Chapter 47: Call Torin

Genevieve’s POV

My knees pressed hard into the cold stone floor, ignoring the sharp bite of broken glass beneath them. I didn’t dare move. Not yet.

I was kneeling amidst the absolute destruction of Azura’s quarters, cradling her unconscious body against my chest. Her head lolled against my shoulder, her breathing shallow and uneven, a soft, worrying sound in the vast silence of the wrecked room.

Around us, the room was a disaster, shattered glass was scattered everywhere like diamonds on the floor, furniture was overturned, the heavy oak wardrobe was splintered into tiny pieces, and the windows were blown out entirely. The gray afternoon light poured in, bringing with it a chill wind that made the torn curtains flutter like ghosts in the ruins.

The door was locked from the inside, so I had to use magic to shatter the iron deadbolt to get in here.

Thank the goddess no one saw me do it, though I doubted anyone was near this wing of the pack house after the absolute chaos that had erupted here not ten minutes ago.

My heart was still hammering against my ribs from what I’d felt, that massive, terrifying surge of power that had rippled through the stone walls like an earthquake. It was old, raw, and uncontrolled. It had pulled me here like a hook in my chest, demanding I come, demanding I see what had happened.

And now, looking around at the destruction, I understood why.

The glass wasn’t just lying still. Some of the shards were glowing faintly, pulsing with a soft, eerie, white light. And worse, some of them were floating. Suspended in the air like they were caught in invisible hands, trembling slightly as if waiting for a command.

I stared at them, my blood running cold.

Even unconscious, she’s still releasing power, I realized, my internal panic rising to a fever pitch. If I don’t stop this, the entire west wing of the pack house might collapse.

I had to act. Now.

I had seen spells in my lifetime. I had cast them. Mastered them. But this... this was different. This was older than anything I’d ever encountered. And it was coming from a girl who didn’t even know she had it.

If anyone sees this...

I stayed where I was, keeping one arm around Azura’s shoulders to support her weight. With my free hand, I lifted my palm toward the floating glass and whispered the incantation quickly, urgently, commanding the air to settle.

"Quies. Dormi. Cede."

The air shimmered. The floating shards trembled, hesitated, then slowly began to sink. The glow dimmed. The oppressive weight pressing down on the room lifted, and I could finally breathe again.

The glass settled on the floor with soft, tinkling sounds.

Silence.

I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders sagging. That was too close.

Then I heard footsteps.

It was heavy and fast as it came down the hallway.

I turned my head sharply toward the door just as it burst open.

Rhydor.

He stopped in the doorway, his sharp eyes sweeping the room in one quick, practiced glance, shattered glass, overturned furniture, the cold wind pouring through the broken windows. Then his gaze dropped to me. To Azura in my arms.

His face was stone. Hard. Unreadable.

But his eyes... I saw the flicker of something there. Concern, maybe. Or anger. It was impossible to tell with him. He was the Alpha, and he was good at hiding his true feelings, especially now.

I saw immediately that something was wrong.

His breathing was too fast, too rough, and loud in the small room. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had gone white, and his skin looked tight over his jaw. And his eyes... they kept flickering. Amber to red. Red to amber.

He was fighting his wolf.

Silas appeared behind him, his face pale with shock, looking at the wreckage around us.

"Rhydor, are you..." Silas started, taking a step forward.

"Leave." Rhydor’s voice was strained, barely controlled, rough like gravel. "Now."

"But..."

"GO!"

The word came out like a growl, a sound that came from the chest, not the throat, and Silas didn’t wait. He turned and disappeared down the hallway, fleeing the Alpha’s rage.

Rhydor stepped into the room, his movements stiff and jerky, like a puppet on tight strings. His eyes locked on Azura, and I saw the shift happen. His pupils flared red, then flickered back to amber, then red again.

"Rhydor?" I said carefully, trying to sound calm, trying to be the mother he needed right now, not just the Luna.

He didn’t answer. Just kept staring at her, breathing hard.

"Rhydor, control yourself," I commanded, my voice firm.

"I’m... trying..." His voice was rough, like gravel.

Then his eyes went fully red.

Logan.

His wolf had taken over.

He moved forward with that predatory grace all wolves had, crossing the room in quick strides, ignoring the glass crunching under his boots. He dropped to his knees beside us, and I felt my pulse spike.

"Logan, stop," I whispered, but I knew it was useless.

He ignored me completely. His hand reached out toward Azura, and I held my breath, terrified of what he might do in his rage.

His fingers touched her neck, checking for a pulse, I realized.

And then something shifted.

I felt it before I saw it. Azura’s heartbeat, which had been slow and faint under my hand, suddenly steadied. It went from that weak, dying rhythm to something strong. Normal.

Logan exhaled, a long, relieved sound, and his eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, they were amber.

Rhydor was back.

He gasped and jerked his hand away like he’d been burned. He stared at Azura, then at his own hand, confusion written all over his face. He looked lost.

"What..."

He couldn’t finish. Just stood abruptly and stepped back, running his hand through his hair, looking at the destruction around us.

I watched him carefully. "Your wolf needed to know she was alive."

He didn’t look at me. He was staring at the shattered windows. "That’s never happened before."

"You’ve never had a fated mate before," I reminded him quietly.

Silence. The only sound was the wind howling through the room.

He stood there for a moment, stiff and tense, then finally spoke without turning around.

"I’ll take her to my chambers."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why yours?"

"Because my wolf won’t let me leave her anywhere else." His jaw was tight. "And we both know it."

I didn’t argue. He was right. "Fine."

He turned back, moved forward, and knelt again. This time he hesitated before touching her, like he was afraid of what might happen if he touched her again. Then he carefully slid his arms beneath her, one under her shoulders, one under her knees, and lifted.

Nothing dramatic happened. Just warmth where his skin met hers.

He stood, cradling her against his chest, and headed for the door, leaving me alone in the wreckage.

As he passed me, he paused.

"Send someone to clean this room."

"I will," I said. "But not yet."

He frowned, looking down at her. "Why?"

"Wait until we’re gone. And make sure whoever comes knows to keep quiet about what they see here."

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Understood."

He left, carrying Azura like she weighed nothing.

I followed.

His chambers were warm compared to Azura’s destroyed room. The fireplace crackled softly in the corner, and gray afternoon light filtered through the windows.

He crossed to the bed and laid her down gently on the dark furs, then stepped back immediately, as if keeping his distance was necessary.

He stood there, stiff and awkward, staring at her like he didn’t know what to do next, his face hard to read.

"Sit," I said, closing the door behind me.

"I’m fine."

"You’re not. Sit."

He didn’t. Just kept standing there, shoulders tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

I moved to the bed and sat on the edge, looking down at Azura. Her face was so pale, her breathing still too shallow for my liking. I reached out and placed my hand on her wrist, feeling for her pulse.

It was steady now. Strong. Thank the goddess.

Then I saw something.

A faint glow beneath the fabric of her dress. Right at her chest.

The pendant.

It was pulsing softly, like a heartbeat made of light.

My breath caught in my throat. I glanced at Rhydor, he was turned away, staring out the window at the gray afternoon sky, lost in whatever thoughts were tearing him apart.

He didn’t see it.

I moved quickly. Reached for the thick fur blanket folded at the foot of the bed and pulled it up, draping it over Azura completely, ensuring she was warm and comfortable. The glow disappeared beneath the heavy fabric.

The pendant. It’s reacting.

To what? Her power? Or him?

I let out a slow breath and turned to face my son.

"You felt her heartbeat slow," I said quietly, making sure he was listening. "Didn’t you?"

Silence. The only sound was the fire in the hearth.

Then, softly: "Mmm."

"Through the bond."

"I don’t want to talk about the bond," he said, turning from the window to look at me, frustration clear in his eyes.

"You don’t have a choice," I told him, my voice firm. "It’s there whether you want it or not."

He finally turned to look at me, and I saw the conflict in his eyes. The frustration. The confusion. The fear.

"What happened in her room?" he asked, trying to change the subject, trying to understand.

I tilted my head, not letting him off the hook. "What happened in the council meeting?"

His jaw tightened. "That’s not what I’m asking."

"Then ask the right question," I said gently, but firmly.

He stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head and turned back to the window.

I stood, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You held a meeting to find missing children," I said. "Instead, you let them tear her apart."

"I did what..."

"What needed to be done?" I cut him off, not letting him finish the excuse. "No. You did what was easy."

Silence stretched between us again.

"You can’t handle this alone," I continued, my voice softer now. "Not the children. Not the pack. Not her."

He turned slowly, his expression hard, resisting my words. "Then what do you want me to do?"

I stepped closer, meeting his gaze, trying to make him understand the gravity of the situation.

"Get help. Someone you trust."

"From who?"

I held his eyes, letting the weight of the moment settle between us, knowing this was the only way.

"Call Torin."

He stared at me. The shock was there, but it was quickly overtaken by a familiar, stubborn resistance.

"Torin?" he said, his voice flat. "You want me to call him for this?"

"His line has senses that ours don’t," I said, keeping my voice low and firm. "From my pack. They feel ripples in the territory, things that are hidden, wrong things. He can find what our trackers cannot."

He didn’t answer. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. It wasn’t anger. It was that old, stupid pride. Calling in Torin meant admitting he was failing. It meant facing the cousin he’d played warriors with as a boy while asking him to clean up a mess he couldn’t fix as a man.

The silence between us felt thick with the past. It was the quiet of two brothers, now grown, where one was too proud to admit he needed the other.

Finally, he looked away, staring back out the window.

I turned back to Azura, pulling the blanket higher to make sure the pendant stayed hidden, making sure she was safe.

Whatever was coming, we weren’t ready for it. But maybe, just maybe, we could use this to save the children first.

Torin would have to be the key.