Mellifuous ✔

Chapter 25: Shattered Chains

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The search for Eli stretched on for days, each one more agonizing than the last. The forests seemed endless, their dark canopies swallowing any glimmer of hope as the packs pushed through, determined but weighed down by exhaustion. Every tree, every shadow, felt like it was mocking their efforts, hiding what they so desperately sought. The alliance's warriors moved silently yet purposefully, their breaths shallow and their ears sharp. The rogues were clever, their trails deliberately convoluted. False scents and hastily covered tracks led them in circles, while traps set along the paths slowed their progress. It was a cruel game of cat and mouse, and with each passing hour, the fear of what might be happening to Eli gnawed deeper into their hearts.

For Will and Santiago, the agony was unbearable. Eli wasn't just a missing omega pup—he was their son, their entire world alongside his brothers. Every second spent searching was a second he was in danger. Will's usually sharp, quick movements were replaced with a simmering, deadly precision. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his fists clenched tight enough to make his knuckles pale. Santiago's fury was quieter, but no less dangerous. His normally warm eyes were cold, calculating, burning with the kind of rage that promised retribution. Neither spoke much, their grief and anger swallowing words. Instead, their movements were mechanical, driven by sheer willpower.

Scouts brought back only scraps—a faint scent clinging to a broken chain, footprints that disappeared into the underbrush, an abandoned campsite littered with discarded bones. Nothing solid, nothing to tell them Eli was alive. Will growled low in his throat every time they hit another dead end, his frustration barely contained. Santiago stayed quieter, but his hands trembled slightly when no one was looking, his desperation leaking through the cracks of his otherwise stoic demeanor.

Arguments broke out among the alliance leaders. Splitting forces meant covering more ground, but it also meant leaving some vulnerable to ambush. The rogues were ruthless, their tactics brutal. They weren't just fighting to survive—they fought like cornered animals, willing to take as many down with them as they could. Conall, despite his own heartbreak, was forced to step in more than once to quell the bickering. 

But it was Will who silenced them all during one heated debate. He slammed his fist into the nearest tree, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. "Argue all you want, but my son is out there, scared and alone. Every second we waste here is a second he doesn't have."

Finally, on the fifth day, the breakthrough came. A scout from the Kotus Pack stumbled into the main encampment, his clothes torn and his breathing labored, but his words brought the first spark of hope they'd had in days. The rogues had been tracked to an abandoned mine, hidden deep in the mountains. The entrance was almost impossible to see, overgrown and shadowed, but the scout swore he'd caught the unmistakable scent of omega fear—Eli's fear.

Will and Santiago didn't wait for a full plan to be formed. They were already moving, their desperation propelling them forward. Conall barked orders to the others, rallying the troops for the assault. The trek to the mine was grueling, the terrain rocky and uneven. Loose gravel threatened to send warriors tumbling down the slopes, but none faltered. The air grew thinner as they climbed, their breaths visible in the chilly night air. Moonlight spilled across the jagged peaks, casting long, ominous shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly.

The entrance to the mine loomed before them, a gaping maw of darkness. The rogues' scent was strong now, thick and rancid, but underneath it was something else. Conall stopped abruptly, his head snapping to the side. His nostrils flared, and for a moment, his mask of fury slipped, replaced by raw anguish. "He's here," he rasped, his voice breaking. 

The attack began with deadly precision. Warriors poured into the mine like a tidal wave, their silence shattered by the sudden eruption of snarls and screams. The rogues were caught off guard, their defenses weak and scattered. Conall, Will and Santiago were at the forefront, their movements a blur of fury. Will's claws slashed through flesh and bone, his eyes wild with rage. Santiago was no less lethal, his strikes calculated and efficient. They fought like men possessed, their every action fueled by the thought of their son suffering at the hands of these monsters.