A pack leader saw a lot of things in his lifetime, went through a lot of stress. Ryan had clawed his way to the top with tooth and fang, and he defended that position with just as much fervor. He was where he was meant to be, and he would stay there until it came his time to be done, when he willingly stepped down, or when a young challenger finally got the best of him.

There had been deaths in the pack, as there was death anywhere. Unborn children were claimed before they could be given life, and others were taken before their time by illness or accident. Elders died as elders often did, growing stiff and cold in their sleep. These deaths left sudden gaps in the pack awareness, souls lost forever where before there had been someone familiar and loved.

There had been fights and confrontations.

Some had left the pack, and others had joined.

He always had to adapt, to adjust to the situation no matter his personal feelings. He was the friend, the shoulder to cry on, the light at the end of the tunnel. He was the one who pushed on the reluctant, but also the one who had to offer a friendly suggestion that it might be time to slow down.

Nothing was easy and everything was hard. He thought he had seen it all.

But now he knew he was wrong. Nothing compared with driving another six hours back the way he had come, taking his despondent mate back across the state to talk to the police about his missing kid.

His mate, according to the well.

And he had no idea how that could be possible.

They had come together, hadn’t they? Years ago. They’d given it a try, and nothing came of it. How could there possibly still be something between them after all this time when there hadn’t even been anything to start with? That was a seed that never grew, a flower that never blossomed. It was a night to remember, not the beginning of a relationship.

As he drove, not speeding, but pushing against the limit as hard as he could without getting pulled over, he examined what he had seen from all possible angles. Conversation was nonexistent. It wouldn’t have been right to offer platitudes for a situation he couldn’t understand, though he was picking up on some of the emotions pulsing through Dylan, and he knew they were none too pleasant. It would also have been wrong to intrude on Dylan’s own thoughts, to interrupt his private grief.

The omega wolf nursed his phone, constantly turning it on to check his messages and email even though there had never been a notification. He would turn it off again just as quickly, trying to conserve battery. The one time he’d made a call, it was from the phone in the hotel room to reassure the police that he was coming as soon as possible.

Left to his own devices, Ryan let himself think. There was the added benefit of distracting himself from his own unhelpful emotions by doing so, though he often had to remind himself to pay attention to the road during the process.

Could I just have imagined it?

The way the water had moved was unlike anything he had ever known. Those swirls of colorless white, slowly saturating with color that came from nowhere. Solidifying into that face he knew so well, the one he had kissed so long ago. And just to drive the point home, the image had faded and been replaced with one depicting Dylan’s smoky gray wolf form.

Ryan’s imagination just wasn’t good enough to have come up with all that on its own.

He had wanted to see the well with his own two eyes, to know its power so that he might believe it for himself. Once he did that, he had expected to be able to figure out what to do next.

That hadn’t happened. He believed it, but now he had no damn idea what to do about it, although he did understand now what all the warnings had been about. This was life-changing. It was monumental. It was staggering. The whole entire world could be affected by this. The shapeshifting world, that was.

Just, he was certain beyond a doubt that this should never be spoken of outside of very special situations. There was too much power there to play with it. To tamper with something impossible could only be asking for misery.

Holding back a sigh, he realized that he would have to do some damage control on this now, too. It seemed like all he did lately was make up for his mistakes, but that was an important part of being a leader. Only through setting an example could he expect others to do the same.

They didn’t stop once the entire drive. Seeing Portsmouth appear in the distance through a gap in the trees should have been a relief, but instead it only served to remind him of the various aches he’d acquired over the long drive. Dylan sat up straight in his chair, the first sign of movement in hours, and stared out the windshield. His hands were white-knuckled in his lap.

“Almost home,” Ryan said, trying to sound cheerful and failing miserably.

Dylan didn’t answer.

Merging again with city traffic after so much time flying freely down the highway was a trial all on its own, almost unbearable. The truck inched along, low light blinking, obstacle-detecting sensors pinging every few seconds. Irritation threatened to become anger, and it was all Ryan could do to keep from slamming his fist against the various equipment on his dash until it all stopped making noise. It was enough to make a man go crazy when piled on top of everything else, the straw that broke the camel’s back.

According to the indicator, there were only a few miles’ worth of gas left in the tank by the time they reached the Portsmouth Police Department. They were on fumes by this point, and Ryan had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that the truck might not even start up again after he turned off the ignition. The world had worse inconveniences to offer. All the same, it felt unfair. So many things had already gone wrong today, and he hadn’t the time to address any of it. He thought he deserved some sort of break. Clearly, the universe disagreed.

Dylan leaped out of the truck as Ryan found a parking spot, hitting the ground running.

Ryan looked at his ass.

He knew it was the wrong thing to do. It was completely inappropriate at a time like this, and it made his cheeks heat up with shame, like he’d been caught jerking it at a funeral, but he couldn’t help it. Six hours of dealing with his thoughts and the only conclusion he could reach was that physical attraction was the answer. If Dylan turned him on, then that meant there was potential for whatever might happen. If anything did happen.

I’m so fucking selfish, only thinking about me instead of him. His kid is gone. How many children disappear and actually get found again?

Dylan’s life could be ruined, and here Ryan was, looking at his ass, trying to decide if he felt gay or not when doing so.

Unfortunately, Dylan moved too fast for him to get a good look. The omega burst through the doors of the police station, out of sight in an instant, leaving Ryan alone with his shame. He had done a horrible thing just now, and for what? Absolutely nothing at all.

“Get it together,” he told himself. He turned off the truck and started to get out, pausing when he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. He didn’t look like much of anything, just an exhausted man with squinted, tired eyes. Certainly no one would look at him and think he was important.

And he wasn’t, not right now. Dylan was.

Ryan shoved the keys into his pocket and started for the station door. He’d been in here more than a few times, both as a lawyer and a concerned citizen. The layout was familiar to him and probably would have been familiar to anyone else who happened to walk in, no matter where they might be from. Like hotel rooms and hospitals, police stations didn’t really break out of the mold when it came to architecture.

Just inside the front doors was the front desk, manned by a heavyset gentleman juggling two phone lines and apparently struggling with the task. To the right were two rows of uncomfortable plastic chairs, back-to-back, where an older couple sat, looking as if they were both exasperated and saddened. A few doors led deeper into the station, some of which were open but most of which were firmly shut.

Aside from a few potted plants, which were fake, and a tiny square television up in the corner near the plastic chairs, there was very little to catch the eye. Another staple of police stations, Ryan figured. There was nothing fun about them, and there shouldn’t be. Still, a few magazines would have been nice. The older couple looked bored and nervous, and surely the muted TV wasn’t helping matters any.

Ryan walked up to the desk. The man holding two phones glanced at him, expression guarded. Both of his hands were busy but he somehow managed to convey with his eyes that he would get to Ryan in a second.

Ryan watched the TV, idly listening to the man stumble over his words while switching back and forth between calls. Occasionally, a pen scratched over a piece of paper, followed by another burst of listening and talking.

Some form of international sport must have just gotten finished because the channel was tuned to a sports network. Announcers were speaking, clearly excited over what had just happened. A stadium could be seen in the background, though it was impossible to tell what game had been played or where exactly it had taken place.

I’m bored already. That poor couple. I wonder who they’re waiting on?

“Can I help you, sir?”

The cop had succeeded in his task of handling the phones and was now watching him. He seemed out of breath, which probably explained why he was behind a desk and not out on the field. Not that Ryan was casting judgment upon the man, since the job had its own importance.

“Yes,” Ryan said. He reached for the top of the desk and held onto it, gripping tightly as if it was the only thing holding him up. Every instinct begged for him to break away from the desk, following Dylan’s scent through the station. The omega’s scent was thick and bitter with fear, touching the wolf inside Ryan. He was the alpha, should have been protecting the omega, should have prevented all this from happening somehow. He needed to be with his packmate.

But if he didn’t stand here and have this presumably lengthy discussion, if he tried to follow Dylan immediately, he would most likely be apprehended and forced out, thereby defeating the whole purpose. It was taking every ounce of his humanity to do so, but he somehow managed.

“Well?” the cop prompted.

Ryan realized he had let the pause after his initial answer drag out for an awkwardly long amount of time. Mentally growling at himself, he pulled in a deep breath and then let it out. By the time he exhaled, he was no longer just a worried man but also Ryan the Talented Lawyer.

“A man just came running in here. His name is Dylan. Dylan Johnson. I’m sure he showed you his ID and that you sent him off down one of these hallways with instructions on where to go. I’m his lawyer. Tell me where he went.”

While his statement wasn’t necessarily true, it was just close enough that he felt safe with using it.

The cop looked a little guarded. He probably had a lot of people barging in here, demanding to see others, but no one had done it in such a firm manner. “I’m going to need to see your ID too, sir.”

He fished out his wallet and retrieved his ID, handing it over. The cop examined it, turning the slim card over and over in his fingers before handing it back. “You don’t look like a lawyer.”

“Next time I’m here, I’ll put on my best suit for you,” Ryan promised. He was aware that it sounded like flirting but from the way the cop looked at him, this was a point in his favor. “Just, this was a very urgent thing, and I had to come back here from what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation. I drove there. Nice little town. Abingdon. You know it?”

“Nope.”

“Real small, quiet place. Got an orchard. Six hours there. Six hours back.”

The cop whistled, looking sympathetic now. “Hell of a lot of driving. Feel bad for you. But work’s work, right?”

I wish.

“Yeah. I’ll be heading back now, then?”

He could see the hesitation in the cop’s eyes. The situation was probably not the most unusual that had ever taken place in the station, but it wasn’t exactly common. The cop could catch a lot of flak from his higher-ups if they caught wind of the fact that he’d made a decision he wasn’t sure of. Then again, he’d catch flak if he didn’t let a lawyer into the interview room.

As the cop was weighing which choice would cause him less trouble, the phone on his desk started ringing. He groaned and reached for it. “Okay, Mr. Lawyer. Take those double doors. Turn right. Fourth door down the hallway. Knock before you enter. And maybe at least think about carrying your briefcase next time.”

Ryan nodded and thanked the man. The older couple watched him with obvious jealousy.

“Why didn’t we pretend to be lawyers, too?” the man whispered.

He ignored the comment. He might have said the same thing had he been in their position.

Following the desk jockey’s directions, Ryan came to the fourth door and knocked. The murmur of voices within suddenly ceased.

“Excuse me,” a woman said from within, speaking not to him but to her companion.

A woman. Good. Bound to be gentler with Dilly than a man would be.

This wasn’t exactly a situation where gentleness would do them any good, since they needed cold, hard facts, but Dylan was his friend and Ryan wanted this to be as easy for him as possible. Hopefully, the hard facts would make it all easy.

He didn’t wait for the cop within to open the door for him, pushing it open himself. He found himself looking in at a small, utilitarian office with a desk against the wall and a few chairs scattered around. The desk was covered in a mass of papers and files, not all of which were related to this case because Ryan doubted there had been enough time to generate a 50-page report like the one he was looking at. This cop was a messy worker, and he didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, a chaotic mind was capable of strokes of brilliance. On the other, details could easily be missed.

Sitting in one of the chairs was Dylan, head in his hands. A soft moan of despair came from his throat.

“Who are you?” the cop asked. Her voice was puzzled but still gentle, as if she didn’t yet consider him a threat.

The right thing to do would be to tell her the same story he’d told the desk jockey and then get down to business but the sight of Dylan like that was more than his heart could bear. Ryan slid past the cop, ignoring her wary exclamation, and dropped down into the seat beside Dylan. Dylan didn’t acknowledge his presence, too lost in his own mind to even notice that something was happening.

Ryan went in to embrace him, as he had on so many other occasions throughout their lives together. He just wasn’t the sort of man who could see someone in distress without doing something, though his professional life limited exactly what he could do. With Dylan, it had always been different. Even at an age when other boys seemed to have decided that physical contact beyond a high five was out of the question, they had kept hugging, kept doing all the other things they had done all along. This had caused some teasing during high school but not much, as no one was willing to mess with a football player or his friend.

He had hugged Dylan after the car crash ten years ago, visiting his friend in the hospital where he had to have surgery for his shattered leg. Modern medicine, time, and shapeshifting healing ability had left him without a limp, but when he had seen Dylan in that bed, all he could do was be afraid. They embraced, because that was what they had always done.

He hugged his best friend on his wedding day, and held him after the birth of his child, and again on the day of the divorce. Similarly, after Ryan had become pack leader, they hugged and then went to celebrate.

But now, at the last second, he drew back because this was different than all those other occasions. He was here pretending to be a professional. He had to act that way. Comfort could come later.

Somehow, he managed to turn the hug into a comforting grip on Dylan’s shoulders. “Hang in there,” he whispered.

If the cop noticed the sudden change in intention, she gave no notice of it. She couldn’t have been more than 25 years old, practically a baby compared to them, but she was anything but fresh-faced. She had wrinkles forming around her eyes and mouth, and he thought he could see a gray hair or two amidst her blonde ponytail.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to identify yourself.”

Ryan looked at her. “I apologize for my intrusion. My name is Ryan Castle. I am Mr. Johnson’s lawyer. I hope you haven’t started without me?”

She narrowed her eyes, ice forming over liquid hazel pools. “He hasn’t said anything about a lawyer. Does he have need of one?”

“As you can see, he isn’t exactly in a coherent frame of mind. I am here only as a precaution.”

Because if you accuse him of doing this, I’m hiring him a damn good defense attorney.

She continued to gaze at him, but she must not have seen anything to be wary of because she just sighed and nodded. “Okay, then. No, we hadn’t gotten started. I just fetched him a cup of coffee. Would you like one as well?”

A cup of coffee would have been real damn nice, but the longer this was delayed, the harder it would be.

“No, thank you.”

“All right. What did you say your name was?”

He gave it.

“Well, Mr. Castle, I am Officer Carey.” Carey moved over to her desk and sat down, shuffling papers around for a moment. “Mr. Johnson...”

“Just Dylan,” Dylan croaked out.

“Dylan. Your son was reported missing at 1:37 p.m. today. Where were you at this time?”

“On vacation,” Dylan murmured. “I was taking a few days off.”

“Please give me the name of the location where you were.”

Dylan gave it without hesitation. Carey noted it down then repeated it back to make sure she’d gotten it right. Upon confirming that she had, she continued. “We will confirm your alibi. We have already interviewed your ex-wife. She told us that she took your son, Hunter, to school this morning as usual and then went to work. Hunter’s presence was confirmed during attendance before and after snack time. We have many witnesses stating that they saw Hunter in the cafeteria, sitting with his classmates as per usual. However, he was not in attendance when classes resumed. Somewhere in that 45-minute period, the amount of time allotted for lunch and recess, your son went missing.”

Dylan had been listening attentively to the story, leaning forward with bated breath, eyes very wide. At this point he groaned and put his head in his hands again. “Oh, my god. How the fuck does this happen? How does a kid just disappear? In this day and age?”

Carey blinked sympathetically. She leaned across the desk and patted the back of Dylan’s hand, then pushed a box of tissues towards him. “It happens, unfortunately. No system is perfect and it only takes a few seconds for the course of a life to change.”

“The school has security cameras!”

“And we are checking the tapes. Unfortunately, the system appears to be a very old one, but we are doing everything we can. We have interviewed all the teachers and many of the students already, with parental supervision, of course. The investigation is ongoing. The station is only this quiet right now because most of the force is on the hunt. Your son will be found.”

Dylan looked on the verge of having a breakdown, so Ryan chose that moment to interject. “Most people reported missing are found within a few hours. Isn’t that right, officer?”

Carey nodded. “That’s right,”

Neither of them pointed out that the sun would be setting soon, or that there had been quite a few hours since the disappearance.

“In fact, those not found in a couple hours are almost always found within 48 hours.”

While that might not have seemed like such a long time, anything could happen within two days. Entire worlds could be turned upside down.

This fact apparently didn’t escape Dylan. He gripped the desk with both hands, clutching at it with wolf strength. His nails carved scars against the wood. “Two days?” he said, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He was shaking, vibrating the chair. “If some sick bastard has my son, there’s a whole hell of a lot that could happen in two days!”

“Most abductions are performed by family members,” Carey said. “Or by someone the child knows. Can you think of anyone who might be angry with you or your ex-wife? Someone who might want to get back at you?”

Dylan shook his head and kept shaking it, seeming incapable of stopping. Ryan gripped his elbow, trying to hold his friend together somehow.

“It’s also very likely that Hunter wandered off on his own,” Carey informed them. “We haven’t ruled out anything yet, but we by no means have any indication that this was a kidnapping. Children do all sorts of weird things, you know. He could be living the dream in the nearest Walmart, playing with all the toys.”

“Do you have kids?” Ryan asked.

“I do,” Carey gestured to a few photo frames on the desk, which he hadn’t even noticed because of all the clutter. One pictured showed an infant, while the other depicted a toddler. Both had hazel eyes and blonde hair. Either Carey’s genes were very strong or she had a husband with similar features. “Timmy just turned one, and Philip will be four in a few months.”

“They’re both beautiful,” Dylan said. He spoke without much in the way of feeling, clearly finding it impossible to summon emotions at the moment.

“Thank you. I would be devastated if one of them went missing. I know how you feel.”

But she didn’t.

Ryan hated that sentiment and always had, because it just wasn’t true most of the time. Judging from the sharp jabs of resentment he could feel emanating from Dylan, the omega shared his views.

There was a difference between sympathy and empathy, though people often seemed to assume they were only synonyms. Empathy was the ability to truly form a connection with another person based on similar experiences. Sympathy was only an attempt to understand. Unless Carey really had one of her kids taken away, she couldn’t truly understand the torture it must have been.

Ryan wouldn’t have wished this situation on anyone, but the difference was important. He knew he couldn’t understand, and he was able to physically experience Dylan’s feelings.

Carey continued speaking. “Are you sure you can’t think of anyone to name? Someone slightly suspicious that you’ve seen hanging around? A family member who sounded off recently? What about your parents?”

“Parents?”

She shrugged and gave a gentle smile, as if she thought this might be able to lessen some of the pain she was inflicting with every word. “It happens. Some grandparents feel overwhelmed about having an empty nest and will do anything to fill it with another child.”

“Well, that won’t be the case here,” Dylan said. His eyes were very dark, making it seem as if he had dived beneath the sea and was entering deeper waters. Ryan didn’t know if he would ever be able to resurface, if he would ever see the light again. “You can ask Arden about her parents, but they’re living out their glory days in Florida.”

“And yours?”

“Deceased.”

Carey gave Dylan’s hand another pat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

If she knew the entire story, she might not have had such a gentle sentiment. Dylan’s parents had been over the moon for their son since his birth, but somewhere along the line he’d lost their favor. His decision to become an auto mechanic rather than take up another, more exotic line of work—trains or planes or robots—had left a bad taste in their mouths. Their opinions were restored when Dylan had a child, but had been broken again by the divorce, and nothing had been the same since. They both passed away in their sleep at a relatively young age. Ryan was at the funeral. He knew how much it had hurt Dylan to have to sit there while the rest of the pack praised his parents for all the things that had been robbed from him because of his life choices.

After a few more questions, it seemed there was nothing left to discuss. Carey put down the pen she’d been using to make notes. “I think we’re done here. Right now, Dylan, the best thing for you to do would be to go see your ex-wife. I don’t know what things are like between the two of you, but this is a time to be joining together. Not drifting further apart.”

Ryan thought it was pretty much guaranteed that Arden wouldn’t see things in the same light, but he didn’t say that aloud. He was, after all, pretending not to know Dylan on a personal level. To make a comment about his ex-wife would be blowing his own cover.

Dylan didn’t say anything either. He looked as if he couldn’t say anything.

Carey stood up. “I’ll arrange an escort for you.”

Ryan held out his hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

The cop raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“I drove him here. I’ll take him there.”

“You drove your client here?” Her eyebrows slanted down now as her eyes narrowed. He noticed these movements with a little bit of amusement, having never seen anyone whose eyebrows were so expressive.

“Like I said, he’s not exactly in his best frame of mind right now. You wouldn’t be, either.” He tossed her own sentiment right back at her.

“True enough. You know, you really don’t seem like any lawyer I’ve ever met before.”

Ryan tried to grin, but it fell flat, coming unhinged only moments after he attempted it. “That’s because I’m not.”