“Funny,” I muttered, pacing the archives. “Red disappears, and Gail gets sick the same damn morning.”
I woke to morning sunlight filtering through the canopy above, alone in the Whispering Grove with grass stains on my clothes and the scent of pine and something uniquely feminine lingering on my skin. For a moment, I lay there disoriented, my body aching in ways that spoke of the night before, my mind struggling to process the absence where Red should have been. She was gone. Completely gone, as if she'd never been there at all.
I sat up slowly, running a hand through my disheveled hair, and looked around the clearing. No trace of her remained, no scent trail I could follow, no warmth in the grass beside me, no indication that the most incredible night of my life had actually happened. Only my wrinkled shirt and the phantom sensation of her skin against mine proved it hadn't been another vivid dream.
"Red?" I called out, though I knew it was useless. The forest felt empty, abandoned, like even the wildlife was avoiding the scene of my abandonment.
I buttoned my shirt with fingers that shook slightly, trying to make sense of what had happened. The night had been perfect, more than perfect. The way she'd responded to my touch, the way we'd moved together like we'd been made for each other, the way she'd gasped my name in the darkness. It felt like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I hadn't known was missing.
But then she left, again. Just like every other time we'd met, she'd vanished before dawn, leaving me with nothing but questions and an aching sense of loss. Why couldn't she stay? Why wouldn't she tell me who she was, where she came from, anything real about herself? And why did it feel like she was running from more than just the sunrise?
I made my way back through the forest, my thoughts churning with frustration and longing in equal measure. Part of me wanted to search every inch of pack territory until I found her. Part of me wondered if I was losing my mind, falling for a woman who might not even be real.
But she was real. The taste of her lips, the softness of her skin, the way she'd trembled in my arms, none of that could have been imagined. She was real, and she was in pain about something. I'd seen it in her eyes last night, the way she'd looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like she thought it might be the last time.
The thought made my chest tight with panic. What if it was the last time? What if whatever was keeping her from telling me the truth was also keeping her from coming back? By the time I reached the pack grounds, the sun was fully up and the day's activities were well underway. I needed a shower, clean clothes, and something to distract myself from the growing certainty that I was falling in love with a ghost.
The archives, I'd go to the archives and lose myself in work with Gail. Her quiet competence and dry observations always managed to ground me, to remind me that there were still real, tangible things in the world that made sense. But when I pushed open the heavy wooden door, expecting to hear her sardonic commentary about whatever historical disaster I'd misfiled, I found only silence.
The room was empty. Gail's usual chair sat vacant, her carefully organized stacks of documents undisturbed from the day before. No tea mug on the table, no scratching of her pen as she made meticulous notes in the margins of centuries-old scrolls.
I waited, telling myself she was probably just running late or had stopped to help her mother with something. But minutes stretched into an hour, and still no sign of her. I pretended to review territorial agreements from the 1800s, but my eyes kept drifting to the door, expecting her to walk through at any moment with an apologetic smile and some perfectly logical explanation for her absence. She never came.
Finally, I gave up the pretense and went looking for answers. I found Mira in the main hall, surrounded by staff members as they reviewed final preparations for our rapidly approaching mating ceremony. She looked beautiful in a pale green dress that complemented her olive skin, every inch the perfect Luna-to-be, but something about the scene made my stomach clench with guilt.
"Wyatt," she said, looking up from a list of floral arrangements. "I didn't expect to see you today. Shouldn't you be working in the archives?"
"That's what I came to ask about. Gail isn't there. Do you know where she is?"
Mira's expression shifted, a small frown creasing her brow. "She sent word this morning that she wasn't feeling well. Said she needed to rest today."
"She's sick?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended, and I saw several staff members glance in my direction with curiosity.
"That's what she said. Why? Is it urgent?"
I forced myself to sound casual. "No, just... we had a lot of work planned for today. I hope she feels better soon."
Mira studied my face with the careful attention she'd always possessed, and I had the uncomfortable feeling she was reading more into my concern than I wanted her to. "I'm sure she'll be back tomorrow. Gail never misses work unless she absolutely has to."
"Right. Of course." I nodded and turned to leave, but Mira's voice stopped me.
"Wyatt? Are you all right? You seem... distracted lately."
"Just tired. Too many late nights." The irony of the statement wasn't lost on me.
"Well, try to get some rest. We have the final ceremony preparations tomorrow, and I need my future mate present and alert." Her words should have brought me comfort, should have reminded me of my duty and the life I was supposed to be building. Instead, they sat heavy in my chest like stones.
I walked away from the planning session with my mind racing. Red had vanished without explanation. Gail was mysteriously absent for the first time in weeks. And something deep in my gut was telling me that these weren't coincidences.
But what could they possibly have to do with each other? One was a mysterious woman who appeared only under blood moons, who spoke in riddles and disappeared with the dawn. The other was the Beta's quiet daughter, intelligent and observant but firmly rooted in the mundane reality of pack life. They couldn't be more different if they tried.
So why did their simultaneous absence feel like pieces of the same puzzle? And why did I have the growing suspicion that there was something crucial I was missing, something that would explain the restless ache that had been growing in my chest for weeks?
I spent the rest of the day trying to lose myself in training and pack business, but my mind kept circling back to the same questions. Where had Red gone? Why was Gail avoiding me? And why did both absences feel like betrayals, like abandonments I wasn't prepared to handle?
Something was wrong, and something was missing. And I was starting to suspect that until I figured out what it was, I wasn't going to find any peace.