Chapter 6 Where Did He Go

My phone buzzed. It was Alpha.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

I stuttered, “Y-Yes… why do you ask?” My heart raced. I was terrified of his answer.

“We have a problem,” he said, his tone clipped and urgent. “Meet me at the Pack House. ASAP.” And then the line went dead.

I lowered the phone, my hands trembling. I turned to tell Blaise that I had to go, but he was gone.

The spot where he had been leaning against my bike was empty, as if he had melted into the night. Only the faint echo of his scent lingered in the air, leather and smoke tangled with wild pine, burning in my chest like a secret I couldn’t hold.

I started my bike when Jag spoke, *Wonder why he left so fast* 

*I know, right, he didn't even say goodbye* but somehow I knew that he knew who I was talking to.

The ride down the mountain was smooth and fluid; the gears shifted like it was a brand-new bike. I was pleased, but the tight knot in my chest wouldn’t let go. Blaise’s scent still clung to me, wrapping around me like a forbidden touch.

As I pulled up to the Pack House, Alpha Ryker was waiting outside. His stance was rigid, arms folded, his expression carved from stone. The sight of him sent a chill through me.

I killed the engine and swung off my bike, pulling off my helmet. “What’s wrong?” I asked, trying to sound steadier than I felt.

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp and searching, as though he could see the secrets burning behind them. “Rogues,” he said flatly. “They were spotted on the far ridge. Too close to our borders.”

My stomach dropped. Rogues this close meant danger—meant war.

“I’ve called all warriors in,” he continued. “And that means you, too, Alora. But—” His jaw tightened as we walked inside, where the others were already gathering. “We need every able fighter prepared. Still, this isn’t your fight yet. I want you here at the Pack House, running intel, until we know what their intentions are.”

Jag stirred inside me,*Let me help*

*Not now, Jag,* I told her as I settled down at my computer, launching the surveillance scans.

“I want you on chatter control,” Alpha said, handing me the codes for our towers. “Their cell phones will be bouncing off these. Listen for anything—any information you can get.” He jabbed a finger at the map as he spoke.

But all I could think about was Blaise—how he’d vanished, how his Lycan had claimed me.

And now, standing before my Alpha, I realized the real danger wasn’t just the rogues outside our borders; it was the fire I carried inside—and the boy who had lit it.

“Have you been playing with grizzlies, Alora? You smell like a bear!” Alpha said, and I froze. Oh my Goddess—can he smell Blaise on me?

His nostrils flared once, twice, and he gave a small, private grunt that made my skin go cold. Lycans smelled everything. It was one of those embarrassments I couldn’t hide. “Where were you?” he asked, not unkindly, but there was steel under the question.

I opened my mouth, then shut it. “Out. Mountain.” It came out broken. I didn’t add that I’d been with a stranger who’d wound me up like an inferno. I didn’t say ‘Blaise’. I didn’t say, ‘mate’. I shook my head as if to clear it and tried to focus on the console. 

*Don’t tell him, Alora,* Jag hummed in my head, half-plea, half-command. *Not yet.*

Alpha’s eyes lingered on me a second longer, then he turned away. “Good. Then scrub up. Shower, change, and stay in the inner wing. No wandering off until we know if the rogues mean to test us or retreat.” He nodded to one of the younger sentries by the door. “Shady, show her the comms schedule. If anything pings, you call me first.”

As Alpha strode toward the briefing room, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d be holding ground today. Jag buzzed warm and impatient inside me. *He’ll be back. He always comes back.*

I headed to the inner wing and to the showers, feeling every step like a countdown. The water was hot enough to steam, a small mercy against the chill that had settled in my bones. I let it run over me, fingers working through my hair, rinsing away the scent of leather and smoke that clung like a secret. My soapy hands slid over my hardened nipples. My mind flew back to him, and I swore I could hear a distant chuckle like he knew what I was doing. I bit my lower lip. Thinking of his face, his smile.

Steam fogged the tile; the world narrowed to the beat of my heart and the hiss of water on skin.

Jag thrummed through me, playful and protective. *He wants you too. He knows you would have let him. Don’t hide the fire, Alora.*

My hands paused just below my breast, beneath the warm stream. I thought of Blaise—the way he’d leaned on my bike, the molten gold of his eyes, the way his laugh had scraped along the inside of me. The memory was his brand. I scrubbed harder until the ache in my chest softened into something like steadier fire. The water washed away the scent, but his heat remained steady within me, an ember tucked beneath my ribs.

When I turned the tap off, I stood for a long moment in the quiet, letting the last drops fall from my hair. I wrapped a towel around my shoulders and pressed the fabric to my face until my pulse slowed. 

At my locker, I pulled out a fresh set of clothes.

Jag curled around the edges of my thoughts, satisfied and impatient both. *We look presentable,* she teased. *And ready.*

I dressed in layers—practical, plain clothes that wouldn’t draw attention—tugging on a jacket that smelled faintly of cedar and old leather. I smoothed my hair into a single braid, a small act of control. By the time I padded back to the comms room, the steam had left my skin, but the memory of the mountain and the bike and Blaise’s grin sat like a coiled thing inside me, waiting.

I forced my hands to steady and logged into the tower feeds. The chatter was thin at first—static, blurred pings, the usual late-night noise. But every time a signal spiked, I found my eyes drifting to the door, waiting for that devilish smile to step back into my world. Instead, I got a map, a list of frequencies, and the steady, dull glow of the monitors. Blaise was gone for now—and I had a pack to keep safe. Yet even as I tuned the scanners, my skin still tasted of smoke and leather, and Jag’s satisfied purr promised me it wouldn’t be long before the fire found its way home.

*Do you think Blaise is part of the rogue pack?* Jag whispered.

I froze. Oh Goddess NO! Please don't let it be.