Page 117 of Alpha's Redemption

“What about this track? It leads toward the river?” I ask, finding a tourist trail.

“Too small for access by car—hiking trail?” Marcus suggests. It cuts off before it gets to the river, but it is the only trail we have found.

“Over here,” John calls out, and I look down along the road, the wind whipping my face as I turn in his direction. I can just make out his head and arm waving for us to come to him. It is bloody freezing out here. And the grass is ridiculously high along this road.

“Wait here,” I tell Marcus, and he nods, putting his head down to go over the maps again with his flashlight as I walk toward John. One is a tourist map—though why anyone would take a tour out here is beyond me—the other is just an ordinary road map.

I stop beside John, but he immediately starts walking toward the truck stop about a quarter of a mile down the road; we had passed it on the way here, but it was empty.

“What is it?” I ask him, jogging to catch up with him when he turns on his heel.

“I think I found Carter's car,” John tells me, and I pick up my pace to follow him. We walk to the far back of the truck stop, but all I see are a bathroom and some dumpsters; the place is entirely empty. Then John disappears into the long grass, which is angled wrong—bent toward the forest slightly. I follow him. Barely a couple of yards off the road, covered by branches and obscured by the grass, is a car.

“That's definitely his car,” I tell John while trying to peer in the windows, but the tint is too dark, and with the lack of light, I can’t make anything out.

The breeze picks up from the brewing storm—we will be racing the storm once the scouts and Valen arrive on the scene. Lightning has been streaking the sky for the past half hour, and the thunder is growing louder as it gets closer. The trees sway, bending in the wind whipping through the mountains, making it howl and whistle like something possessed.

“He can't be too far, surely. That’s dense forest,” John mutters, his eyes scanning the area.

“Yes. Unless Macey was knocked out, he would struggle to drag her through it; she would have fought.”

“Not necessarily. Macey is smart. She would bide her time and wait, knowing we would search for her,” Johns says, turning and staring at the ground and looking for tracks.

“What do you want to do?” I ask. He glances back toward the road.

“Valen will be hours away,” John mutters, peering back into the forest's darkness.

“Not with the way my son drives,” I tell him, knowing Valen doesn't seem to understand speed limits or how to abide by them. My son seems to have a lead foot. Even so, it would take him time to get here.

“I’m going in and taking a look around,” John says, walking around the car.

“Wait, let me tell Marcus. And I will come with you. Marcus can hang back for Valen and the others to arrive,” I tell him before walking out of the long grass and back to the road.

I make my way back to Marcus and let him know, and he fiddles with my phone, linking it to his. Walking around the back of my car, I pop the trunk and grab some flashlights before returning to John, who is stripping his clothes off.

“You're shifting?” I ask, and he nods.

“One of us should. Besides, I didn't bring my glasses, and my eyesight is better shifted,” he laughs. I nod. Best to be a little prepared. Goddess knows what we will run into out there.

“You got the app open?” he asks, and I nod, holding up my phone to see her name blinking on and off. It will not give us a direct location though—it just flashes in general on the screen, but not in one spot, as if the signal is being blown around and bounced off things.

John sets his clothes on the car's roof and then shifts, and I turn the flashlight on before stepping into the forest after him. The darkness under the canopy of trees swallows us instantly. The place is silent, all noise dying out when it senses John, a predator, stalking through with his nose to the ground, tracking. Not even the crickets chirp. We move a little deeper, and after ten minutes or so, John starts sniffing a large fern under a tree.

“What have you found?” I ask him.

‘Blood,’John mind-links back, and I shine the flashlight on the fern he was sniffing to see speckles of blood on the stalks. It has dried, and I pluck a leaf off and sniff it.

“Macey's,” I tell John, and he nods, peering into the darkness. A soft growl escapes him and he lowers his head, moving through the trees silently, with me following behind.

ChapterFifty-Two

Macey

“You’re right, itisinevitable. But that doesn’t mean it has to be unpleasant, right?” I ask before climbing between his legs. His eyes weigh heavily on me as I reach for the waistband of his pants.

My fingers tremble as I grip them and slide them down his legs, only for him to grab my shoulders and haul me up his body. He crushes me against his body, and rolls on top of me, his hips sliding between my legs and pressing against me as he purrs.

His hands reach for the thin slip dress and he bunches it before slipping it over my head. Tossing it aside, his lips go to my chest. My skin buzzes and comes alive at his touch, tingles spreading everywhere as he captures my nipple in his mouth.

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