Chapter 74

ELENA

“Where’s Aiden?!”

The question ripped from my throat, wild and raw. It wasn’t a question, really. It was a scream. A plea. A command wrapped in terror.

My voice echoed across the wreckage of the room—the overturned furniture, the broken glass, through the blood that still hovered in a haze over the bodies of the dead.

Derek turned fast, already pivoting to Brock and Joe, his eyes feral with urgency.

“I told you to get the boy!”

Brock’s brows furrowed, scanning the room again like he expected to find Aiden hiding behind a piece of furniture. “I didn’t see him!”

Joe looked stunned. “I—I thought he was with you.”

Time stopped.

My blood turned to ice.

And then I ran.

I didn’t wait for anyone to tell me what to do, didn’t ask permission or wait for backup. I just ran, barefoot across broken tile, down the hallway where I’d last seen him.

“AIDEN!” My voice cracked on the second syllable, the sound shattering against the sterile white walls.

Behind me, Derek’s voice boomed through the halls like a war drum. “Scour the villa. Find the child. NOW.”

I ran into the kitchen where Pierce had originally taken him. Saw the sandwich he’d made for Aiden, one large bite taken out of it.

The dead rogue on the floor on the other side of the countertop.

Half blind with fear, I continued on through the villa.

I didn’t stop.

I checked every room I passed, throwing open doors with shaking hands.

An office—empty.

A bathroom—nothing but gleaming chrome and towels folded too perfectly to have been used.

A bedroom. Then another. Beds made. Drawers closed. As if no one had ever stayed here. As if my son had never been here at all.

“AIDEN!” I screamed again, the panic rising up my throat so fast it felt like I was choking on it.

I shoved open one more door—and froze.

The storeroom.

Where they held us.

I stepped inside, my heart punching hard against my ribs.

The room was exactly as we’d left it. Blanket still rumpled. The vent above the cot still slightly ajar.

I dropped to my knees beneath it.

“Aiden?” My voice was shaking. “Baby, are you up there? It’s okay—it’s safe now. Please come down.”

Silence.

My voice cracked again. “Please.”

The silence deepened.

My hands began to tremble as the air thickened in my lungs. I tried to breathe, but it came too fast—too shallow. My chest was tightening, my fingers tingling. The edges of the room began to tilt and blur.

Breathe. Breathe, damn it.

I pushed myself to my feet, staggering toward the window. Flung it open.

A gust of warm, salty air hit me.

And then—

A flicker.

Movement.

A shift in the palm fronds across the pool deck. The tiniest rustle of green.

Not wind. Not wildlife.

Someone.

I didn’t think. I just moved. Running full out, Nox howling inside of me.

Down the hallway. Around the bend. Through the shattered front door. Around the outer path toward the pool.

I was breathless by the time I reached it, the heat clinging to my skin, my heart hammering in my ears.

The tiles were slick beneath my feet, still wet from earlier.

I scanned the water. Empty.

But there—just beyond the edge.

Palm fronds trembled again.

“AIDEN!” I shouted.

And I smelled him.

I felt him.

His scent was fresh, sharp, sweet—sunscreen and salt and little boy sweat. And something else.

Rogue.

The one who’d been watching us by the pool. The quiet one.

A snarl built low in my throat.

I launched into the brush at full speed, shoving fronds and branches aside, scraping my arms and legs, but not slowing down. I barreled through the jungle lining the villa like it was paper.

And then—I broke through.

The sand was warm and soft beneath my feet. The sun cast long gold shadows across the beach.

And there—down the shore, maybe twenty yards away—

Aiden.

He was being dragged.

His heels left thick, broken trails through the sand, carving desperate lines that told me he’d tried to fight. His arms were wrenched behind his back, his small fists clenched.

His hoodie—his favorite one, the one he said made him brave—was bunched awkwardly at the shoulders. One sleeve had ridden up past his elbow, exposing skin scraped raw.

His face was pale. His lips trembling. His eyes—wide and terrified—searched the beach like he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

“AIDEN!”

I screamed his name so loud it ripped something in my throat. My voice cracked apart, sharp and raw and full of fear.

The rogue dragging him turned like a startled animal, his head jerking over his shoulder—and that’s when I saw it.

The dagger.

Silver.

Not decorative. Not bluffing.

The blade gleamed in the sunlight, held tight to the soft skin beneath Aiden’s jaw. One twitch, one slip, one heartbeat—and it would be over.

“Don’t come any closer!” the rogue shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. “I swear to the goddess—I’ll kill him!”

My legs moved on instinct. I surged forward.

But stopped.

Dead.

The knife glinted again. The way it trembled in the man’s hand made it worse, not better. The rogue was scared—panicked. Unstable. A single wrong move and he’d follow through just to make it stop.

The world narrowed to a single, terrible thread.

The wind howled off the ocean behind us, but I didn’t feel it. The sun blazed high and cruel above, but I didn’t see it.

All I could see was that blade. His throat. My child.

Then—

The thunder of footsteps.

Brush cracking behind me. Leaves rustling. Sand crunching.

Derek.

Brock.

Joe.

Silverclaw warriors poured onto the beach like a second wave of fury—eyes bright, muscles tense, weapons out.

Derek moved faster than the rest, his body coiled, teeth bared. He was already lunging forward before he’d fully processed what he was seeing.

“Don’t!” I shouted.

I grabbed his shoulder with both hands, nails digging in so hard I felt skin give beneath them.

He stopped like I’d struck him.

His chest heaved. His jaw clenched.

His gaze locked on Aiden—on the dagger. On the slight, swaying weight of our son’s body barely staying upright.

And I saw it.

The moment his instincts warred with his logic. The moment the Alpha in him yielded to the father. Even if he didn’t know the boy was actually his.

We couldn’t rush the rogue.

Not like this.

The rogue’s eyes flicked between all of us, wide and shining with panic. His chest rose and fell too fast. Sweat poured down his temples, streaking through the blood and grime.

The blade in his hand wavered slightly, unsteady but dangerously close to skin.

“I’ll do it!” he screamed. “Don’t think I won’t!”

“I believe you,” I whispered, too quietly for him to hear.

Aiden looked at me then. His eyes were wet, but no tears fell.

He blinked, once. Slow. Steady.

Not crying.

Fighting it.

Trying to be brave. Just like I’d taught him.

My knees wanted to give out. My whole body did. I felt my wolf snarling, thrashing beneath my skin, begging me to shift and throw myself between them.

But I couldn’t. Not yet.

Every instinct I had—every ounce of me that loved that child more than life itself—screamed to move. To fight. To end it.

But I couldn’t risk it. Not when one wrong breath could sever the world.

I didn’t breathe.

I didn’t blink.

My soul stayed frozen inside my body as I watched my son’s life balance on the edge of a shaking blade.