Christian’s POV

It’s been two weeks.

Two weeks of nothing.

No scent. No trace. No leads.

Nothing.

I stood on the porch of the pack house, my hand gripping the railing so tightly that I could feel the wood splinter beneath my fingers. The frustration that simmered beneath my skin was boiling over, pushing me to the brink. My chest heaved, a mixture of exhaustion and fury coiling inside me like a beast ready to break free.

Everyone was doing their best. I knew that. But knowing didn’t help. Knowing didn’t stop the gnawing, biting anxiety from shredding me apart. It didn’t silence the cold whisper at the back of...