Chapter 7

One year later... 

 Sean felt like giving up, surrendering to defeat. 

      It had been a year now, and so far in his search he couldn't find his sister. He used the sibling bond to track her down, but as months passed, it had become weak to non-existent and that worried him a great deal. He wouldn't dare go to 'What If's' scenarios, because deep within his gut, Serena is still alive; but it aggravated him that she couldn't be found as though she dropped off the face of the Earth. 

      'Serena, where the fuck are you?' Sean thought angrily. 

      As he looked around the woods he was in, he knew he was in another territory, miles away from home, but the disintegration pill he took - courtesy of his dad's military friend - masked his distinct scent and could pass himself as a human; even though the pill would only last for a day so he would need to pop another one when the 24 hours was up. The downside of the pill was that he couldn't use his full strength, but he didn't mind. As long as he looked and smelled harmless - no pain, no gain. 

      Sighing, he spoke through his minuscule ear communicator to contact his human associate, Lester, an ex-CIA operative (as per recommendation by his dad's military friend) stationed in New York. They haven't met personally ever since they were introduced a year ago via phone patch and their transactions were done through a secured line, a military issued gadget that was used for covert missions. The human didn't know shit about their kind and it's going to stay that way until the search would be over. All Lester knew was that they were searching for someone, and that was that.

      "Got anything for me, Les?" Sean asked through the earpiece. 

      Meanwhile, in New York, Lester was eying his computer screen with keen eyes. His work station was a mess; it was cluttered with empty Chinese carton take outs and crushed beer cans, but he was used to it. He was single and having the life as a freelancer was not that  glamorous as it seemed to be, but the pay was good and he was damn awesome with what he did. 

       Who was he to complain? 

       As Sean's voice reverberated through his earpiece, he supplied him with a monotonous answer ever since the search started. 

       "Nothing," Lester said. 

       He heard Sean sigh and said, "What about the feeds?" he asked. "Still the same?" 

       Still eyeing the screen, Lester was about to say something similar, but he stopped himself and frowned at a very condensed area, Southwest of Denver. He was only tapping through the military's satellite feeds and with the equipment he had, he could only make with the technology he had to offer, yet he knew it was past mediocre in the least, but still, the Pentagon had better cheese and it sucked monkey balls. 

       "In Southwest Denver though, this particular spot in the woods, is highly cloaked and I need to clear the image out. But it will take some time," he explained as his hands expertly breezed through the keyboards, his silver eyes glinting in suspicion, judging from the reflection of the computer screen. "It's like someone literally hid the area as though covering it with a freaking tarp."

       On the other line, Sean mulled this over. He knew about the Southwest part of Denver. That was human territory - a friendly zone - so it is safe to say it wasn't congregated with hunters, but for Lester not getting any live feeds on that area was weird. He needed to check that area out and it got him curious. 

       It was worth a shot. 

       "While you're at it, I'll change course and head over there," Sean told him. "It will take me three days tops from my location." 

       "You're eight towns away, am I correct?" Lester asked from the other line. 

       Sean rolled his eyes. 'Of course he knows. Damn ex-CIA,'  he thought. "Yeah, that's right," he replied. 

       "Just give me a few hours to infiltrate and I'll let you know when I'm in." 

       "Affirmative," Sean said. "Over and out." 

       And that was the end of their conversation. 

       "At least we are getting somewhere," he muttered as he started to head in the direction of Southwest. Too bad he didn't bring his truck; it could have saved him the hassle, but he'd rather go on foot. He needed to be detailed in his search and god knows he didn't want to miss anything out. 

       With a grunt, Sean sprinted through the woods, pushing the thought of giving up at the back of his mind and focus with his new directive. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Meanwhile, back in Crimson Moon territory, Nathaniel hasn't been feeling very well lately. He felt weak as though his insides were turning into mush, he had been coughing non-stop and his bodily functions were going haywire. It started four days ago, when Sean left again to search for Serena, and he overruled it due to stress, but he remembered that werewolves never get sick, be it stressed or not. 

       "Sir?" Travis asked him, worried about tainting his voice. "Are you alright?" 

       They were in Nathaniel's study, discussing their next course of action as maps and papers cluttered on the Beta's desk. For the past few days, he noticed that Nathaniel has been looking extremely pale and had lost a few pounds. It worried him because werewolves were as healthy as a horse and their anatomy had enzymes to protect them from getting sick, but the way Nathaniel looked is just... unusual. 

       Nathaniel shook his head. "No," he admitted as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I have no idea what's wrong with me. I feel so drained, and... it's -- " and coughed out rather heavily. 

       Travis frowned. 'That's odd,' he thought. "Do you want me to call the pack doctor?" he asked him. "I think you should have yourself checked out." 

       Nathaniel groaned. He hated doctors. He didn't like being fussed over and the thought of it irritated him. 

       "No doctors, please," he pleaded to the young man. "Maybe this will go away by tomorrow." 

       Just like Travis thought, the old man is stubborn. He often wondered where Serena got her stubbornness and he got his answer from her father, Nathaniel. 

      Serena. 

       It had been a year since she left the pack and most off all, from his life. Day in and day out, he thought about her, wondering if she is alright or if she's eating well. It pained him a great deal that he was the reason for her leaving, and not a single day he berated himself for being a coward, that he wasn't man enough to stand up to defend their relationship against his dickhead of a father. 

       Although he was running out of time; he needed to find her and his eighteenth birthday was drawing near - a month away, to be precise - and when that day came, he'd inherit the Alpha seat, and the dreaded part, the traditional mating ritual of the Vinova household would commence. 

       The forced soul entwinement. 

       And here's the kicker: when he graduates high school, he'll marry that hag of a bitch, Carmela. He is still not over his father's trickery from a year ago, but as for the moment, he needed to keep up with pretenses; no one knew about his team-up with Serena's father and brother (all thanks to the state of the art gadgets and human associate), and when the time comes when Serena will be back in his arms and fully claimed, he'd kick his family and what's her face ass to the curb, rotting in hell as they go along. 

       "Sir," Travis implored, "you need to have yourself checked. You're getting worst day by day." 

       Nathaniel shook his head, stood up and that movement caused his eyesight to become blurry and out-of-focus. 

      "Shit," he cursed, clutching his head with his large hand while the other was supporting his weight on the table. His head was reeling, spinning out of control that he didn't realize his body had tilted side wards and then, in a matter of seconds, he fell to the ground with a thud. 

       "Fuck! Mr. Lewarke!" Travis exclaimed, scrambling up to get to Nathaniel's lying figure. He was panicking as he went around the table, knelt down and checked if he was alright. 

       "Mr. Lewarke?" Travis asked, panic lacing his tone. "Can you hear me? Are you alright?" 

       All he got as a response was a groan.

 

       Ah, hell. 

       As Travis examined at Nathaniel, he saw that he was sweating profusely and the creases on his forehead were a sign that he is in pain, but he is no doctor; he couldn't be sure since he had no medical training, so without hesitation, he called the pack doctor through mind link and told him to get his bony ass in here, pronto. 

       As he gazed upon Nathaniel's face, he can only hope that he is going to fine. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Travis was pacing about outside Nathaniel's bedroom like a maniac as he waited for news. It had been over an hour and the pack doctor was still inside, doing god knows what to the good man. 

       'Where the freaking hell is Delayna?' he thought angrily. The witch was MIA, and as he tried to contact her through the mind link, he was barred out and that pissed him off. 

       He knew Nathaniel and Delayna's marriage was on the rocks; they were constantly fighting and Nathaniel admitted he wanted a divorce and was waiting for the right moment to break it to her, but since they were still bound through matrimony, she still had a duty to her family and husband, not traipsing around to god knows where! 

       "Baby, what are you doing outside my parents' room?" a soft female voice he was, unfortunately, attuned for so long asked. 

       Carmela. 

       Travis stopped pacing, whirled around and glared at his stinkin' fiance with so much animosity. 

       "Where the hell is your good-for-nothing mother?" he spat at her. "Where is she?" 

       Carmela just stood there, rooted to the ground, taken aback by her future husband's rash behavior. She had never, ever heard Travis speak to her that way, and it made her unsettled. 

       "I don't know," she responded with a shrug. "Out, I guess." 

       Travis scoffed. "I tried contacting her through the pack link, but she blocked me out, " he said with an edge on his voice. "In case you haven't noticed, your dad's been sick as hell for a while, but hell! You were too busy in your own world to look around you."

       He was beyond livid at this point, and he couldn't care less if he'd dissed his fiancee for good measure as he takes out his anger he felt for Delayna to Carmela. 

       He pointed at the closed door, still looking at her. "He collapsed an hour ago and the pack doctor is doing the best he can in there," he said, glaring at her furiously. "Make yourself useful and look for your mother." And with that, he dropped his hand on his sides, clenching it into a tight fist as he tried his very best not to pin Carmela to the wall and cut off her air supply. 

      She was shaking, not hiding the fear that rolled off of her. She could only nod, and then stormed away from there, and away from an angry looking Travis, who was ready to go ape sh!t on her. 

      The last thing on her mind was, 'Mother, you are in big trouble.' 

      When Carmela was gone, Travis controlled his anger by taking deep breaths. 'Take it easy,' he chastised himself in his mind, lowering his labored breathing. He continued to take deep calming breaths and when he was toned down, the door burst open and out came the pack doctor, Grayson, who looked tired and stressed out. 

      Travis rushed over to the wary looking pack doctor and asked, "How is he?" 

      Grayson didn't know how to word this out to Travis. From what he had gathered, Nathaniel was in critical condition and he didn't have much time left. The Ricin had already deteriorated his vital organs, slowly and painfully, and if he wasn't a werewolf, he would have been dead in a matter of days from the first intake of the substance. 

      Grayson shook his head, smiling sadly. "He doesn't have much time," he said with sympathy in his voice. "Someone must have slipped Ricin into his system, maybe through food. When did he start to feel weak?" 

      "I'm not sure... four days ago?" Travis informed him with a frown on his face. 

      "Well, since he is a werewolf, the substance had slowly deteriorated his organs, particularly his respiratory system. If he was human, he could have died in a day or two, and right now, he has less than a week left to survive." 

      Travis was stunned with the information. He had difficulty taking everything in, and the first thing he thought was Sean and Serena. 

      Oh, god Serena. What would she think if she found out about this? 

      This wasn't supposed to happen! Who would do such a thing? To Nathaniel? He was a good guy and he didn't deserve this fate! Whoever was responsible for this was going to pay severely and not only that, he will personally pulverize the person into smithereens. 

      With another sympathetic look, Grayson gave him a nod and went back inside the bedroom, closing the door shut. 

      Sighing, Travis took out his phone that had a secured line to call Sean. He was on speed dial two, so when he pressed the button, he waited for Sean to answer the phone and after four rings, he answered with his deep baritone voice. 

      "Hello?" 

      Travis sighed as he prepared himself to break the news. "Sean, you need to come back home, now." 

      "Why?" Sean asked on the other line, sounding wary. 

      "It's about your dad," Travis said quietly. "He's dying."