Chapter 128: Two Hours Left… and Her Alpha Was Missing”

Soft music filled the chamber as Emma opened her eyes, only to wish she hadn’t. She pulled the duvet higher, letting the sound wrap around her like a lullaby instead of a wake-up call.

She turned slightly, sinking deeper into the bed.

Mrs. Thompson walked to the other side of the bed and pointed at the wall clock.

She tossed the duvet aside and sprang out of bed, her heart racing.

Not again. How had she overslept again?

"Take it easy, Alpha’s mate. The meeting is scheduled at high-moon—you still have time," Mrs. Thompson said.

She halted when she got to the bathchamber door and looked at her. She understood the gesture and nodded.

"Alright," she said and entered the bathchamber.

She wasn’t the type to use showers, but today she had no choice. There was no time to prepare her usual elaborate bath. Thankfully, the chill wasn’t harsh—the moon’s gentle rays had already softened the air.

"Where is my mate?" she asked Mrs. Thompson, her voice tighter than she intended.

"He should be in his bedchamber. He’s always there at this time... why would today be different?"

Mrs. Thompson hesitated for a moment, as if weighing whether to speak.

Emma paused mid-step.

"The Alpha left the packhouse before dawn."

For a heartbeat, nothing moved—then her fingers curled at her sides, nails pressing into her palms as the words sank in.

"He... left?" she repeated, quieter this time, as if saying it aloud might make it make sense.

Without telling her?

"Did he say where he was going?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

Mrs. Thompson hesitated for a few seconds, her lips parting slightly as if she might add more...but she said nothing.

Naomi and Paige had already prepared everything she would wear.

You look good," Brooklyn, who had just walked into the closet said, and she grinned, though a small part of her was already thinking there was no time to linger on compliments.

"I woke up late. Brandon did not even try to wake me up," she sighed a little, frustration mixing with a faint sting of disappointment she didn’t fully want to admit.

"I don’t know," she replied, and the uncertainty settled in her chest heavier than she expected.

"He is not picking up my calls," she said, trying to sound calm, though each failed attempt felt like another unanswered question in her mind.

"Of course, he wants me there," she answered quickly, almost too quickly, as if speaking faster could silence the doubt trying to form in her heart.

"Who’s there?" she asked, her tone steady, though a small part of her mind was already bracing for news that might disrupt her urgency.

"I don’t have time for food now. Please, take it to the cookhouse," she replied quickly, her thoughts already racing ahead to the meeting she couldn’t afford to miss, even as her stomach quietly reminded her she hadn’t eaten.

"Has he eaten?" she asked instead, pausing for a moment, because despite her rush, part of her still cared enough to check.

She glanced at the clock. One hour, forty-six minutes.

The clock ticked loudly in the silence that followed.

"Bernard, the food can wait," she said firmly, though a faint part of her still felt the pull of hunger she was choosing to ignore for now.

"I’ll eat when I come back," she cut in, already convincing herself she could push her needs aside just a little longer.

"Where is Ken?" she asked, her thoughts briefly drifting to her sibling as she wondered if she had time to see him before everything else.

She walked back to the closet and Mrs. Thompson continued styling her hair, though she herself was already mentally ahead of where she was standing.

"Yeah, but I want to go and see my parents. My mother doesn’t want me to come," she smiled, though a small conflict of longing and guilt flickered in her expression.

"She thinks I have taken care of them enough and some wolf needs to take care of me," Brooklyn replied, her smile soft but slightly conflicted.

"What is it?" Brooklyn asked curiously, unable to hide her interest despite trying to stay composed.

"Alright," she said and sat close to her, though curiosity still lingered in her thoughts.

"Worried about what?" she asked, pausing her thoughts on preparations to focus on her moonally.

"Is there something about him you don’t like?" she asked quietly.

"Why are you worried then?" she pressed gently, trying to untangle emotions from logic.

"I will! I’m going to move them closer and keep my eyes on them." Brooklyn looked at her and smiled. She pulled her ear closer and whispered into it.

"Last moonfall."

"It was amazing," she said, and they giggled.

Empty.

It felt intentional.