Page 5 of Crimson Moon Falling

A hot shower helped cut through the persistent chill from the implant, but the device’s icy silence seemed to spread further with each passing day, numbing me from the inside out. I pressed my hands against the tile and bowed my head. How much time did I have until it engulfed me completely? I got out, got dressed, and sat on the side of the bed to check my messages.

Unknown Number: The Alpha is smart to give you extra protection. What are you doing in Yellowstone, sweetheart?

I stared down at the message, then blocked Marlowe’s number. When I walked into the kitchen, Gunnar had commandeered the kitchen table, and a map of Yellowstone and the surrounding area lay spread out on top.

“Beau sent over the files,” he muttered.

“Anything useful?”

His finger tapped a spot on the map. “This is where his truck was found. The blood is his, but there’s not much of it, at least not enough to indicate serious injury. Could be from a cut or a nosebleed.” His thick finger traced a route on the map. “Search teams covered a five-mile radius around where his truck was located, but didn’t find anything.” We talked for a few more minutes until Freda walked over, her face carefully neutral.

“I’ve updated the Alpha. Including the text from Marlowe.”

“What’d he say?” I kept studying the map.

“He wants you to call him, and he wants daily reports. Riley.” She waited until I looked up at her. “He’s also concerned about your mate bond.”

My bond with Conall was the last thing I wanted to discuss in front of Bennion and Gunnar. I straightened. “I’m going to bed. Let’s start early tomorrow.”

Conall had talked to Freda about our bond, but he hadn’t contacted me. Irritation and hurt swam through me before the implant smothered both.

“Night,” Gunnar grunted absently. Freda watched me go, her brow furrowed.

The bedroom was small with simple furniture, but it had an unobstructed view of the geysers and mountains beyond. I got ready for bed and slid under the covers, my body exhausted but my mind churning. Outside, a half-moon hung in the sky, surrounded by brilliant stars pulsing against the black night.

Sleep wouldn’t come. I stared at the ceiling, the coldness inside me spreading through my limbs like frost across a windowpane. I reached for the mate bond, that gossamer thread that connected me to Conall. But it felt so thin and fragile, barely stirring when I mentally tugged at it.

Had it been irreparably damaged when they cut me open and attached that device to my cervical spine? Its icy reach seemed to creep through me a little more each day. Was the bond dampened by the distance, or by the implant?

I rolled on my side and stared out at the moonlight glimmering through the pine branches outside. The moon looked like a crescent scar, pale and curved against the darkness.

Pulling my phone off the nightstand, I sent Conall a text.

Riley: The text from Marlowe wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about me. Let me know how the Pack Council goes

I watched the text go unread for a while, then laid my phone face down on the nightstand. Questions chased through my mind as the night deepened around me.

Would I ever feel warm again, or would this coldness eventually consume me, turning me into something as remote and untouchable as those distant stars?

Chapter 3

Riley

Bleached cattle skulls lined the log entrance to Viggo’s property, their empty eye sockets tracking us as we pulled onto the long driveway. The missing ranger’s place reminded me of a horror movie set.

Morning mist clung to the ground in thin, ghostly ribbons as our SUV crunched over the gravel road.

“Charming,” Freda murmured. Gunnar grunted in agreement as he looked around.

A hand-painted wooden sign jutted from the ground at a sharp angle near what appeared to be the cabin. White letters painted on weathered plank read “Keep Out” with a crude skull and crossbones underneath.

Gunnar cleared phlegm out of his throat, rolled down his window, and spit. “Guessin’ he doesn’t get many door-to-door salesmen out here.”

Bennion grimaced and glanced around. “This place isn’t very inviting.”

He wasn’t kidding. Caustic, jagged energy vibrated from the property line like broken glass embedded in the soil.

Freda pulled the SUV to a stop about twenty yards from the dark, two-story structure. From our angle, it looked like a tree was growing through the roof of the cabin. Smoke-blackened river stones formed the chimney.