Chapter 75: GONE

Chapter 75: GONE REED POV : The night is too damn quiet. Each step I take pounds against the cracked pavement like a curse. My boots slam into the concrete, the echo bouncing off rusted fences and abandoned doorways like the world itself is mocking me. Condemning me. I stalk the empty streets, eyes blazing with heat, heart pounding with something dangerously close to panic. I can feel my wolf pacing just beneath my skin, thrashing like it’s caged too tight, like it knows what I refuse to say out loud. She’s gone. Vanished. And it’s my fucking fault. "Stupid, fucking vampire," I hiss under my breath, fangs clenched so hard my jaw aches. My hands curl into fists, claws pricking the inside of my palms. I want to tear Blaze apart. Rip him limb from smug, undead limb. But even that won’t fix this. Won’t bring her back. I can still hear her voice — that perfect, human voice — cracking with rage. "You’re all monsters!" she’d screamed, eyes wild, tears streaking her cheeks as she threw whatever she could grab. A pan. A spatula. A plate. Gods, she’d hit me, and I’d stood there and let her. Not because I couldn’t stop her. Because I wouldn’t. Because my wolf wouldn’t. Because she’s mine. Ours. She’s... something I haven’t fully dared to name yet. Not out loud. Not even to myself. But now she’s just... gone. I whirl around a corner, scanning the street like I’ll find her standing there barefoot, furious, and spitting curses. Like I didn’t just let her walk away into the goddamn night — where predators like me and worse roam free. Nothing. No scent. No heartbeat. No trace. Like the earth just swallowed her whole. "She was just here," I mutter, my voice raw. My eyes flare gold as I sniff the air again — desperate for even a fading wisp of her scent. Still nothing. I punch a rusted dumpster, and the sound clangs down the alleyway. Metal dents under my fist, but it doesn’t make me feel better. Doesn’t stop the way dread is wrapping around my ribs like barbed wire. The last thing I saw before she disappeared was her — standing in that cramped kitchen, hair a mess, cheeks flushed with fury, hands trembling. Between me and Blaze, between two monsters who couldn’t stop circling her like vultures. And she didn’t back down. She never does. She stood there, brave and reckless, and I let her walk away. I let her step right out the door while I was too busy throwing fists with that bloodsucking bastard. I’m supposed to be the Alpha King’s heir. Trained, disciplined, in control. I’m the heir to the goddamn throne, and yet all I could do was feel — wild and desperate and angry. My instincts were screaming that she needed me, that she was ours, that she was in danger. And now I can’t find her. I slam both palms against the wall beside me, claws dragging along the brick, leaving four deep scars behind. My breathing is ragged. My mind is racing. She’s not just some human. She’s not a pet. Not a joke. Not prey. She’s something else. And whatever that else is... it’s ripping me apart inside. Because that warmth — that spark she carries like it was stitched into her soul — it’s gone. Erased. And I don’t know how to live with that. I pause at the street corner, chest heaving, nostrils flaring wide as I suck in the air like a starving animal. Her scent was here — faint but sharp — just moments ago. That distinct blend of her skin, her fear, and beneath it all, the sharp, coppery tang of blood. Not just any blood. That blood. The cruel timing of her cycle had lit her up like a beacon to every predator in the city — vampire, wolf, or worse. And now? Gone. The trail ends like someone cut a wire. One step, it’s there. The next? Nothing. No warmth. No breath. Not even the fading trace of her heartbeat in the air. Just gone. I spin around in place, retracing my steps for the third time, heart thudding like a war drum. I drop to a crouch, sniff the sidewalk, the grass, the rusted edge of a nearby fence. Still nothing. My hands shake as I grip the edge of a streetlamp and lean against it, hard enough to bend the steel. I close my eyes and reach, calling my wolf forward. Sometimes he catches what I miss. Sometimes he sees the thread I can’t find. But even he draws a blank. She’s vanished. Vanished without a trace. And it makes no damn sense. "She can’t just vanish," I growl aloud, the words scraping raw against my throat. Humans don’t just disappear into thin air. Not even clever, defiant, pan-wielding girls like her. Someone took her. Something took her. Because even her blood — that vibrant, pulsing scent that had filled every room she walked into, that made my instincts scream to shield and tear and claim — even that’s been wiped clean. It should be here. It should be everywhere. Instead, all I smell is concrete, oil, and rot. I slam my fist into the metal post. The pole groans and dents beneath the impact. I don’t know what kind of magic this is. Who has the kind of power to erase not just her path, but her from the world entirely? But whoever — whatever — it is... they’ve just declared war. And I will tear this city apart if I have to. Because she’s out there. And I don’t care what laws I break or monsters I unleash — I’m going to find her. I can’t breathe. Not from the running. Not from the cold. It’s something deeper — a tightness around my ribs, around my soul. She’s gone. And my mind won’t stop showing me all the ways I failed her. I remember the first time I saw her — small, quiet, darting through the boarding house like a shadow that didn’t want to be seen. The way she’d flinch every time I walked into a room. At first, I thought it was because she sensed what I was — the predator. The wolf. But then came the guilt. Because deep down, I liked it. Her fear. Her vulnerability. It triggered something in my blood, something ancient and brutal that whispered: mine. I tried to tell myself it was dominance. The usual pull we feel toward weaker things. I convinced myself she was a boy, even when the wolf beneath my skin paced and growled like he knew the truth. I remember the night I lost control — the way she looked at me when I cornered her, when I kissed her like a fucking lunatic, desperate to taste the thing I didn’t understand. Her eyes wide. Her breath caught. I remember thinking, Why am I doing this? I remember her trembling. I thought I was broken. Twisted. Gay, maybe. Or worse — feral. Because who gets obsessed over someone so fragile? Someone so terrified? But it wasn’t just that. I wanted her. Needed her. Craved the way she looked when she was angry, when she pushed back, even when she cried. Especially when she cried. And I hated myself for it. It was only when my father’s voice split into my mind — cold and commanding through the Alpha link — that I snapped out of it. The moment he used his power to stop me from doing something I couldn’t take back. It should’ve ended there. But then... I smelled her. This night. This one damned night when she bled — and the scent hit me like lightning through my spine. It was her. The Moon-blessed mark. My mate. My soul howled with recognition. And I wanted to tear my skin off. Because this? A human? A weak, trembling boy — or so I still thought then? No. I rejected it. Rejected her. I told myself I would end it. I came this night determined to kill her. To silence the bond before it could consume me. Before it could turn me into something worse than a monster — a mate-bonded fool to a fragile human girl. But I never did it. Couldn’t. Because when I walked back in and saw her again — not just bleeding, but shaking, confused, stubborn, real, with bllaze — I knew I was already lost. And now? She’s gone. Disappeared from this world like she never existed. And the thought of her out there, alone, possibly hurt — or worse — drives a fresh crack through what’s left of me. I would kill every creature that ever touched her. And I’ll start with the ones who took her. Because mate or not, human or not — she is mine. And gods help the world if I never get her back. I’m running blind now. Through streets slick with night rain, through alleys that reek of piss and rot. Every corner I turn, every breath I take — I hope I’ll catch even a thread of her. But she’s not here. Not at the boarding house, where the broken utensils still lie scattered across the floor, and her scent once coated the walls like paint. All that’s left now is fading warmth and cold silence. Not at Sara’s apartment. I broke the lock getting in, snarling like a wild thing when no one answered. I tore through it — every drawer, every closet, every room — even though I knew she wouldn’t be here. The air was too still. Dead. The library... that was the worst. I stood there like a ghost, breathing in dust and the sharp tang of aged paper. She used to hide in corners, pretending not to watch me from behind shelves. I remember the way her eyes tracked every movement, too wide, too sharp. My fingers trembled as I ran them over the spot she once sat — just a patch of worn carpet. That’s all it is now. Nothing but a memory. And the alley — the place I told her never to walk alone, the place where shadows move even when there’s no wind — it offered no answers either. Just the stench of rats and old sins. Her scent should’ve been here. If she ran, if she bled, if anything happened — it should’ve left a mark. But there’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. She didn’t just leave. She vanished. And it’s not natural. Not even vampires erase scent this clean. Not witches. Not wolves. My kind should’ve been able to follow a trail even through storm and fire. But this? It’s like the earth swallowed her whole. My wolf paces violently inside me, hackles raised, growling against the back of my skull. He wants blood. He wants Blaze’s throat, He wants to claw through reality until she’s back in our arms. He howls for her. And I... I don’t know what the fuck to do. I lean against the side of the building, chest heaving, claws biting into the brick until it cracks. My vision blurs. Not from tears — I don’t cry — but from something worse. Helplessness. She’s not just gone. She’s been taken. And the wolf inside me knows it. Knows she didn’t just walk away. That something out there has her — something ancient, something that doesn’t play by our rules. The bond is still there. I feel it, distant and muffled, like a scream underwater. But I can’t reach it. I can’t reach her. And if I don’t find her soon, the wolf won’t just hunt. It will slaughter. Because the world should know: when you take a wolf’s mate — even one he didn’t want, didn’t understand, didn’t choose — there is no mercy. Only war.