“Turn on your tracker.”
“What?”
“Angelo, turn on your tracker right now and ask questions later.”
Nico had never spoken to his clan leader as he did now, but the beeping on his screen told him that it had worked. Coincidentally, he was nearer to the location than he expected, already venturing out when he became aware of two things: that Anne was gone and that Angelo had abruptly left for an urgent matter. It took nearly harassing a clan member to get some information out, and he knew he was going to pay for that later. But it didn’t matter now. Getting to Angelo—and, he suspected, Anne—was what mattered now more than anything in the world.
Fog slowed down his movements, rendering paranoia as every sound was sharpened. The absence of the dancing fog had worry rising, but all of that was wiped when his muscles ticked. He burst into half of his bear form, whirling to stop the attack launching his way. His claws stopped mid-air.
“Jan?”
Janella Hastings-Bennett was dressed in all black, blending into the night except for her blonde hair. Fangs were out in defense but retreated quickly when she noted his recognition.
“I overheard your commotion back there. I know it involves my husband, so I followed you.”
“It involves Angelo and Anne.”
“Then how about you share the details while we track them down?”
Just like that, the vampire was on his side and keeping up to his pace as he continued following the map. When they had arrived in the beeping area and he had told her what he could, her face was a mask of darkness that promised a lot of things while her voice was as cool as ever.
“Hold up.”
“Do the process,” he ordered. “Close your eyes and clear your head.”
They did it together and took caution from the possible trance as the dancing fog weaved its way around the forest and where they stood. Seconds later, Janella was in the trees while he stayed behind, letting the fog swirl around him. Its frenzied state felt different…more desperate, clutching on to his senses.
“Nico. Over here.”
He glanced up and was running towards her pointed direction while she swung on the branches and led the way. She landed on the edge of the forest just as he stopped there, where they found Angelo as he continuously hacked at vines and tree barks with his claws. Belatedly, it sank in that the forest was moving, and everything Angelo sliced at was growing back.
“Help me,” Angelo barked. “We need to get to them.”
“Them?”
“Anne, Michael, Paul. The Fae they were supposed to rescue.”
Nico’s heart dropped in his stomach even while he moved, instinct snapping one beat: that his loved ones were in danger.
“What happened?” Janella asked.
“I don’t know. I was securing the perimeter when there was a blast. The fog acted up, and the whole area closed off.”
“Is it the Fae’s doing?”
“No,” Nico blurted out in response to Janella’s inquiry. “Angelo, who named The Western Cub?”
Angelo stilled. “What—”
“Who made the report and took the territory?”
“Anne asked the same question,” Angelo mused, tone lowered. Mystified. Then, “Paul.”
Paul, Mr. Decent Guy. Paul, who had led a few ambushes in the past before he was assigned a new rank in the brewing business. Words spilled out of Nico’s mouth as an ice-cold sensation wrapped around him, and the rapid paling of Angelo’s complexion told him that the man was listening intently.
“I trusted Paul.”
“So did I,” Nico countered.