Chapter 3: The Missing Mate

Maddox moved through his private garden selecting dark crimson roses, wanting perfection for Samantha. The morning replayed in his mind, her laughter, their kiss, the bond surging between them.

Anticipation filled his chest as he climbed to his chambers, bouquet raised like an offering. He pushed open the door, but the room was empty. The bed was made, the sheets cold. Her gown sat folded on a chair. The fire had burned down to embers. She was gone.

"Samantha?" His voice echoed off the stone walls. No answer.

He crossed the room quickly, checking the bathing chamber, the dressing room, the small balcony overlooking the gardens. Empty. All of it empty.

"Samantha!" Louder now. The first edge of panic creeping into his voice.

He summoned his servants and the guards. He stood in the center of his chambers, the bouquet still clutched in his hand, while they searched every corridor, every room, every shadowed corner of the castle.

She was not there.

The servants wrung their hands and swore they had not seen her leave. The guards confirmed no one had passed through the main gates. The scent of her lingered in his chambers, warm and faint, but beyond those walls there was nothing. No trail. No trace. As if she had simply vanished into the stone.

Maddox stood by the window, watching the snow begin to fall, and tried to understand.

"She must have fled," Ranulf said from the doorway.

Maddox turned. His uncle stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his grey eyes unreadable, his expression one of practiced sympathy.

"Clearly she was frightened," Ranulf continued. "Which is understandable, I suppose. She saw what you became in the throne room. What wolf in her right mind would stay after witnessing that?" He paused, letting the words settle.

"But what else can we expect from a wolfless? They are not truly werewolves, are they? No honor. No courage. No loyalty to a mate."

The words grated against Maddox's ears like stones grinding together. Something in them felt wrong, off key, though he could not name what.

"She did not reject me," Maddox said. "The bond is still there. I can feel it."

Ranulf's expression did not flicker. "The bond is new. Weak. It will fade in time. As she has faded from this castle." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something softer, more conspiratorial.

"Do not trouble yourself, my king. More soothers will arrive soon. The Riverpack has already sent word. They have three girls, all strong, all willing to serve. You will not be alone in this."

Maddox's jaw tightened. Soothers. The word made his stomach turn. Disposable women sent to die in his bed, to be torn apart by the monster he became when the curse took hold.

He had never asked for them. He had never wanted them. But Ranulf had always insisted, had always framed it as mercy, as necessity, as the only way to keep the kingdom stable while its king was lost to madness.

"I do not want another soother," Maddox said quietly. "I want her."

Ranulf's grey eyes hardened for a fraction of a second before the sympathy returned. "Of course you do. But she is gone, my king. The guards have searched. There is no trace of her beyond these chambers."

He gestured to the window, where snow was beginning to accumulate on the sills. "Perhaps she was never meant to stay. Perhaps the Moon Goddess sent her only to give you a moment of peace before"

"Before what?" Maddox's voice was sharp. "Before the curse takes me again? Before I become the monster you have grown so comfortable ruling in my place?"

The words hung in the air between them. Ranulf's expression did not change, but something shifted behind his eyes. Something cold and watchful.

"I rule nothing, my king," Ranulf said smoothly. "I merely keep the throne warm until you are able to return to it. As I have always done. As I have always been honored to do."

Maddox looked away. His hands were shaking again, and he did not know if it was rage or the curse stirring in his blood. "I want the castle searched again," he said. "Every room. Every corridor. Every cell."

Ranulf's eyebrow rose. "Every cell, my king?"

"Every cell." Maddox turned to face him fully. "She is here. I can feel her. The bond is still alive. She has not rejected me, and she has not left willingly. Someone has taken her."

For a moment, something flickered across Ranulf's face. Something that might have been surprise. Or fear. Or calculation.

Then he bowed. "As you command, my king. I will see to it personally."

He left the room with the same measured steps he always used, his hands still clasped behind his back, his expression still carefully neutral. But Maddox watched him go with a new suspicion coiling in his chest.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

---

Samantha had tried everything.

She had thrown herself against the door until her shoulders screamed. She had clawed at the lock until her fingers bled, leaving smears of red on the cold iron. She had searched every inch of the cell for weakness, for any crack or crevice that might give her a way out. There was nothing.

And now she sat with her back against the wall, her hands wrapped around her knees, and she let herself cry.

Not because she was weak. Not because she was afraid. But because she was so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of hoping. Tired of believing that if she just held on long enough, something would change.

If she had a wolf, she would not be here. If she had a wolf, she could reach Maddox through the pack link, could send her voice across the distance between them, could tell him where she was and beg him to come.

But she had no wolf. She had never had a wolf. And now she was paying the price for her failure, trapped in a cell beneath the castle of a man who did not know she existed.

A sliver of light appeared at the base of the door.

She scrambled to her feet, her heart lurching, but by the time she reached the door the light was already gone, replaced by a small tray of food shoved through a gap in the stone. Gruel. Stale bread. Water that tasted of iron.

"Let me out!" She threw herself against the door, her voice raw, her fists pounding against the metal. "Please! He will find out! He will"

The footsteps retreated. Slow. Deliberate. Unhurried.

She slid down the door and sat in the darkness, the food untouched beside her, and let the silence swallow her whole. She knew she wouldn't get out of there so easily, not with Ranulf's hidden agendas.

---

Three days after, the snow was falling harder now, blanketing the castle in white, muffling the world beyond the walls.

Maddox sat in his chambers without his shirt, a bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers, his chest heaving with breaths that came too fast and too shallow. The fire had burned out hours ago. He had not noticed.

Three days since Samantha disappeared. Three days since he had last felt truly awake, truly himself, truly free from the weight pressing down on his skull. The clarity was gone now, replaced by the familiar pressure behind his eyes, the fire in his blood, the voice at the edges of his mind that was not quite his own.

He took a long drink and let the whiskey burn his throat.

The scent of her was fading. He could barely catch it now, just a ghost on the pillow where her head had rested, on the gown she had left folded on the chair. He crossed the room on unsteady legs and pressed his face to the fabric, breathing deep, trying to hold onto something that was already slipping through his fingers.

The bond was still there. Faint. Flickering. But alive. She had not rejected him. She had not left him. Someone had taken her. He knew it with a certainty that burned in his chest like a brand.

But he could not find her. He could not reach her. And without her, the curse was winning.

The door opened.

Ranulf entered with two guards behind him, their faces grave, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. Maddox straightened slowly, the gown still clutched in his hand, and watched his uncle approach.

"We found something, my king," Ranulf said. "I am sorry."

One of the guards stepped forward and held out a bundle of fabric. Light blue. Torn. Stained with something that glistened wetly in the candlelight.

Blood.

Maddox's hand moved before he could stop it, snatching the fabric from the guard's grip, lifting it to his face. The scent hit him like a blow.

Samantha. Her scent was strongest here, clinging to the fabric, mixed with something else. Iron. Copper. Blood.

"We found it in the forest," Ranulf said quietly. "Several hours from here. It appears she fled the castle on her own. Perhaps she was frightened. Perhaps she thought she could make it back to her pack." He paused, letting the words settle. "The tracks led into rogue territory."

Maddox's hands were shaking. The fabric was stained with so much blood. Too much blood.

"She was weak, my king," Ranulf continued. "Wolfless. Defenseless. The rogues would have torn her apart within hours." His voice was soft now, almost gentle. "She made her choice. She abandoned you. And now she is gone."

The world went red.

Maddox growled, feeling the shift before he registered it, the bones cracking, the muscles expanding, the fur erupting across his skin.

The gown fell from his hands, forgotten, as the wolf surged forward, as the curse took hold, as the last fragile thread of clarity snapped like a rope pulled too tight.

The guard nearest to him did not even have time to scream.