Kyree POV
The wind cut through the trees like a knife, carrying with it a faint tang of decay. My boots sank slightly into the soft soil as he approached the clearing. The tent was still standing, but it gave off the hollow echo of emptiness. Every instinct screamed at me to check again, though I already knew. Isla wasn't there.
I circled the perimeter slowly, nostrils flaring, scanning for any trace she might have left behind, but nothing. Not the looping scent trail that would normally lead back toward the outlaw border route.
Not even the faint residue of her presence. It was as though she had vanished entirely.
Cutter emerged from the treeline, eyes narrowed, soil sample bag in hand. "This… this isn't right," he said, voice low. "Her trail, her scent, crosses through the dead land. No water and no instinct. None of the paths an Omega would naturally take. The soil here… It's disturbed in ways I've never seen on any pack route."
