child, and keeping my pack alive. So I’ll ask you one last ti—are the vampires under control?"
I set my glass down. "They’re fine. Although..." My gaze drops briefly to the table. "They’ve multiplied. Their numbers reached a hundred."
His brow furrows. "And?"
"We buried them."
"All of them?"
I nod, lifting my beer again. His eyes follow the glass with a flicker of jealousy..he’s already smashed his own.
How is your search?" I asked quietly, watching my brother’s face. "Since you’ve co back empty-handed again, I can guess your answer."
He looked at with a sharp twist of his features. "No clues. Nothing. And I swear..if I find that Cyrius bastard, I will murder him in cold blood, tear off his head, and burn him alive. I’ll make every single one of the people working with him...every last one, watch as I do it. Then I’ll burn them too."
"Cayden...calm down," I said, my tone steady but firm. "Which countries have you searched?"
"London. Germany. Every other European country I could think of. Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"What about France?" I asked.
He blinked. "France?"
"Yes. He’s ntioned that place before. Went there once with his father, a year before we daggered him. It’s one of the few places he’s actually familiar with. Have you checked it?"
His eyes narrowed in thought. "I’ll add it to the list. I’ll go there tomorrow."
I leaned forward, eting his gaze. "Cayden, you need to be smart about this. Control your rage. Think with your head, not your anger."
His jaw tightened. "Be careful with your words, brother. I am not in the mood for your mockery."
"I’m not mocking you," I replied evenly. "Hazel is my wife. And even though the children aren’t mine, I swore to protect them with my life. If you hadn’t told to stay here and protect your pack, do you think I wouldn’t be out there searching for her too? I’m entrusting this search to you—so I need you to think clearly. Do you understand?"
Around us, the pack watched in stunned silence. Cayden’s temper had already erupted earlier—he’d yelled, smashed the table—but now he was... actually talking. Not roaring. Not destroying everything in reach. Just talking. It was strange enough to draw stares.
Then the door opened.
Aurora walked in, a small group of witches trailing behind her. These were the ones she had been working to recruit over the past few weeks....witches Cyrius had once used, now left holess and broken on the streets of New Orleans. She’d taken them in, offered protection, and in return, they’d sworn loyalty to her.
She approached and handed a thick, weathered book. "I think this is a sign," she said, pointing to a circled section on a folded map tucked between the pages. "France."
"France?" I repeated, glancing at Cayden.
"Yes. I received the sign there today."
I t my brother’s eyes. I had just ntioned France as the only country Cyrius would know well. His posture changed instantly—he sat up straight, his attention razor-focused.
"I just got this sign," Aurora continued. "Sothing is calling us there."
"Could it be Hazel?" I asked.
Cayden shook his head. "Hazel can’t cast a high-level spell like this. Not unless there are witches there training her—but I doubt it. More likely, soone else is drawing us in, giving us a trail to follow. But it doesn’t matter. We need to go. Now."
"Travel to France? Imdiately?"
"Yes," he snapped. "This sign appeared just now. We don’t know how long it will last. They could be in danger as we speak..so we move. Fast."
Cayden pushed his chair back and stood abruptly—but his legs betrayed him. He staggered, swaying before falling backward into the couch.
"Ay, ay, ay," Leon muttered, rushing over. Two other wolves joined him, steadying Cayden as he tried to get back up. The sharp scent of liquor clung to him—strong enough to sting my nose. The alcohol had finally caught up with him.
I rose from my seat. "Let take it from here, brother. You’re not in any state to—"
"No." He cut off, his words slightly slurred. "I will find Hazel." He lurched forward, nearly tripping again. "I will find her. And my babies. They’re in France."
He could barely stand, his voice thick and uneven.
"Cayden..." I walked over, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "I promised you—I will bring them back."
He shoved my hand away, his glare unsteady but burning. "That’s what you promised before. And you couldn’t protect them. And they died."
My jaw clenched. "That wasn’t my fault."
"Yes, it’s not your fault," he said bitterly. "It’s just that you’re not up to the task. So I better..." His voice trailed off, his head dipping before he jerked upright again. "Even though I’m still drunk... I’ll be damned if I co back here without them."
He tried to move past Leon, but without their grip he would have hit the floor.
I turned to Leon. "Get him upstairs."
They started hauling him toward the staircase, but Cayden fought them the entire way, trying to break free. His stubbornness was still intact—even if his balance wasn’t.
"Aurora—please," I called.
She moved toward him, calm as ever, and placed her hand against his head.
...Versa..
Cayden’s body went limp almost instantly. His breathing steadied, his face softening as he sank into unconsciousness.
I t Aurora’s eyes.
"Let’s go."
We were already halfway out the door when Aurora’s voice stopped .
"Caspian."
I turned, and my gaze dropped to her hand. The book she carried was smoking—thin wisps curling upward, darkening into black flas.
She reacted instantly, tossing it to the floor and chanting sothing sharp and fast under her breath. The flas hissed out, leaving only the sll of burnt parchnt. Her eyes locked with mine.
"She’s in danger," Aurora said, her voice low but urgent. "Or... maybe not her directly, but soone is trying to warn us. We need to move. Now."
"Is there any way we can get there imdiately?" I asked. "New Orleans to France will take forever.."
"We can teleport," she said. "But France is too far for to carry more than us. My power is limited. That ans just you and no guides, no extra protection. If we’re surrounded, it’ll be just us."
I straightened. " and you will be enough to take down that bastard. But we still need an exact location."
I glanced back at the book lying on the floor and bent to pick it up. "Please," Aurora murmured to it, as if speaking to a living thing, "show us where."
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I’m trying to send a ssage back to whoever is signaling us," she said without looking up. "If they can hear , they might send the exact location."
Her hand pressed flat against the cover as she whispered in a language I didn’t recognize. The black flas sparked again, licking at the edges. This ti, instead of smoke, glowing lines began to form across the page—shaping into a map. The exact location lit up, a small point burning brighter than the rest.
"I’ve got it." She grabbed my hand, her grip firm. Her eyes t mine with a single word of finality. "Let’s go."
She whispered the spell. "Versa."
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