Page 28 of Brutal Mate

The murmuring from his other packmates told him that the longer this conversation went on, the more questions they were going to have, and right now he was in no mood to answer any of them.

From the second he had heard the name Miley followed by the word missing, his hackles had been standing on end, and his entire body was fizzling with adrenaline.

Had he any idea of where to look, he would have already been out the door by now.

“What if she does not wish to be found?” Jack asked, speaking the words carefully, words Kane might have said far less politely.

“Oh, please, Mayor Blackwell, we must find her, we simply must!” Mrs. Peters said pleadingly—so pleadingly, in fact, it made Kane’s skin crawl. She was a terrible actress.

“If I have to search all night and day myself, I will,” Mr. Peters said, raising his head high. "I'll do whatever it takes, but as our families are soon to be joined,” he paused, looking to Kane and then back at Jack before finishing, “we had hoped you might see fit to help us.”

Another round of murmuring struck among his packmates, and Kane’s insides twisted into painful knots.

Jack dipped his head and cleared his throat. When he looked at Kane, his intentions were clear even before he spoke.

“Kane, as Miley's husband-to-be, perhaps you ought to be the one to volunteer to find her?”

Gasps of shock filled the room then. Only Zander did not appear surprised, and Kane suspected that Jack had told him everything. It was only right. He was the beta of the pack, after all.

But it surprised Kane that even Bonnie and Layla were shocked. He hadn’t imagined either the alpha or the beta keeping things from their mates.

Inhaling deeply, Kane gave a curt nod. “I'll look for her. Do you have any idea of where she might go outside Nightstar?”

The Peters couple looked at each other, shaking their heads. When they looked at him again, Kane's small hope that they might actually have something helpful dimmed.

“Miley has never gone further than Pine Valley before,” Mrs. Peters explained. “And she hasn't been there since she was yea high.”

She gestured to her waist as she spoke, and oddly, Kane smiled. Just imagining a young Miley, no taller than her mother's waist, made him all warm inside. It was an odd sensation that he was forced to push away quickly. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted.

“So you don't have any friends outside Nightstar? Any family she might go to?” Jack asked before Kane could ask the question himself.

Again, the Peterses looked at each other, and just when Kane thought they were as useless as a bucket with a hole in it, Mr. Peters turned to him and shrugged. “My mother has a farm up north. I hated the place as a kid, but I did have some good memories of the place. I used to tell Miley stories, and she always seemed in awe of it. She always said she'd like to see it someday.”

Kane sighed. It was a long shot, but it might well be their only lead.

“What's the address?” he demanded, “I'll try there first.”

Nausea clawed his stomach. Only days ago, he had never considered marriage, a mate, or even a real relationship, and yet here he was, about to go gallivanting off in search of a woman. It didn't really matter to him that she was likely a woman who didn't want to be found. All that mattered to him was being sure she was safe.

If he turned up at this grandmother's farm and she was there, safe and sound, he would happily leave her there to continue living her life. Or at least, that's what he told himself over and over as he prepared to leave.

Chapter 12 - Miley

It took two days to make it to what Miley thought was the old Peters Farm. The sign at the end of the lane where she had gotten off the third bus was so faded it was hard to tell if it even said Peters on it.

But she was hopeful. And after two days of walking, hitchhiking, and buses, sleeping in bus shelters and stations, she was more than ready for a bit of luck and a good rest.

All she could pray for was the fact her grandmother was still the same woman from her father's stories. The woman who had made him breakfast and cookies and tucked him into bed at night even though his father had been as cruel and abusive as he was now.

Old man Peters was long dead and buried from what she had heard. Widowed, her grandmother might be glad of the company. That, or she was so used to her own company, she did not fancy the idea of anyone coming in and spoiling it.

Trudging up the lane, she felt like it might never end, but as the open fields on either side turned to shaded woodland, she at least found respite from the driving heat of the sun.

Her forearm was aching terribly, and her feet were so sore she thought that the second she took her converse trainers off they'd swell up like balloons.

Reaching the gate at the end of the lane, she marveled at beauty of the place. A white-painted farmhouse stood at the far end of the yard. To the right stood a red and white all-American barn and to the left a vast garden filled with flower beds and vegetable patches. Beyond that there appeared to be an orchard, and surrounding it all there were fields as far as the eye could see.

“Well,” she said aloud, sucking in a deep, steadying breath. “Here goes nothing.”

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