Without A Trace Book Novels & Stories

A guard entered quickly, breathing uneven, face tense. “Alpha.” Damian’s gaze lifted immediately. “What is it?” The guard hesitated only briefly. “The lower grounds search teams are being assembled.” A pause. “We’re preparing for full pursuit.” Liam stepped forward slightly. “Reports?” The guard nodded once. “She’s gone without trace.” That sentence landed heavier than the others. Without trace. Not wounded. Not contained. Not visible. Gone. Liam’s expression tightened. Damian didn’t move. But something in his eyes shifted subtly.

"My guess is even in what they consider extreme privacy these men aren't going to discuss specifics. If I were them, I'd be paranoid about giving voice to what they're doing." Grey nodded. "I agree. I'm surprised we got what we did." He leaned back and stretched, obviously working out the kinks in his muscles. "So, what can we do with this?" Athena decided one cup of coffee wasn't going to do it and popped another pod in the single-serving coffeemaker. "Don't know. Adam told us they've got a trace on the man's bank accounts, but as soon as they do, it makes the cash disappear." "Maybe if you let them know right away, they'll have a better chance to drop a trace," she pointed out.

The fun part about it was that it's always open. As soon as I arrived the library, I scanned every single shelves, and gathered as much books as I can on 'mastering your wolf', 'understanding your wolf', 'bonding with your wolf', anything at all that would hold any bit of information whatsoever, to help me connect with Tris. Thinking about Tris, this has been the longest she has not shown up, and I'm quite worried. Could she be gone forever? The thought alone sends shivers down my spine. I hope I'm not too late in seeking solutions myself.

To avoid being the topic of gossip, I could only use disposable items every time I went to my girlfriend, Erica Livingston's, house. She made me use disposable slippers in her house, and disposable utensils when we had our meals. Even when I stayed the night, she prepared disposable sheets for me. "If someone saw any of your things at my house, I wouldn't know how to explain it," she would tell me every time. "I'll get you everything you deserve once we go public." I waited three years for that to happen, and I had to enter her house every time as if I was a guest. This continued until one day, when she held a birthday party for her assistant, Ryan Strobe, at her house. When I opened the

I was giving orders. How do two people just vanish into thin air? People didn’t disappear like that. Not without a trace. Not without a sound. And what kind of goddamn restaurant had no cameras in its fucking corridors? I called in every single contact I had. Security team. The off-the-books guys who usually handled discreet problems. The retired detective who owed me more favors than I cared to count. Even vixen and her crew, the ones I swore I’d never ask for a favor again. Everyone.

Whoever created the trace had not needed a door, a scent, or a visible body. I studied the residue again. The pattern wasn't an attack. It held no force, only attention. Someone had marked the passage, watched Anaiyah move, and vanished without disturbing the guards. My mind reconstructed every place she had visited since arriving. The garden. Training grounds. Dining hall. Infirmary. Corridors. Every location became a possible point of contact. Every person became a potential witness, victim, or accomplice. 'Old magic,' Draven warned. 'I know.'

The kind of calm that only comes from absolute control over a situation you have not yet resolved. Nobody spoke. "He leaves no witnesses. No fingerprints. No traceable records of any kind." The images shifted. Security footage this time, pulled from cameras across multiple sites. The quality was poor because he seemed to know exactly which angles to avoid, which blind spots to exploit. What the footage showed was this: a dark figure moving through the night, dressed entirely in black, always on a motorcycle, always gone before the frame could capture anything useful. A ghost. Quite literally. "Every investigation my team has launched ends the same way," I continued, watching the room rather

"There is nothing, your majesty." Clark folded his arms across his chest, a deep frown wrinkling his forehead. "What about the scent?" We already knew the answer to that, but maybe they had caught onto something. The older tracker answered this time, clearing his throat. "We brought in every experienced tracker available. There wasn't a single scent trail to follow, despite the drag marks where the body was found." "It seems they are covering their tracks really well," Clark said. "Right," the tracker agreed, his voice cracking slightly. "Even after several days, something usually remains, but here..." He looked directly at me, with an unsettling gravity in his eyes. "It was as though whoeve

It was like sealing off two completely different worlds—the one inside and the outside, where a luxury car was parked. Dad stood up. "It's too hot outside. Boltie got a heatstroke, so I took him to the clinic. I was about to come get you." He paused before adding, "Did you hear anything earlier?" Ignoring Dad's suspicious look, I glanced at the luggage. "What's going on here?" As soon as I finished speaking, Abby sneered, and her eyes were filled with contempt. "We're just cleaning up," she said. "Cleaning up?" I frowned.

He looks at me skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “I…” I gasped, contemplating feverishly what to say to him. Thousands of ideas, but none even remotely useful. Normally I would never touch this subject, but now nothing is normal anymore. “Don’t you think it’s interesting?” I ask finally. “How can people disappear without a trace? It doesn’t hold water. There are always traces left, however tiny. Always!” I state, emphasizing the last word.