Chapter 1
CADE
Two days. That’s how long I lasted.
Honestly, I’m surprised I made it that long.
It’s been two days since Clayton Wilder walked onto my territory and took the only person I’ve found who might know where Elara is.
Two days since I put my hand around Hadley Ashcroft’s throat.
Yeah.
Not my best moment.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel until the leather creaks.
I can still see her face. There was no fear. That’s what almost makes it worse.
Hadley wasn’t scared of me. She looked hurt, like for a second she couldn’t figure out how the boy she used to know became someone who would do that.
And I hate that I gave her a reason to look at me like that.
But she doesn’t understand why I did it. Or why I do anything. It’s simple. It boils down to one specific reason every time.
Elara
It’s always Elara.
For three years every decision I’ve made has come back to one thing—finding her, bringing her home.
And making whoever took her pay.
For the first time in three fucking years, I was close.
Wren.
The rogue who has answers. The one Hadley took before I could get any.
Every mile feels longer than the last. The truck rumbles beneath us, dragging me toward the one place I never wanted to return to.
BlackRidge territory appears through the trees, and my stomach twists.
I hate this place.
That’s not fair. I know it’s not.
BlackRidge didn’t ruin my life. Clayton Wilder didn’t ruin my life.
My father did.
I know that. Okay?
Everyone expects me to pretend I don’t, but I do.
My father made choices that forced another Alpha’s hand, and Clayton did what Alphas do. He protected his people. He protected other packs. He did what I probably would have done.
And I fucking hate that part the most.
Because understanding it doesn’t erase the fact that I was nineteen years old standing over my father’s body while everyone looked at me and expected me to become him.
Understanding doesn’t erase the years of trying to fix what he broke.
And understanding definitely doesn’t make looking Clayton Wilder in the eye any easier.
He killed my father, and whether either of us likes it or not, he thrust Greyhaven onto my shoulders before I was old enough to carry it. There was no one else. No brothers. No one waiting to take my place.
Now I’m about to ask him for help.
The Black Wolf. The Alpha other Alphas warn their children about.
The man who stood in my territory two days ago and told me exactly what would happen if I ever touched his mate again.
And the worst part is how much I believe him. Everyone believes Clayton Wilder. That man doesn’t make threats just to hear himself talk.
But Hadley… she’s my opening now. She might listen.
Before she was his mate, she was the girl who used to sit beside me at boring Alpha meetings and make sarcastic comments under her breath just to see if she could make me laugh.
Before she was Luna of BlackRidge, she was my friend.
And right now, she might be the only person in that house who can see me for the pathetic, desperate mess I am.
Because I don’t need Clayton Wilder to forgive me. I don’t need him to like me either.
I need Wren.
I need the one person who can bring me back my mate.
And if convincing the most terrifying Alpha alive doesn’t work, then I’m hoping like hell his Luna can convince him for me.
The BlackRidge gates come into view, and I hate that I hesitate.
It’s barely a second. Not even long enough for most to notice, but I do. My wolf definitely does.
And so does Jax.
The truck behind me slows when I do, and my eyes flick to the rearview mirror.
Of course Jax notices. He notices everything.
That’s why he’s my Beta.
That’s why he’s sitting in the truck behind mine instead of telling me this entire plan is insane. Although, he did that too. Several times.
I didn’t listen.
But Jax understands something everyone else doesn’t.
He understands why this isn’t about pride. It isn’t about Clayton walking into my territory two days ago and taking someone I was hunting. It isn’t even about the fact that he threatened to kill me.
Honestly, I deserved that part.
I touched Hadley.
I put my hands on someone who used to be my friend because, for one second, I stopped seeing Hadley Ashcroft and only saw Clayton Wilder’s mate standing between me and the only lead I’ve had in three years.
I hate myself for that too.
I hate a lot of things lately.
But Jax knows.
He’s the only person who knows everything.
Everything about Elara. Everything about before.
Everything about the mistakes I made when I was young and stupid and too damn worried about what everyone thought an Alpha’s son should be.
Things I would give anything to take back. Things I was supposed to have a lifetime to fix.
Then she disappeared, and I never got the chance.
So yes, I brought wolves. Just in case.
Six of them. Three in Jax’s truck. Three in mine.
Because I’m hoping Hadley forgives me. I’m hoping Clayton listens and I can explain that Wren isn’t just some rogue I want punished.
She’s the first real chance I have at finding my mate.
But hope doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
Not with Clayton Wilder.
And I hate that too.
It just keeps coming.
I hate that even after everything, even after three years of leading my own pack, there is still a part of me that reacts to his name.
The Black Wolf.
Every wolf knows it.
That’s the problem.
I’m an Alpha. I’m not supposed to be afraid of another one. My wolves follow me. They trust me. They expect me to walk into any room and be the strongest thing inside it.
Then there’s Clayton.
And the worst part is I don’t even hate him.
I wish I did. It would be easier.
I wish I could convince myself he was the monster everyone whispers about.
The Alpha who killed my father. The reason Greyhaven fell apart.
But I know better.
My father was the reason Greyhaven fell apart.
Clayton was just the one strong enough to do something about it.
So yes.
I respect him.
I understand him.
And I still fucking loathe that a part of me fears him.
Loathe. Wow.
Moving on up the hate scale.
The tires cross onto BlackRidge land, and everything naturally goes to hell.
Because why wouldn’t it?
My wolf reacts first.
Movement.
My eyes snap toward the trees. At first, I think it’s a patrol or BlackRidge wolves moving through the forest. Then I realize they aren’t patrolling.
They’re chasing.
“What the fuck?”
My foot hits the brake. The truck stops hard, gravel kicking up beneath the tires. Behind me, Jax does the same. I barely notice.
Because I see red hair.
I would know it anywhere. I’ve seen that face in every report. Every description. Every piece of information we’ve been able to drag out of rogues for three years.
Wren.
My chest goes tight.
Three years of searching for Elara.
Waking up every morning knowing my mate was somewhere out there and I couldn’t get to her. Feeling that bond pull toward someone who never answered.
And now the person who knows why is twenty yards away.
Running. Fighting. Escaping.
Except something doesn’t make sense.
Not her ability. I already knew Wren could fight.
Everyone knows she can.
Years of chasing someone gives you plenty of time to learn exactly how dangerous they are. I’ve heard the stories and I’ve seen what happens when wolves underestimate her.
They lose.
No, that isn’t what bothers me.
It’s how she fights.
Because I expected cruelty—anger even. I expected someone who enjoyed causing the same pain she helped put me through.
That isn’t what I’m watching.
Wren doesn’t fight like someone trying to hurt people. She fights like someone trying to get away.
Like every second she stays here is another second she might not survive.
And I hate that I notice. I hate that my Alpha instincts are seeing something my anger doesn’t want to.
One of the BlackRidge wolves charges.
She-wolf. A brunette.
I don’t recognize her, but I recognize training—BlackRidge training. Which means Clayton’s training.
And that means something, because that man doesn’t build weak wolves.
She’s fast. Strong.
But Wren is faster.
She waits. Finds the opening.
And drops the brunette.
Fast.
Clean.
Exactly like I knew she could.
Just like I’ve been warned she could.
But watching it happen is different.
Watching the woman I’ve spent years blaming fight like someone who’s done nothing but survive makes me question something I really don’t want to question.
Something I immediately shove down. Because I don’t care.
I can’t care. Not about her.
Not when Elara is still out there.
And Wren knows where. I know she does.
I shove my door open. I lost one person three years ago. I’m not losing the only one who can bring her back.
My boots hit the gravel before I even realize I’m moving. Behind me, doors open. My wolves follow. They don’t ask questions or hesitate.
They see their Alpha walking toward a fight, and they walk with me, because that’s what Greyhaven does.
Now.
We’ve spent three years rebuilding.
Years proving we aren’t the broken pack everyone thought Clayton Wilder left behind.
And now the person responsible for my three years of hell is standing right in front of me.
Wren sees me. For one second, everything stops. Recognition flashes across her face.
I smile.
It’s anything but polite.
She knows exactly who I am and why I’m here. Then she does something I don’t expect.
She looks at her wolves. One command. One movement. And they turn around.
Not away from BlackRidge—through it. Straight through Clayton’s territory. That’s either the bravest thing I’ve ever seen or the stupidest.
Maybe both.
Because nobody runs through BlackRidge.
Nobody challenges the Black Wolf on his own land, but Wren isn’t trying to challenge him.
She’s challenging me. She knows I won’t cross.
She knows I won’t disrespect another Alpha’s border when I’m already hanging by a thread with Clayton.
She uses it.
She uses my own fucking restraint against me.
And then, just for a second, she looks back.
Smiling.
Returning mine from earlier. Like she knows she won.
She’s good.
Fuck.
She’s about to disappear again with my answers.
With Elara.
That’s it.
That’s the moment I stop thinking.
“Cade.”
Jax.
It’s a warning. I hear it. I ignore it anyway.
I take off.
Not through BlackRidge, around it. Following the border. The longer path. The smarter path. The one that gives Wren exactly what she wanted.
Time.
Jax follows just like he always follows me into my worst decisions.
The others stay.
Greyhaven and the rogues that stayed collide behind us, but I don’t stop.
I should. That’s the worst part. I know I should. I’m their Alpha. Those are my wolves fighting back there.
But Elara is ahead of me.
Three years of searching is ahead of me.
So I keep running. I pass the BlackRidge brunette still on the ground.
She’s hurt, but breathing.
Alive.
I turn away.
Because I’m done chasing ghosts.
Wren has a head start.
Not for long.
