So here he was, returning to the only place he’d ever truly thought of as home. At least since he’d left his childhood behind. The scenery might not be as dramatic as the craggy seaside cliffs near Killian’s Mount in Ireland, where he’d been raised as a boy, but the mountains held an undeniable beauty. And the half-human/half-Lycan hunters who lived there were not only his friends, but also his family in the truest sense of the word.
Hell, the Runners were more like family to him than anyone who still walked this earth and shared his blood. And yet, he’d turned his back on them because of her. Because of a little slip of a witch named Sayre Murphy. Until today, he hadn’t seen or spoken to them since he’d left that fateful night. Not even an email or a text. So there was no telling what kind of reception he was about to receive from the men and women who protected the Silvercrest pack from its enemies.
He only knew it wasn’t likely to be a warm one.
Parking the black Audi he’d arranged to have waiting for him at Dulles in the grass at the side of the road, he turned off the engine and climbed out, his narrowed eyes taking in his surroundings while he shut the car door and slipped the key fob in his front pocket. As he drew in a deep breath of the crisp mountain air, the scent of the surrounding forest was so achingly familiar that, for a moment, he felt as if his chest might crush inward from the force of regret pressing in on him.
But despite the familiarity of that woodsy scent, the Alley hadn’t remained unchanged in his absence, the passage of time marked by differences that were both big and small. He hadn’t been there to see the picnic tables repainted, or to help with the completion of the impressive cabins that now stood at the far end of the glade. Had missed the paving of the road and the additions that had been built onto many of the original cabins, where his friends and their mates lived. He could have undoubtedly spotted more changes, but the sight of the tall, auburn-haired Bloodrunner headed straight for him diverted his attention.
The welcoming party, it appeared, was on its way. Though there definitely didn’t seem to be anything remotely welcoming about it. No, if he were reading the situation correctly, his former Bloodrunning partner, Brody Carter, looked more likely to throw a bone-crushing punch than he did to go in for a bro hug, and something sharp twisted in Cian’s chest.
What did you expect? the wolf part of his nature grumbled inside his head. He might have been our best friend, but you destroyed that when you turned your back on him. Asshole.
Knowing damn well how true the beast’s snide words were, he hardened his jaw, determined to take whatever Brody felt like dishing out without retaliating. He pushed his hands in his pockets and waited as Brody closed in on him, surprised to see that the guy looked even bigger than he’d been before. Brody had always been muscular, but now he was cut in a way that was truly impressive, his tall body rippling with power as he stalked toward him. The Runner’s auburn hair was long again, but pulled back from his scarred face. And there were little laugh lines that crinkled at the edges of his green eyes, attesting to the fact that he was a happily married man who loved his life—even if those green eyes were currently narrowed in fury. Not that he could blame him. If Brody had bailed on the Alley the way Cian had, he would have been so angry it’d be hard to hold back.
Behind Brody’s broad shoulder, he spotted the guy’s human wife, Michaela, as she came down the porch steps of her and Brody’s cabin. The Cajun’s dark hair was still long and curly, and even from that distance Cian could tell that she remained incredibly beautiful. Marriage obviously suited the two of them, and he found himself remembering back to the obstacles they’d faced when they’d first gotten together.
During the last months that Cian had lived in the Alley, there were times when he’d felt like one hell of a matchmaker. On several occasions, he’d even gone so far as to claim that he wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d watched his friends make when his own woman finally came along—but in the end, it’d been nothing but talk. Talk he couldn’t back up, because happily-ever-after had never been an option for him.
Instead, finding his woman meant he should run as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction, and never look back. The kindest that fate could have been was to connect him with a female who wasn’t a part of the Silvercrest. One he could ignore and keep his distance from, without leaving his friends. But that hadn’t happened.
No, he’d been linked with beautiful little Sayre. That right there just proved that the universe had an exceptionally sick sense of humor.
Though he tried not to fixate on her, he kept scanning the Alley beyond Brody, searching for that familiar heart-shaped face and strawberry-blond hair. But she wasn’t there. Besides Brody and Mic, the place was unusually empty. He’d texted Brody’s old number when he’d landed, warning him that he was coming, and had naturally assumed that Sayre would be waiting for him. She no doubt had a hell of a lot to say to him, after the way he’d left. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t once tried to contact her in the last five years. But there wasn’t any sign of her. He told himself not to panic, that she most likely didn’t live in the Alley and was probably up in Shadow Peak, the mountaintop town that the Silvercrest Lycans called home, which was only a few miles away. Hell, she could be on her way down to see him at that very moment.
But when he pulled in another deep, searching breath, his heart started to hammer even harder as he realized that Sayre’s mouthwatering scent was nowhere to be found. Not even the slightest trace. It made a cold sliver of fear begin to coil through his insides, keeping company with his tension. From the moment her older sister, Jillian, had moved down to the Alley to live with a Bloodrunner named Jeremy Burns, Sayre had been a constant feature at the couple’s cabin. So what was keeping her away now?
Looking at Brody, who had just come to a stop no more than five feet in front of him, he cut off whatever the Runner was going to say with a rough, impatient burst of words. “I know you want to tell me to get lost, and after the way I left, you have every right. But I came back for a reason. I need to talk to Sayre. Where is she?”
Brody’s green eyes burned with an even brighter surge of anger. “You think she’s with the pack?”
Cian scowled. “Where else would she be?”
God, if she’d found someone and moved away with him he was going to completely lose it.
Michaela reached her husband’s side, a concerned look on her beautiful face as she said, “Cian, Sayre doesn’t live with the Silvercrest anymore.”
Thinking this must be some kind of ploy to either screw with him or protect the young witch, he held Michaela’s troubled gaze. “I’m not here to make things hard for her, Mic. I just...I came back because I need to talk to her.”
Though human, Michaela possessed the unique ability to psychically “read” others’ emotions, and Cian could only imagine what she was picking up from him at that moment: frustration, fear, guilt, anger, regret and, beneath it all, a seething, never-ending need for something he could never have. She slid Brody a quick glance, then delicately cleared her throat as she looked at Cian and said, “We’re not lying. As much as I hate to say it, she honestly isn’t here.”
So many raw, visceral curses suddenly crowded into his throat, he thought he might choke on them. He swallowed a few times, then finally managed to scrape out a single word. “Why?”
His insides twisted when he noticed the way they glanced at each other again, as if neither of them knew how much to tell him. Or what to tell him.
“After you left,” Michaela finally murmured, taking a careful breath, “there were...well, some
