four

Three years later

"Mama, look what I drew!" Golden's excited voice pulled me from the kitchen as he burst through the door, his preschool drawing clutched in his tiny hands.

My heart clenched the way it always did when I looked at him. Three years old and already so much like his father; the same wheat-colored hair, the same stubborn chin, and those eyes. God, those eyes were exactly like Zeke's, molten gold that seemed to see right through you.

"Let me see, sweetheart." I set down the kettle and lifted him onto my lap, studying his crayon masterpiece. "Is this our house?"

"Uh-huh! And that's you, and that's me, and that's Aunty Fatima!" He pointed to each stick figure with pride. "Miss Sarah says I'm the best drawer in class."

"You absolutely are." I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in his sweet scent. "Why don't you go show Aunty Fatima? She's in the back counting today's catch."

Golden scrambled down and raced toward the storage room, his little feet pounding against the wooden floors. I smiled as watched him go, my chest tight with so much love for him. Love for this perfect little boy who'd become my entire world.

"Your boy's got too much energy," Fatima grumbled as he emerged from the back room, Golden clinging to her weathered hand. "Reminds me of my children at that age. Always into something. Never staying at ne place."

"Speaking of which," I glanced at the clock, "I should get him ready for lunch soon. You know how it is a hassle to strip him of his clothes so that I can bath him.”

As soon as Golden heard the word ‘bath’ he ran into the backroom, and me and Fatima chuckled.

Fatima helped me lay out the dining for the dishes.

“Where are your children?” I asked her. “Aren’t they supposed to be back from school?”

“I let them play by the shore,”

“Is that safe Fatima?” my voice grew worried. She smiled brightly at me. “They all know how to swim.”

I set some vegetables to boil, and I sat down by the dining, Fatima slipped in beside me. . "Cecelia, I've been meaning to ask. You ever think about... well, about Golden's father? He’s going to start asking questions soon."

I sat up straighter, alarmed by the sentence.. "There's nothing to discuss. Golden has everything he needs right here."

"I'm not trying to pry, but—"

"Mama!" Golden's scream cut through the air like a blade. "Mama, help!"

I spun around, but he was gone. The back door hung open, creaking in the harbor breeze.

"Golden!" I sprinted outside, Fatima close behind me. "Golden, where are you?"

“Golden!” We both yelled simultaneously. We were greeted with deafening silence.

The only noise was the cry of seagulls and the lapping of waves against the dock.

"Check the boat slips," Fatima shouted and I could hear the tremor in her voice. She walked toward the market. "I'll take the street."

My wolf senses kicked in as panic flooded my system. I could smell Golden's scent, faint but growing fainter, leading toward the tree line behind the Fishermen’s warehouse. My heart hammered as I followed the trail, calling his name until my voice went hoarse.

Nothing. My baby was gone.

By evening, we had alerted the pack, and half the pack was searching. Fatima organized search parties while the men combed every inch of Seacreek territory. I sat in the pack house, staring at Golden's drawing, my hands shaking so violently I could barely hold it.

"We'll find him," Fatima said softly, placing a warm cup of tea in my hands. "These things happen sometimes. Kids wander off—"

"He didn't wander off." My voice came out flat, like all my life have been stolen from me "Someone took him. I can feel it."

Fatima squeezed my shoulder. "The Seacreek pack isn't large, but we're thorough. We've searched everywhere twice. If he's in our territory—"

"He's not." I stood abruptly, the cup clattering to the floor. "Whoever took him is long gone by now."

"Cecelia, you need to rest. You can't help Golden if you collapse from exhaustion."

Rest? How could I rest when my son; my golden boy was out there somewhere, probably scared and crying for his mama?

I looked outside and it was past sunset. If he had indeed wandered off, he would hav eocme home. He knew his way home. Somebody would have seen him. Somebody would have brought him back to me.

I closed my eyes, and suddenly I could see Zeke's face as clearly as if he were standing in front of me. Zeke, with his resources and connections. Zeke, who commanded respect and fear across multiple territories. Zeke, who could find anyone, anywhere.

The thought made me sick, but what choice did I have?

"I know someone who can help," I whispered, hating myself for the words. "Someone with the resources to search beyond Seacreek."

Fatima looked up from the tea she was sadly spooning. “Who is that?”

“You will not know him but he used to leave in the pack where I came from?”

She stood up. “If you’re going to your former pack, then I am coming with you.”

I placed my hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to.” Her eyes held confusion. I swallowed. “It’s something I have to do alone.”

Fatima's eyes widened with understanding. "Cecelia, no. You swore you'd never—"

"I swore a lot of things." I picked up Golden's drawing, folding it carefully and tucking it into my pocket. "But my son's life is worth more than my pride."

“No, Cecelia.” She grabbed onto me as I made to turn away. “It’s best you inform the Alpha and have the Alpha meet Zeke on your behalf.”

“And where will that have me be?” My Voice cracked with tears. “Sitting around here, when I can be helping instead.”

I met her gaze, seeing my own desperation reflected in her eyes. "But who would have taken him? Why?”

I shook my head, the tears threatening to spill on my cheeks. And now I was going to see the one person I hoped I'd never have to face again.