Page 29 of The Alpha's Fated Bond

“I don’t know,” Patrick finally says. “It seems like you’re putting Sophia right in the spotlight.”

“There’s no other way to court her, Patrick.”

It’s not like I can’t see the risk in my plan. But throughout the journey from Sophia’s town to my village, I considered different scenarios. This is the only plausible one.

“In the meantime,” I add, “does Nathan still have all telecommunication services blocked? We have to prevent Karina from finding out we’ve returned. The soldiers are going to try to initiate contact with her.”

“Yup. He taught Hilda how to keep the interference going while we were gone, and he took over when we came back. For now, we’re safe,” Saul replies. “There is something you should know, though. About the information coming from the South Alliance.”

I stiffen. “What information?”

Saul grimaces. “Exactly. There isn’t any. An Alpha was murdered down there. Our spies should’ve picked up on unrest within the pack. Nothing is going on, though. It’s like the entire pack has closed ranks. Not even a fly can get in there undetected.”

“Is that necessarily bad?” Jared asks, leaning forward in his chair and looking at Saul.

“It is,” I answer thoughtfully. “If the pack has cut all communication and no information is leaking through, that means the Red Rock Wolf Pack is up to something. I can only assume that Noah has taken his father’s place. And if he has,Sophia’s freedom has a time limit. She will only be free from the South Alliance if she wears my mating mark. Once she becomes the Alpha Female of the Moonrise Wolf Pack, the South Alliance cannot touch her.”

The silence in the room is heavy. None of this is good news.

***

I’ve been gone for a couple of hours before I return to Sophia’s room, and when I open the door, she’s sitting on the bed, awake. I freeze.

She turns her head to face me. “Where are you coming from?”

“I went to meet Jared and the others.”

“At this time of night?”

There’s no suspicion in Sophia’s voice, just curiosity.

“Some things are better done in the dark,” I respond. “Why are you awake?”

She shrugs, and I realize that she has the blanket wrapped around herself. Alarm fills me.

“Are you cold?”

She shakes her head. “I had the dream again. About that silver wolf.”

For a moment, I don’t understand what she’s talking about. And then I recall the first night I spent in Sophia’s apartment, when I’d been injured and she rescued me. She was sleeping by my bedside, her head resting on the bed, and she had a terrible dream about a wolf with silver fur. She never told me muchabout it, and I never probed into the matter. But from the way she’s phrasing it, it seems that it is a recurring dream and not a one-off event.

“You’ve been dreaming about the silver wolf?”

“A silver wolf,” Sophia corrects me. “It is the same dream, Alex. There’s a long corridor with jail cells on each side. The air is putrid; it smells terrible in there. There’s no sunlight. It’s a horrible place. And in the last cell on the right, there’s a silver wolf lying in the corner, chained to the wall. Her fur is silver, but it’s dirty, as if it’s been ages since she’s taken a bath.”

Her voice is unsteady as she continues. “She’s sleeping, almost unconscious. Sometimes she’s awake and looks at me. But she never shifts into her human form. She just gazes at me so sadly. I’ve tried to talk to her; I’ve asked her who she is, where she is. But she says nothing. And this time, she looked like she’s lost even more weight, if that was possible. She already looked half-starved but now, tonight, she looked completely emaciated.”

Sophia’s words are growing softer and quieter, and there’s a thickness to them, as if she’s on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to have this dream again. It’s like I know her but I don’t know her, Alex. I can’t bear to see her like that.”

“Maybe she’s a figment of your imagination?” I suggest, but it doesn’t feel right to me.

Sophia isn’t offended by what I say. “No, I don’t think so. It’s something else. Do you think…” When she looks at me, I glimpse a mixture of fear and hope in her eyes. “Do you think it could be my mother?”

I sit down on the bed beside her, studying her. “Your mother?”

“Robert Black did say she was alive.” In her eagerness, Sophia shrugs off the blanket and grabs my arm. “Or maybe I’m going crazy? Maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s—Maybe—”

She can’t seem to get the words out.

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