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.·:*¨༺𝐓𝐰𝗼༻¨*:·.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀʀᴏɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴs
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@LILLYOFTHEVAIIEY
╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

                        𝓣he next day, Luna Mae wasn't at school.

Embry noticed right away. Her seat in history class was empty—desk bare, chair untouched. He tried to play it off, to tell himself it made sense. She was probably still pissed about the box, about the breakup. Maybe she just needed space.

Still, by lunchtime, he found himself glancing toward the cafeteria doors every few minutes. Watching. Hoping. Dreading.

Nothing.

"She's just skipping," Paul said when Embry mentioned it. "Don't be dramatic."

But it felt wrong. Off. The silence around her absence felt too heavy.

After the final bell, Embry didn't go straight home. He cut through the woods to Sam's house instead, the unofficial meeting place for the pack. Jared and Paul were already there, throwing snacks at each other on the worn couch. Sam stood by the window, arms crossed, gaze distant.

Embry tried to relax into the comfort of it—his brothers, the shared energy, the smell of home and pine and pack.

But something tugged at him. An unease in his chest he couldn't explain.

Eventually, he headed home, trudging across the gravel and up the porch steps. His mom opened the door before he even knocked.

"Hey, sweetheart," she said, smiling. "I made enchiladas."

He managed a tired smile. "Smells great."

They sat at the small kitchen table, eating in mostly comfortable silence. His mom told a funny story about a customer at the souvenir shop, Embry was just beginning to laugh. When-

—BANG. BANG. BANG.
The pounding on the front door cut through the house like a thunderclap.

Embry shot up from his chair. His mom dropped her fork, eyes wide.

She reached the door and pulled it open—and his stomach sank.

Two police cruisers idled in front of the house, red and blue lights flashing dimly. On the porch stood two Quileute officers, stone-faced. Between them was Charlie Swan.

Charlie looked exhausted. His hat was in his hands. "Evening, Mrs. Call," he said gently. Then looked at Embry. "Mind if we come in?"

Charlie hesitated—just for a second—then one of the Quileute officers stepped forward. His voice was calm but firm.

"We'd like to ask your son a few questions."

Tiffany blinked, looking from the officers to Embry, then back. "O-of course," she said, stepping aside. "Come in."

The living room was small and tidy, the couch sunken in the middle from years of use. A crocheted blanket Tiffany's aunt had made hung over the back.

Embry sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, arms folded across his chest. Tiffany hovered behind him, eyes narrowed with maternal protectiveness but silent.

Charlie took the recliner. The Quileute officers remained standing.

"It's under our understanding," the taller officer said, flipping open a small notebook, "that you were close with Luna Mae. Is that true?"

Embry blinked. "...Were?" His voice came out sharper than intended. "Officer.. what does were mean?"

Charlie cleared his throat. His voice was low, careful, but not soft. "Her father reported her missing early this morning. Her window was open. And... there was blood in the room."

The air in the living room thickened.

"What?" Embry whispered.

Charlie nodded, face drawn. "We're running tests to match the DNA. We don't know anything for certain yet."

Embry gripped the edge of the couch, knuckles white. "How much blood?"

Charlie's eyes met his. "That information is classified, son."

Embry's stomach twisted. His vision blurred for a second, like the world had tilted under him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and then looked up, pale and rattled.

The officer shifted, then tried again. "You were—" he corrected himself after a sharp look from Charlie Swan, "you are close with Luna Mae. Correct?"

Embry nodded slowly, voice dry. "We... we dated."

"And when did you break up?"

"Two days ago."

"Would you say it was a bad breakup?"

Embry rubbed a hand over his mouth. "No. I mean—she was mad. Hurt. But it wasn't..." He trailed off, guilt curling tight in his chest. "She gave me a box of my stuff and walked away. That's it."

The officer flipped to a fresh page in his notebook. "Where were you last night, Mr. Call?"

Before Embry could answer, Tiffany stepped forward, her voice like steel. "That's quite enough, Officer. My son didn't do this." Her eyes flashed. "He's a good boy. And he loved that girl."

The room went silent. Charlie cleared his throat again, gentler this time.

"This is just a formality, ma'am. You know how it is—first 48 hours matter most. We're not accusing him of anything."

Tiffany's arms were crossed tightly, but she gave a stiff nod.

Embry swallowed hard, then finally spoke, his voice tight. "I was with some friends. At Sam Uley's place."

The officer jotted something down. "What time did you get there?"

"Just after school. I stayed pretty late. Around 2am maybe?"

"Who was present?" the other officer asked.

"Sam Uley. Jared Cameron. Paul Lahote," Embry said. "We were just... hanging out."

"Doing what?"

Embry's mind blanked, 'turning into giant wolves' yeah that didn't work.

"Drinking," he admitted, throat tight.

'Yeah normal teenagers do that' He thought.

The room went still.

"And you're how old?" the officer asked, eyes narrowing.

'Shit I didn't think this through'

Embry didn't answer. He felt his mom's gaze hit him like a slap, but he kept his eyes forward, jaw clenched.

"I know," he muttered. "Well—you see, Paul and Jared and I were at a bonfire. Some older guys were there. We got a little stupid."

The officer made a note in his little notebook, pen scratching. "Then what?"

"Then Sam found us," Embry said, quickly. "He drove us to his place to sober up before we went home. He didn't want us getting in trouble... or driving drunk."

"So Uley didn't provide you with the alcohol?" the cop asked, tone even but pointed.

Embry shook his head immediately. "No. He'd never do that. Sam doesn't mess around with stuff like that."

His mom was still watching him. Disappointed. Embry could feel her anger behind her silence, like a thundercloud over his shoulder.

"You're not in trouble for drinking," the officer said, tapping the page with the back of his pen. "Right now, we're just trying to get a full picture of what happened the night Luna disappeared. So if you think of anything else... anything strange, anyone lurking around—anything you might've seen, you need to come to us directly. No games."

Embry nodded. "I get it."

"You sure you weren't near her house that night?"

"I swear," Embry said, and for once it wasn't a lie. "I didn't see her. I didn't even know she was missing until now.

Charlie gave a small nod. "We'll need to verify all this with Sam, if you don't mind."

Embry shook his head. "I don't mind."

Tiffany moved closer to her son, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't flinch, but he didn't look at her either.

The taller officer closed his notebook. "That's all for now. If you remember anything—anything at all—you call us. Understood?"

Embry nodded mutely.

Charlie's gaze lingered on the boy for a moment longer. His eyes weren't suspicious—just tired. Like a man who'd seen one too many missing posters taped to telephone poles.

"We'll be in touch."

The door clicked shut behind them. The cruiser lights faded down the street.

Tiffany let out a slow breath, like she'd been holding it since they walked in.

Embry sat perfectly still, his hands curled into fists.

Something was wrong.

More than wrong—off. Twisted. Unnatural.

And in his gut, in the place where the wolf pulsed closest to the surface, Embry knew:

Luna wasn't just missing.

She was in danger.

He wanted to run.

Run straight to Sam's, to the pack, to the only place where the sick twist in his stomach might make sense—where the impossible could be explained. But looking at his mom, still standing in the living room with her arms folded tight across her chest, jaw clenched with worry, Embry knew he couldn't.

Not yet.

He forced himself to sit back down at the kitchen table. Picked at his plate. Pushed the enchiladas around like they might give him answers. His mom sat across from him, watching, barely eating either.

After a long stretch of silence, she spoke. Her voice was low and flat.

"So. Drinking."

Embry didn't look up. "Yeah."

"That true?"

He nodded, eyes still locked on his plate. "Yeah."

She exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled. "You want to tell me why?"

He shrugged, which only made her more frustrated. She set her fork down with a sharper clink than intended.

"You're seventeen, Embry. That officer could've hauled you in if he wanted to."

"I know," he said quickly. Too quickly.

She studied him. "Is this about Luna?"

His stomach twisted. He didn't answer.

"Embry," she finally said, voice tight, "what's going on with you and Luna? You've been dating her for years."

He shook his head. "Nothing. We broke up. It was stupid."

"That doesn't look like nothing," she muttered. "The police at our door didn't feel like nothing."

Embry shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "They're asking everyone. I'm not the only person she knew."

Tiffany opened her mouth to say something else when the phone rang, sharp and shrill against the tension hanging in the air. She got up quickly, snatched it from the receiver.

"Hello? ... Oh—yes, thank you for calling."

Embry only half-listened, staring blankly at the scratched surface of the table.

Tiffany hung up a moment later and turned to him. "That was Billy. They're organizing a search party. Tonight. Seven o'clock at the rez park."

Embry's head snapped up. "I'm going."

Tiffany hesitated, eyes narrowed. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"I have to," he said. "I need to."

There was something in his voice that made her stop questioning. She just nodded, slow and wary.

"Be back before midnight," she said. "I mean it."

Embry stood up, already pulling on a jacket.

"I will," he said—but he wasn't sure she believed it.

Embry stepped outside into the cool evening air, the door clicking shut behind him. The sky was streaked in gold and violet, but none of it registered. His mind buzzed with static—Luna, blood, missing.

He pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, heading for the path that cut through the trees toward the rez park.

Just as he hit the edge of the driveway, his old flip phone vibrated in his pocket.

He flipped it open. SAM ULEY.

He answered immediately. "Hey—"

"Embry," Sam's voice snapped, low and tight with authority, "why the hell were there cops at my door?"

Embry winced. "They came to mine first."

"For what?"

"They think I might know something about Luna," he said, voice cracking on her name. "She's missing, Sam."

There was silence on the other end. A long one.

Then, "What do you mean missing?"

Embry swallowed hard. "Her dad reported it. Her window was open and there was... there was blood."

Another pause. Then Sam cursed under his breath. "Shit. You need to get here. Now."

"I'm headed to the rez park," Embry said.

Embry stepped outside into the cool evening air, the door clicking shut behind him. The sky was streaked in gold and violet, but none of it registered. His mind buzzed with static—Luna, blood, missing.

He pulled his hoodie tighter around himself, heading for the path that cut through the trees toward the rez park.

────୨ৎ────

                  The Rez Park was crawling with life—but not the kind that brought comfort.

The usual quiet of the coastal woods was shattered by the low hum of generators, the murmur of clustered voices, and the occasional sharp squawk of a walkie-talkie. Floodlights cast cold beams over the treetops, illuminating the pavilion and the parking lot in harsh white. The fire pit near the shore had been lit but no one stood around it, not even the elders. It felt wrong to be warm.

Cars were pulled up onto the grass. Dozens of volunteers milled around, pulling on gloves, adjusting backpacks, clutching printed grid maps. Some had come from Forks—familiar faces from school, neighbors, old family friends. Others were La Push locals, faces drawn tight with worry. Parents brought their teenage kids, not because they wanted to but because they needed every set of eyes they could spare.

The wind off the ocean bit sharp, carrying the scent of wet cedar and salt. It felt like even the trees were holding their breath.

Embry stood near the edge of the crowd, watching people gather in groups, some hugging, some crying, others just staring numbly into the forest.

He barely registered it when someone pressed a flashlight into his hand. Another person—Emily, he thought—shoved a folded paper into his hoodie pocket: a sectioned map of the forest grid they'd be searching tonight. On the corner, someone had written: "She's out there. Don't stop."

The authority figures—two Quileute officers and three from Forks—stood on a raised bench at the pavilion's edge. Charlie Swan held a megaphone, his face drawn and pale in the artificial light.

"No one goes alone," Charlie called. His voice was loud, but not commanding. It carried sorrow. "Groups of four, minimum. Stay in your marked grid sections. Call out every five minutes. You see something—anything—you don't touch it. Call us over. We have medics on standby. Phones stay on. Be careful."

The crowd nodded silently. Some hugged their jackets closer. A few started crying.

Just then, Sam appeared at Embry's side, his presence grounding and unshakable as ever. Paul and Jared followed close behind, expressions grim. They didn't speak right away, but their eyes scanned the crowd, alert and purposeful.

Sam's gaze locked on someone near the back of the group.

"Jacob's here," he muttered, low and serious. Then, quieter: "He'll phase soon."

Embry turned to look.

Jacob stood just beyond the main ring of people, half-shrouded by the treeline. He wasn't holding a flashlight. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, and his eyes burned with something heavy—anger, maybe. Or betrayal. He wasn't hiding how he felt. Not anymore.

Their eyes locked.

Embry froze.

Jacob didn't move. Didn't soften. His expression was steel. Hurt and rage tangled in a silent accusation. And Embry felt every inch of it.

Because he remembered.

He remembered sneaking out in the middle of the night to run patrols, only to walk past Jacob's house with his head down. Remembered ignoring Jake's calls, watching his name pop up on his phone again and again and letting it ring out.

Sam had said it was necessary. Said it would protect Jacob—for now.

But standing here, watching his former best friend look at him like a stranger?

It felt like punishment.

He wanted to call out. To explain. To say something.

But Jacob turned away first.

And Embry just stood there, feeling the weight of every choice he'd made since the first time his bones shattered and reformed.

Sam clapped a hand on Embry's shoulder—steady, grounding. "Ignore him for now," he said quietly, eyes still following Jacob's retreating figure. "He'll understand once it happens to him."

Embry swallowed, jaw tight. "Doesn't make it suck less."

Paul and Jared flanked them now, Paul cracking his knuckles absently like he was waiting to hit something, Jared scanning the crowd with a focused intensity.

"They're splitting the groups by neighborhood," Jared said. "Emily and Kim are with Sue Clearwater. Quil's with his cousins. They'll pair us with whoever's left over."

Paul scoffed. "We don't need anyone else. We're faster alone."

Sam gave him a look. "We're not wolves right now. Not unless we have to be."

Embry didn't respond. His thoughts were stuck in the flash of Jacob's expression—how it mirrored his own reflection some days. Isolated. Angry. Shut out.

A whistle blew from the front of the pavilion.

"All right, folks!" one of the Forks officers called. "Team assignments are being finalized now—if you haven't checked in, do so! Maps are on the table to your left, and radios are being handed out on the right. Please make sure someone in your group has one. We've got a long night ahead of us."

The crowd surged, moving into lines.

Embry stuck close to Sam as they maneuvered to the edge of the action.

He looked up toward the stars—barely visible through the clouded canopy overhead—and tried not to imagine Luna out there somewhere. Cold. Bleeding.

Or worse.

Sam spoke low beside him. "We're heading into Grid C. It stretches from the north ridge to the base of Echo Creek."

"That's a steep incline," Jared said, nodding. "We'll need to watch for drop-offs."

Embry nodded but barely heard. His gaze drifted again—to Jacob, who now stood with Billy in a quieter part of the lot. Jake was still watching him. His arms were crossed. His face unreadable.

Sam stepped forward. "Let's move out."

Embry took a breath and followed.

As they moved toward the edge of the forest, flashlights bobbing ahead of them and voices echoing from the groups fanning out, Paul broke the silence with a low grunt.

"There's been a lot of quote-on-quote 'animal attacks' lately," he muttered, kicking a rock out of his path. "But we all know what it really is."

Jared shot him a warning glance. "Probably not the time, Paul."

"Why not?" Paul snapped, turning to face them briefly. "We're wasting our time on a flashlight parade when we could be phasing and tracking her properly. If we were in wolf form, we could've picked up a trail from her house. Blood scent doesn't just disappear."

Embry tensed beside him, his stomach twisting. He knew Paul wasn't wrong. But still.

"It's going to rain," Paul added, more urgently. "You know it's coming. If we wait, that trail's gone."

"We will," Sam said, voice calm but firm. "After this."

Jared furrowed his brow. "So this is just a formality?"

Sam nodded. "It's community. It'd look suspicious if we weren't here—especially with the cops already circling Embry."

Embry didn't flinch, but the weight of it settled deeper on his shoulders. He looked down at the flashlight in his hands and then toward the trees stretching into dark uncertainty.

Sam continued, quieter, for just them: "We have to do this their way first. Keep the peace. Then we'll move."

Paul muttered something under his breath, but fell in step again.

Embry's grip tightened around the flashlight. He didn't care about appearances. He didn't care about playing nice.

He just wanted to find her.

Embry scanned the woods around them, the flashlights and chatter of the search party diffused behind trees. No one was near—no one who would see. His pulse thrummed in his ears. Without thinking, without waiting, he let go.

The shift tore through him in an instant—clothes shivering off his body, bones cracking and reshaping as his muscles stretched and morphed. In seconds, where Embry Call had stood was now a massive gray wolf, panting, anxious, eyes locked on one direction.

Luna's house.

He bolted, paws hammering the forest floor, a blur through the undergrowth.

"Embry!" Sam called after him, sharp and commanding. "Embry!"

But he didn't stop.

Jared ran a hand down his face, glancing at the trees Embry disappeared into. "Nice going, numb nuts," he said dryly to Paul. "You gave him a bright idea."

Paul just shrugged, unbothered. "It's the fastest way to find her."

Sam shook his head, jaw tight. "Yeah. And if a vampire really did take her... all that blood trail will lead to is a body."

Jared glanced over at Sam, brows furrowed. "You really think Luna Mae is dead?"

Sam didn't answer right away. His gaze was fixed on the trees where Embry had vanished, the dark rustling canopy that swallowed him whole. He exhaled through his nose, quiet and grim.

"I think if she isn't already," Sam said finally, "she will be soon. And I think if Embry finds out that way—alone—he'll never come back from it."

Paul shifted beside them, jaw clenched.

Sam turned. "You and I will finish up here," he told Paul. "Keep the cops off our backs. Help pass out more flashlights, move the search lines along."

Then he looked at Jared. "Go get Embry. Make sure he's back here by ten. I want the cops to see him at the park so he's got a solid alibi if anything is... found."

Jared nodded. "Got it."

He stepped toward the edge of the woods, already tugging his shirt off, eyes narrowing. "I'll bring him back."

Jared stepped into the shadows at the edge of the woods, his bare feet digging into the mossy earth. He closed his eyes and let the change wash over him—bones snapping, muscles shifting, fur bursting along his spine like wildfire. In seconds, the boy was gone, and in his place stood a massive dark brown wolf, alert and tense.

He didn't need to sniff to know where Embry was—he could hear his thoughts like they were his own.

'She's gotta be okay. I'll know she's okay. I'll smell it if she is. Please let her be okay.'

Jared ran, paws silent across the forest floor, his strides long and effortless. He found Embry near the tree line just across from Luna Mae's house. The younger wolf was crouched low behind a thick fern, his body taut with restraint, ears pinned back.

A cop cruiser sat idling in front of the house, headlights sweeping the front lawn like a silent sentinel. Embry didn't move closer.

Jared stepped up beside him, pressing his nose into Embry's neck.

'We need to be back by ten,' he reminded softly, 'Sam's orders.'

Embry gave a small nod, muscles rippling under his fur.

Jared sniffed the air—and froze.

The sharp tang of copper hit him first, rich and nauseating. Then came the sickly-sweet stench of fear hormones, human adrenaline, clinging to the grass and tree bark like sweat on skin. And beneath it all, unmistakable and cold as death, was the third scent.

A cold one.

Jared growled low in his throat, teeth bared. He looked at Embry.

'We need to go back. That trail—whatever's at the end of it, we're not ready. Not without Sam.'

Embry didn't answer with words. He stepped forward, nose to the earth, following the trail deeper into the woods. His thoughts were too loud to ignore.

'She's out here. She needs me. I don't care if I die. I'm not leaving her out here.'

Jared growled again, frustrated—but he followed.

The two wolves moved as shadows beneath the trees—silent, swift, unseen. Embry led the way, nose pressed low to the forest floor, the trail winding like a wound through the underbrush. The further they went, the colder the scent became. The copper of blood was strong in places, smeared against a tree trunk, soaked faintly into the grass—but the vampire scent? It grew fresher.

Jared kept pace beside him, his thoughts tight with worry.

'Embry, slow down. This isn't a game. If a Cold One took her...'

'I know!' Embry's mind was a storm—rage, desperation, fear. 'That's why I have to find her. If we can track them before the trail fades, we'll have something. We'll have her.'

They hit a break in the trees—a small hollow near the river. Embry stopped short, sniffing hard. The wind shifted, and both wolves jerked their heads toward the scent. Blood again. Not as strong as before. But there was something else—fabric. Torn cloth. A pale blue thread caught on a branch.

Luna's sweatshirt.

Jared stepped closer, sniffed. Her scent was here—alive, scared, desperate. But no death. Not yet.

'She was here. This was recent.'

Embry nudged the branch and let out a low, sharp whine. His thoughts cracked like glass.

'She was trying to fight back.'

Jared circled the clearing, paws careful. The vampire's scent curled around the area like smoke—faint now, but unmistakable. It was old, more than a day. Not fresh enough to mean danger right this second.

He turned to Embry.

'We need to go. We have something now. We tell Sam. We regroup. Come back with the others. We're not losing her.'

Embry hesitated, chest heaving.

'We can't stop now.'

'We're not stopping. We're being smart. If she's still alive, she needs us sharp. Not reckless.' Jared reasoned.

A long pause.

Then finally, Embry gave a short nod, heart still pounding.

The two wolves turned back toward the park, paws thudding softly across the forest floor—carrying a thread of hope between them.

────୨ৎ────

                           The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hiss of the coffee pot and the low murmur of voices. It was 4 a.m., and the darkness outside pressed heavy against the windows of Sam and Emily's house. Inside, the overhead light cast a warm, tired glow over the kitchen table where Paul and Jared sat slouched in their chairs, exhaustion pulling at their shoulders.

Emily poured steaming coffee into chipped mugs and set them down in front of the boys with a soft clink. Her robe was wrapped tightly around her, and her dark hair was tied back hastily, like she hadn't really slept at all.

Paul wrapped his hands around the mug but didn't drink yet. Jared blew into his cup and muttered, "He took me all the way to Neah Bay."

Paul snorted. "Port Angeles for me."

Emily raised her brows slightly as she leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

Jared glanced at Paul. "Did you even get a break?"

Paul shook his head. "He wouldn't stop. I had to convince him there was no scent past the bus terminal or he would've kept going. He's got this idea now—wants to double back in human form during the day. Says he might be able to spot something he missed, maybe talk to someone."

Jared rubbed his eyes, muttering, "He's gonna run himself into the ground."

Emily didn't say anything, just quietly slid a plate of reheated cornbread toward them, her way of showing worry. They all felt it—this gnawing, electric fear beneath their skin. None of them wanted to say what they were thinking.

That they were running out of time.

That Luna Mae was probably already dead.