The Avila mansion had become a fortress of silence and shadows.
Four months had passed since Claire disappeared on what should have been their wedding day. Four months of aching emptiness that no amount of power or money could fill. Xander had transformed in that time — the once warm, protective Alpha had become something colder, sharper, and far more ruthless.
He stood in the war room of his private office, surrounded by maps, surveillance reports, and red strings connecting every possible lead. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached. The mate bond, once a bright golden thread, was now a faint, painful whisper — too distant to trace clearly. Claire had gone far enough, or blocked it well enough, that he could barely feel her.
“Any new leads
