Alaric did not wait for his generals to finish their reports. He did not care about the "glitches" in the cameras or the excuses of the guards. Every second Silas was away, the hole in Alaric's chest grew larger. The bond—the invisible string that connected his soul to Silas—was silent. It was a terrifying, cold silence that Alaric had never felt before.
He walked toward the Royal Command Center, his heavy boots echoing against the marble floors. He looked at the giant digital wall that showed every street and every port in the city.
"Find him," Alaric commanded. His voice was low, but it carried a weight that made everyone in the room stop breathing. "I don't want reports about why he escaped. I want to know where he is sitting right now."
On the big screen, the "Wall" of information began to change. Red dots appeared across the map, representing every place Silas had been seen. Alaric watched as the data moved from the palace to the dirty streets of the port district.
"He's hiding his scent, Your Highness," the lead investigator said, pointing to a flickering light on the map. "He stopped at a low-level hotel near the docks called the Step-In. He was there for exactly three hours before he moved again."
Alaric's jaw tightened. Silas, his mate, the man who had slept in silk only hours ago, was now hiding in a place where people went to disappear.
"Get the car," Alaric said.
He didn't take an army with him. He drove into the dark, foggy streets of the port district himself, with only a few trusted guards following. When he arrived at the Step-In Hotel, the smell of old grease and smoke hit him like a wall. It was a place for criminals and ghosts.
Alaric pushed past the manager and went straight to Room 204. The door was unlocked. The room was small, dark, and smelled of the Neutralizer drug Silas had taken.
Alaric stood in the middle of the room, looking at the mess. The bed was unmade, and the window was cracked open. He felt a sharp pain in his heart. Silas had been here, shivering and alone, fighting the bond that Alaric so desperately wanted to keep.
He walked to the small trash bin in the corner. His hand shook as he reached in and pulled out a crumpled, empty box. It was a high-grade chemical blocker. On the side, a warning label in red letters said: Danger. Too many doses will cause the heart to stop.
Alaric sat on the edge of the hard, uncomfortable bed. The box fell from his fingers.
"You are killing yourself to get away from me," Alaric whispered to the empty room.
He realized then that the more he hunted Silas, the more Silas would take the drug. If Alaric kept pushing, Silas would eventually take a dose that his heart couldn't handle. The "Golden Cage" was not just the palace—it was Alaric's own obsession.
Alaric stood up and looked out the window at the northern mountains. He knew Silas was headed there, back to his father and his brother.
"He thinks he is going home," Alaric said to his guard who stood at the door. "He thinks he will be safe there."
"Shall we send the team to catch him at the border, sir?" the guard asked.
Alaric looked at the empty drug box on the floor. "No. Pull everyone back. If we chase him, he will take more of that poison. I won't be the reason he dies."
Alaric walked out of the hotel, leaving the grime behind. He felt more alone than he had ever felt in his life. He was the Prince, the Alpha, but he was letting his mate walk into a trap. He knew Silas's family was not what Silas thought they were.
"Let him go," Alaric ordered as he got back into his car. "Let him reach the North. Let him see the faces of the people he trusts. When they betray him—and they will—he will realize that the 'Cage' was the only place he was ever truly wanted."
As the car drove away from the docks, Alaric watched the sun start to rise. The hunt was over for now, but the war for Silas's heart had just begun.