The road to La Ber was quiet, which was not surprising in view of what had happened on the Eastern Ridge. The truck rumbled along the twisting coastal road, tires biting on gravel and asphalt in equal measure.
The windows were open a little to let in the salt air, and the afternoon sun slanted through the trees, making shifting patterns of light and shadow on the seats.
Sebastian sat in the passenger seat, one elbow on the door, chin braced in his knuckles. His eyes were on the road ahead, but he wasn't really seeing it. His thoughts were somewhere else.
Now it had been elsewhere for weeks.
Zachary was driving. Hands on the wheel, posture relaxed but alert. In the back, Timothy and Shane, with Lyla wedged between them.
Timothy's nose was in a battered notebook. He was leafing through pages of scrawled notes.
Shane stared out the window watching the trees whiz by. Lyla had her eyes closed and her head back against the seat, but no one thought she was really asleep.
Zachary turned off the main road to the left, under the arch to La Ber. "We should be able to reach La Ber by nightfall," he murmured.
"Why don't you guys sleep for now," Zachary murmured.
His voice was low. Like a dad telling his kids things. "I haven't been here in ages. That brings back memories."
Sebastian did not turn but nodded. He kept his eyes on the road, on the white lines and the occasional bird that crossed the asphalt.
But his mind was elsewhere. On another road. on some other person.
Timothy looked up from his book. "You've been pretty quiet."
His tone was light but probing. "More than usual.
"I'm always quiet," said Sebastian.
No. You do not usually speak. There's a difference."
Timothy snapped his notebook closed and leaned forward a little. "Silence is a choice. It is something that happens to you. And you, my friend, something has come upon you.
Sebastian didn't say anything. He looked at the road. "I'm fine. "Just thinking," Sebastian muttered.
Shane spoke up from the back, his voice carrying the laziness he used when he got tired of serious talks. "Leave him be, Timothy. The biggest shock of his life had just occurred. Even I would keep quiet if it happened to me."
"Actually, I'm thinking about food," Shane explained.
"Specifically, whether my mother had prepared anything when we arrived. I've been surviving on gas station sandwiches and regret for four days."
Zachary laughed, emitting a short burst of sound that filled the car. "Shane, regret isn't a food group."
"It happens when you're desperate enough."
Lyla opened one eye. "You ate my chips yesterday without asking."
"I asked the chips, and they said yes.
"These are potato chips. They can't speak."
"They spoke with me."
The banter continued around Sebastian, but he tuned it out. The car moved forward, past fields and fences and the occasional small town where children played in dusty yards.
His feet were not doing the walking this time, but the feeling was the same. He was being pulled forward by something he could not name.
Guilt.
Duty.
Hope.
He did not know anymore. He just knew he could not stop.
The old house on Pine Street came into view just as the sun began to dip below the rooftops. It was a modest two-story building with peeling white paint and a porch swing that creaked in the breeze.
A single light was on in the front window, casting a warm glow onto the overgrown lawn. A familiar truck was parked in the driveway.
Benjamin was waiting on the porch.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his gray hair catching the last light of day. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with a face that had seen too much and said too little.
Lucas had his eyes.
That was the first thing Sebastian always noticed. The same shade of brown.
The same way of looking at you like they were seeing straight through to your bones.
Sebastian's throat tightened.
Zachary parked the car, and one by one, they climbed out. The air was cooler here, carrying the faint smell of jasmine from a bush near the steps.
Benjamin did not move from his spot on the porch. He just watched them, his gaze lingering on Sebastian for a moment longer than the others.
"Did you find him?"
The question hung in the air like a whisper against Sebastian's ears.
The question hung in the air like a whisper against Sebastian's ears.
No one answered.
The porch swing continued its slow, mournful creak. Somewhere down the street, a dog barked once and fell silent.
Benjamin's eyes moved across each of them in turn.
Zachary, whose jaw was tight; Shane, who was studying his shoes; and Lyla, who had wrapped her arms around herself despite the mild evening.
And Sebastian, who could not hold his grandfather's gaze.
Timothy stepped forward. "We didn't find him," he said, his voice steady in a way that felt almost out of place among the quiet.
"The Hollow Table lead went nowhere. Dead end. We even went to the Red Moon pack to ask questions or even clarifications, but there's nothing. We only met this guy," he said, pointing at Zachary.
Benjamin's expression did not change. His arms remained crossed. The crease between his brows deepened by a fraction.
"But—" Timothy held up a hand, as if to ward off disappointment before it could fully settle. "We have another one. And this one seems solid."
The silence that followed was different from the one before. It was sharper. More alert.
Benjamin tilted his head. "Solid how?"
Timothy glanced back at Zachary, who was leaning against the car with his arms folded, his face half-hidden in shadow. The jasmine scent drifted between them as the breeze picked up.
"It came from my brother," Zachary said. He did not move from the car. His voice was low, roughened by something that might have been exhaustion or might have been reluctance. "He called me two nights ago. Said that a new kid came into town, looking for solace. It..."
Zachary took a deep breath, releasing the tension coming from choosing the right words to say in front of a man who was once known as the High Alpha.
"It fits your son's description. Brown eyes, skin a bit tan, short black hair. Sounds like Lucas to us."