Chapter 3: The Crypted Message

 

(Rowan’s POV)

The dream came again.

It was the same silhouette. The same sultry voice.

A woman was laughing softly but she was always out of reach. Her silhouette was dancing between the tall trees, silver light tangled in her hair. But I never saw her face, never caught her scent—not fully but gods, I felt her.

As if she belonged to me.

As if I lost her.

I shot up in bed, breath catching in my throat like a fist. My chest heaved as I dragged a hand through my damp hair. Cold sweat clung to my skin despite the wintry air leaking through the cracked windowpane.

It was still dark outside. Dawn is barely a rumor. But there’d be no going back to sleep now. This has almost become my new normal, waking up from a dream every dawn and finding it hard to go back to bed.

It has been three solid years.

Three years of vague, taunting dreams.

Three years of waking to an ache I couldn’t explain.

But I could argue with anyone that it felt like a mate I never marked. A bond I never completed. A life I was certain I had… and somehow still lost it at the end.

I rolled out of bed, not bothering with a shirt, and strode across the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire Blackthorne territory—frozen trees, sharp rooftops, quiet lives bowing to winter’s weight. My land. My legacy.

And yet, in all its vastness, it still felt like something was missing.

My Beta was waiting for me in the war room, already two coffees deep and mid-scroll on his tablet. I wonder who has bad sleeping habit between me and him.

“You look like shit,” Knox said, not looking up. 

Oh yeah, he is also a good friend who sometimes overlooks my title as his alpha.

“Dream again.” I said to him, moving closer to where he was.

“The same one?” He asked.

I grunted in response, settling into the chair at the head of the long table. He slid a mug across to me. No sugar. Just black and brutal. Exactly how I like it.

“You ever consider a therapist?” he offered, like we haven’t visited that discussion several times.

“You ever consider not being annoying before sunrise?” I retorted.

He smirked, but it didn’t last. “Lena’s uncle called.” He began, straight to business like the efficient beta he is. “They’re still expecting you at the winter gala.” 

“Cancel it.”

He blinked. “Again?”

“I’m not interested.” i said in a simple and bored tone.

“Rowan, it’s been three years. You need a Luna.” he pointed out like this is not something I already cleared him on.

“What I need,” I said, slowly, “is someone real.”

“Lena is real. And politically perfect. She’s smart, beautiful, obedient—”

“I don’t want obedient.” I cut him off, not ready to listen to the many reasons I have to marry someone I know nothing about and feel absolutely nothing for.

“You don’t even want her.” He stated, knowing my real reason.

“I’m glad you know that, Knox.” I said to him, slightly glaring at him, “She’s not who I’m waiting for.” I added.

“You don’t even know who you’re waiting for.” He quirked his brows at me, like he was challenging me.

I met his eyes. “That’s the worst part, isn’t it?” I questioned him, not ready to entertain his usual tactics of challenging me.

Knox sat back, sighing. “You think someone took her? The woman from the dreams?”

“I think she was mine. And something—someone—ripped her away from me.” I answered, my memories have missing part, but I always felt like I had something that was a huge part of my life.

“No records. No missing persons reports. No rogue sightings that match your vision. Rowan… maybe your mind made her up.” Knox said, tabling out the facts.

“Then why the hell can’t I forget her?” I locked my gaze with him, hoping he could give me the answers I really want to hear.

But he didn’t answer. He never had one.

The day began as usual in the right order. I attended the meetings that were crucial and gave out orders that made sure my pack members were all kept in check. Some considered me to be cold and ruthless because my gaze was almost always dark, but I didn’t care. 

I am the Alpha, and my role is to keep the pack safe and ensure we keep blooming.

But sometime just before noon, a message came in.

Slipped into the inbox of our secure line. No subject. No sender. Just a single sentence and a location.

“There’s a child with Alpha blood. He’s dying. I need Rowan Blackthorne. Come alone.”

I stared at it. Something beneath my ribs twisted sharply.

Knox read it over my shoulder. “That’s got trap written all over it.”

I stared at the screen.

There was something about the phrasing. Not the urgency. Not even the secrecy.

It was the voice.

The way the sender, a lady, said I need Rowan Blackthorne. Not “the Alpha.” Not “your pack.” But me.

It tugged at something primal. Something I hadn’t felt since the dreams began.

“Could be a rogue using a kid to bait you,” Knox said.

“Or it could be real,” I replied, getting up on my feet.

“Rowan—”

“I’ll go. Alone.”

“That’s exactly what they want.”

“Then they’re welcome to try.”

He looked at me like I’d grown another head. “And if it’s real? What then?”

I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure I cared.

Because if there was a child out there—one with Alpha blood strong enough to pull at mine—I had to know.

Maybe it was the mystery.

Maybe it was the dreams.

Maybe it was that damn ache in my chest that had never quite healed, even after all this time.

I turned to Knox. “Tell the messenger…”

I paused, staring out into the snow-covered treetops.

“…I’ll meet her. Midnight. Alone.”