Kael’s POV

Sleep hadn’t touched me in days.

I stood in the war room of the pack house, maps spread across the long oak table, red pins marking every lead, every whisper, every shadow that might have been Venessa. My jaw ached from how hard I’d been clenching it, my hands braced against the table as though if I pressed hard enough, the answers would finally spill out.

But nothing spilled. Nothing except the rage that boiled in my chest.

“Report,” I barked.

Three of my best trackers stood before me, mud caked on their boots, exhaustion etched into their faces. Still, they didn’t dare falter. Not in front of...