Chapter 10
CECELIAS POV
"Vehicle tracks?" Zeke asked.
"None that we could find. The ground there is mostly rock and dirt, hard to leave impressions." Ryder looked apologetic. "But we did interview witnesses. Three separate pack members reported seeing a dark vehicle, possibly an SUV, parked near the preschool that afternoon."
"Same vehicle the teacher mentioned," I said.
"Yes. We're pulling traffic footage from the main roads leading out of Seacreek, but it's going to take time. Most of their cameras are outdated."
Zeke nodded slowly, processing the information. "What about the preschool staff? Any of them behave suspiciously?"
"We questioned all of them. Everyone's alibis check out." Ryder hesitated. "But there is something odd. One of the teachers mentioned that a woman had been asking questions about Golden a few weeks ago."
My head snapped up. "What kind of questions?"
"General things. Who his mother was, where they lived, if the father was in the picture." Ryder consulted his notes. "The teacher thought it was strange but not alarming. She assumed it was just another pack member being nosy."
"Description of the woman?" Zeke's voice had gone cold.
"Mid thirties, dark hair, average height. The teacher said she seemed professional, well dressed. She claimed to be doing a survey for the pack school system."
I exchanged a glance with Zeke. Seacreek didn't have a pack school system. It was too small. Everyone knew everyone.
"The teacher realize it was suspicious afterward?" I asked.
"Not until we started asking questions." Ryder looked grim. "By then it was too late."
Zeke dismissed the trackers with orders to continue investigating. When we were alone again, he pulled out his phone and made another call.
"I'm sending you a description. I want facial recognition run against every wolf in our database and neighboring packs." He paused, listening. "Yes, I know it's a long shot. Do it anyway."
He ended the call and looked at me. "We should get you back to your quarters. It's late."
I glanced at the window, surprised to see it was fully dark outside. Hours had passed in meetings and reports and I hadn't even noticed. Time felt strange when your child was missing, both too fast and unbearably slow.
Zeke walked with me through the quiet hallways. Most of the palace had gone to sleep. Our footsteps echoed against marble floors.
"Thank you," I said softly. "For taking this seriously. For using your resources."
"He's my son, Cecelia. Of course I'm taking it seriously."
We reached my door. I fumbled for the key but Zeke's hand on my arm stopped me.
"Wait." He stepped in front of me, checking the door frame, the lock, the space under the door. "Let me make sure it's safe first."
The caution should have reassured me. Instead, it made my skin crawl. I'd spent three years in Seacreek feeling safe, feeling like I could breathe. Now I was back to checking over my shoulder, afraid of threats in the dark.
Zeke opened the door and checked inside before nodding. "Clear."
I entered and he followed, which surprised me. He stood in the middle of my temporary quarters looking out of place among the soft blues and gentle colors. Everything about Zeke was hard angles and sharp edges. He didn't fit in spaces designed for comfort.
"Tell me about Seacreek," he said suddenly. "What was your life like there?"
The question caught me off guard. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I don't know anything about the last three years of your life." He moved to the window, that same restless energy I remembered. "You vanished. I thought you were dead. And then you show up with a child I never knew existed. I need to understand what happened. Where you've been."
I sat on the edge of the bed, exhaustion pulling at my bones. "What do you want me to say? That it was hard? That I struggled? It was. I did."
"How did you survive?" The question came out rough. "Three months in a coma, then waking up pregnant and alone in a strange pack. How did you manage?"
"Fatima helped me." I picked at a loose thread on the bedspread. "She took me in when she found me on the beach. She nursed me back to health. When I woke up with no memory, she didn't push. She just let me heal at my own pace."
"And when your memory came back?"
"I remembered everything. The rejection. Layla. The cliff." I forced myself to meet his eyes. "I remembered that you chose her over me. That you never loved me. That our entire marriage was based on duty and political necessity."
Zeke's jaw worked. "Cecelia—"
"I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm just explaining why I didn't come back. Why would I? You'd made it clear I was expendable. Layla had tried to kill me. There was nothing for me here."
"There was me," he said quietly.
I laughed but there was no humor in it. "You rejected me, Zeke. You stood in your office and told me you wanted to be free to marry my sister. Why would I come crawling back to that?"
"Because I made a mistake." He moved closer, his voice urgent. "Everything that happened, everything I said to you that day, it was the worst mistake of my life."
"Don't." I stood up, needing distance. "Don't do this now. Not when Golden is missing. Not when I'm too tired and scared to think straight."
"Then when?" His frustration leaked through. "When are we going to talk about what happened between us?"
"Maybe never," I shot back. "Maybe some things are better left in the past where they belong."
"Is that what you want? To pretend the last three years erased everything?"
"The last three years changed everything." My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "I'm not the girl you married, Zeke. That Cecelia died on those cliffs. The woman standing here now, she doesn't need you anymore. She doesn't need anyone."
Something flickered across his face. Pain, maybe. Or regret. "You needed me enough to come back."
"I needed your resources. Your trackers and your connections and your money. That's not the same as needing you."
The words were cruel and I knew it. I wanted them to be cruel. I wanted him to hurt the way I'd hurt when he told me he loved Layla, when he said our bond meant nothing, when he made me feel worthless and small.
But Zeke didn't flinch. He just watched me with those unreadable eyes. "Tell me about Golden," he said, changing tactics. "What's he like?"
The question defused my anger instantly. Talking about Golden always did that, softened the sharp edges inside me. "He's perfect. Smart and funny and so full of energy. He never stops moving, never stops asking questions."
"Does he look like me?"
"You've seen the photo. You know he does." I pulled out my phone, showing him more pictures. Golden at the beach, covered in sand. Golden helping Fatima with her nets. Golden's first day of preschool, his little backpack almost as big as he was. "Everyone in Seacreek always commented on his eyes. They'd never seen that color before."
Zeke studied each photo intently, his expression hungry. "I missed all of this."
"Yes."
"I missed his birth. His first word. His first steps." His voice went rough. "I missed three years of my son's life because I was too stupid and blind to see what I had when I had it."
I wanted to agree, to pile on more guilt, but something in his voice stopped me. He sounded destroyed. Absolutely wrecked by what he'd lost.
"You can't get that time back," I said softly. "None of us can. All we can do is move forward."
"Is there a chance?" He looked at me directly. "When this is over, when we find Golden and bring him home safe, is there any chance for us? For our family?"
The question hung in the air between us. I wanted to say no immediately, to shut down any hope before it could take root. But the words wouldn't come. Because part of me, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be held by him, to fall asleep next to him, to believe we could be happy together, that part wanted to say yes.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I honestly don't know, Zeke."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CECELIAS POV
He nodded like he'd expected that answer. "Fair enough." He moved toward the door. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll start going through anyone who might have known about Golden."
"Wait." The word escaped before I could stop it. "That portrait in the hallway. The one of you and Layla and Cameron."
His shoulders tensed. "What about it?"
"You look like a family." I hated how small my voice sounded. "A real family. Happy."
Zeke turned to face me fully. "That portrait was commissioned by the pack council two years ago. They wanted something official for the main hall. Something that showed stability and continuity after your death."
"So it was just for show?"
"Everything with Layla was for show." His expression hardened. "We were never together, Cecelia. Not the way that portrait suggests. Not the way you're imagining."
"But she lives here. She has Cameron. She acts like the Luna in everything but name."
"Because the pack needed a female presence and she was the only option." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "After you died, after she lost the baby, Layla spiraled. She blamed herself for your death even though I never knew why. She became obsessed with Cameron, with being the perfect mother, the perfect pack member."
"And you just let her stay here?"
"Where else would she go?" His voice rose slightly. "She was my dead mate's sister. The pack accepted her because they thought it honored your memory. How could I throw her out without looking like a monster?"
I absorbed this information slowly. "So you never loved her? Even after I was gone?"
"I thought I loved her once, a long time ago. Before the war, before our fathers tore our packs apart." He moved closer again. "But whatever I felt for her died the day I marked you. The day I made you mine and then treated you like you meant nothing."
"I did mean nothing to you."
"You meant everything to me." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "That was the problem. I married you thinking I could keep my heart locked away, that I could do my duty without getting attached. But every day with you made it harder to maintain that distance. Every smile, every laugh, every moment you tried to make our marriage work despite knowing I didn't love you, it broke down my walls."
"Then why did you push me away?" Tears burned my eyes. "Why did you choose her?"
"Because I'm a coward." The admission came out flat, emotionless. "Because loving you meant admitting I'd been wrong about everything. Wrong about Layla, wrong about duty over emotion, wrong about who I was supposed to be." He shook his head. "By the time I realized what I'd thrown away, you were gone. Dead. And I had to live with knowing my cowardice killed you."
"Layla killed me. Or tried to."
"I gave her the opportunity." His eyes met mine, and I saw genuine anguish there. "If I'd been a better mate, a better husband, she never would have felt threatened enough to push you off that cliff. Your blood is on my hands as much as hers."
I didn't know what to say to that. Part of me wanted to argue, to tell him he was being dramatic. But another part recognized the truth in his words. If Zeke had chosen me, truly chosen me, maybe Layla never would have acted.
"We can't change the past," I said finally.
"No. But I can spend every day for the rest of my life trying to make up for it." He moved to the door again. "Get some rest, Cecelia. We have a long day tomorrow."
After he left, I changed into my sleeping clothes and crawled into bed. The sheets smelled like lavender and something else, something that reminded me of the palace as it used to be. Before everything went wrong.
Sleep didn't come easy. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Golden's face in that photograph. His tears. His fear. My baby needed me and I was lying in a comfortable bed in a palace while he suffered somewhere.
I must have eventually drifted off because I woke to early morning light streaming through the window. My phone showed three missed calls from Fatima. I called her back immediately.
"Cecelia, thank the goddess." Fatima sounded relieved. "I've been trying to reach you for hours."
"I'm sorry, I was asleep. What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong exactly, but I remembered something. That woman who was asking questions about Golden a few weeks ago? I saw her."
I sat up straight. "You saw her? When? Where?"
"She came to my house about a month ago claiming to be doing a census for the pack. She asked about everyone living with me, including you and Golden." Fatima's voice went tight. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. We get pack officials through sometimes doing surveys. But now that the trackers mentioned it, I remember. She was very interested in Golden specifically. Asked his age, whether his father was involved, where he went to school."
"What did you tell her?"
"Just the basics. That you lived with me, that Golden was three, that he attended the local preschool." Fatima paused. "Cecelia, I'm so sorry. If I'd known—"
"It's not your fault," I interrupted. "You couldn't have known what she was planning. Did you tell the trackers this?"
"Yes, I called them as soon as I remembered. They're coming back to take a full statement."
I thanked Fatima and ended the call, my mind racing. This woman had been gathering information about Golden for at least a month. This wasn't a random kidnapping. Someone had been watching us, planning this, waiting for the right moment.
I dressed quickly and went to find Zeke. His office door was open, which surprised me. He sat at his desk surrounded by files and his laptop, looking like he hadn't slept at all.
"Fatima called," I said without preamble. "She saw the woman too. The one asking questions about Golden."
Zeke looked up sharply. "When?"
"About a month ago. The woman came to her house claiming to do a pack census." I moved closer to his desk. "Zeke, this was planned. Whoever took Golden has been watching us for weeks, maybe longer."
"I know." He turned his laptop to face me. The screen showed a grainy traffic camera image of a dark SUV. "This vehicle was caught on camera leaving Seacreek the afternoon Golden disappeared. We're working on enhancing the image to get a license plate, but the angle is bad."
I studied the image. The SUV looked expensive, the kind that wealthy pack members or Alpha families drove. "Do you recognize it?"
"Not yet. But we will." He closed the laptop. "I need you to make a list for me."
"A list of what?"
"Everyone who knew you were alive. Everyone in Seacreek who knew about Golden, who knew he was my son." His expression was grim. "We need to consider that someone from your new life betrayed you."
The words hit me like cold water. "No. The people in Seacreek, they wouldn't—"
"Someone gave information to that woman." Zeke's voice was firm but not unkind. "Someone told her where to find you, where Golden went to school, enough details to plan this kidnapping. We need to figure out who."
I sank into the chair across from his desk. The list would be short. Fatima obviously. Her children, though they were too young to understand what they might have overheard. A few neighbors who'd become friends. The preschool staff. My boss at the market where I worked part time.
"It could have been innocent," I said weakly. "Someone mentioning Golden in passing, not realizing—"
"Maybe." Zeke pulled out a notepad. "But we need to investigate everyone. Anyone who might want to hurt you through Golden. Anyone who might have a grudge against you or against me."
"Against you? Why would someone with a grudge against you target Golden?"
"Because he's my son. Because hurting him hurts me." Zeke's jaw was tight. "I've made enemies over the years, Cecelia. Other Alphas who disagreed with my decisions. Wolves I've exiled or punished. It's possible someone found out about Golden and saw an opportunity for revenge."
The thought made me sick. My baby caught up in pack politics and old grudges that had nothing to do with him. He was innocent. He was just a little boy who liked playing in the sand and helping Fatima with her fishing nets and asking endless questions about everything.
"Start with Seacreek," Zeke said, pushing the notepad toward me. "Write down every name you can think of. We'll go through them one by one."
I picked up the pen with shaking hands and began to write. Fatima's name went first, though I knew in my bones she had nothing to do with this. Then her children. Then the neighbors, my coworkers, the preschool staff. The list grew longer than I expected, and with each name my heart grew heavier.
One of these people had betrayed me. One of them had given information that led to my son being taken. The thought was unbearable.
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