Page 4 of Lycan’s Hunt

Chapter 2

• King Soren •

Branches whip at my face, each lash searing into me that time is slipping through my fingers as howls rip through the night. Panic swells within me, an unrelenting emotion that propels my legs forward faster than I’ve ever dared to run. The soles of my boots are hot, and I can feel the thick soles burning my feet and the uneven forest floor. My breath uneven, creating white plumes in the chilled air that dissipates as quickly as my hope when I don’t find him straightaway. I know he would have had to go through the forest; my men would have spotted him if he tried to go through the front gates.

My chest heaves with each heartbeat. I can almost feel the moon’s mocking gaze, its cool light casting long, grotesque shadows that seem to reach for me, as if the darkness itself is alive, hungering for the dread that clings to me like a second skin.

Sweat beads on my brow, despite the crisp air that stings my lungs. It’s not just the physical exertion; it’s the horror of the unknown, the terrifying possibility of what might happen if I don’t reach him in time. The stakes have never felt so dire, and every fiber of my being screams for me to push harder.

“Max!” The desperation in my shout shreds the heavy silence. I push through the underbrush, heart slamming against ribs with enough force to crack bone. Leaves slap and tear at my skin, as unforgiving as the reason propelling me forward. My son, my little boy lost to the night that should have cradled him safely within the castle’s stone walls.

“Max!” I scream yet again. Ahead, the sound of the river grows louder. “Max!” The urgency in my call cleaves through the tumultuous roar of the river as I crash through the underbrush. I catch a glimpse of movement ahead.

He’s there; Max stands precariously close to where the water churns with relentless power, the mist drenching him. His small form is etched sharply against the haze. His cries, sharp and fraught with terror, cut through the noise of rushing water.

Branches snap underfoot as I jolt forward, the mist clinging to my skin like cold dread. Max’s voice pierces the night, frayed with desperation. “Bree! Bree!”

“Max!” I reach for his trembling form, my hands clasp onto his shoulders, yanking him back from where death froths and churns below as the water moves toward the waterfall. His body convulses with sobs, his tiny frame shaking as if the terror of whatever has scared him has sunk into his very bones.

“Max, look at me!” I plead, needing those wild, darting eyes to focus, to find an anchor in mine. He fights against my hold, limbs flailing, wanting to escape from my grasp.

Giving him a shake, I force him to look at me.

“Where’s Bree?” The question tumbles from my lips. My gaze flits across the tangled undergrowth, the silvery moonlight casting long, slithering shadows on the forest my men are coming out of. They create a perimeter immediately. My ears strain for a sign, a whimper or rustle that would tell me where Bree is. I know she wouldn’t have let him walk home on his own or did he not make it to her place at all? Peering around, there’s nothing and no one else except a dead body discarded on the ground of a man.

Max’s sobbing slows as he clings to me, his small fingers digging into my arms. His eyes are still glazed with terror. I pull him closer to shield him with my body, even as I scan for any hint of where Bree went.

The thought of my guards having to wrestle her to safety sends a shiver down my spine. Bree is like a fawn, skittish and delicate; though she wouldn’t be in wolf form. However, the thought of their rough hands on her makes my stomach turn.

“Stay close, Max,” I murmur, my voice a low command meant to soothe. He nods against my chest, his breaths coming in jagged hitches. With one arm securely around him, I raise my other hand to signal the men and am about to send them off for her while I take Max home, only Max lashes out once again, wailing and screaming.

“No… Not without Bree!” he screams.

“Where is she, Max?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the dread that tightens around my own heart like a vice.

“Down there,” he gasps between sobs, pointing to the relentless plunge of water. “She jumped... You have to get her, she jumped...”

The words hit me as I turn to look at the waterfall, I stagger a step back in shock.

“What?”

“She told me to run, I was scared then… she started to shift.” Bree, the rogue who’d found her way into our lives, now potentially sacrificed herself to the merciless raging waters for my son.

“Stay with the guards, Max,” I instruct, though my voice sounds distant to my ears, drowned out by the roar of the river.

Damian’s hand shoots out, snatching Max by the back of his pajama top. The boy is wild, hysteria and fear pumping through his small frame as he tries to lunge toward the waterfall’s edge again.

“Soren!” Damian growls. “This is why a rogue should never be near your son. They are dangerous—”

“Let me go!” Max screams, thrashing in Damian’s grip like a caught animal. His face is streaked with tears and dirt, his eyes wide pools reflecting the moonlight. “Bree! Bree!”

“Max, calm yourself,” I say. Damian is still yelling at me for my carelessness yet, I’m staring into the river looking for any sign of her. Not wanting to believe she plunged from this height.

“Damian, enough,” I command as I turn to glare at him, my words falter when I follow Max’s gaze. The waterfall churns below us relentlessly, there’s no sign of Bree.

“She jumped!” Max’s cry slices through the tumult of rushing water and the heavy night air. “She knew… she was gonna turn… she didn’t wanna hurt me!”

“Jumped?” Damian echoes, skepticism lacing his tone, even he can’t hide a flicker of concern as he peers into the depths.