(Luca's perspective)
Crissy's head bobbed up and down, taking me fully in her mouth but my mind was somewhere else—anywhere else. She was trying, I'd give her that, pulling out every trick she knew to hold my attention. But it wasn't working. She could've had the skills of a goddess, and it still wouldn't have mattered. She wasn't who I wanted.
I leaned my head back against the leather seat, staring out the window as the Alaskan wilderness blurred past. Mountains dusted with snow loomed in the distance, their cold permanence mocking the chaos inside me. The tension in my chest tightened as a familiar ache gnawed at my ribs. Quinn. Goddamn Quinn.
Five years. Five long, excruciating years since she'd been ripped from my life. One day she was there, trying to get my attention, trying to be seen and arguing with me in that stubborn, wild way of hers. The next, she was gone. Taken by that bastard Echo, swallowed up by shadows while I stood there, powerless. I'd searched every inch of land, chased every whisper of a lead, and still came up empty.
But quitting? That wasn't in my DNA.
Lately, out of nowhere, I'd been getting anonymous tips. Coordinates, sightings, vague whispers that pointed toward her possible whereabouts. It didn't make sense after all this time, but I didn't care. I'd follow every breadcrumb, chase down every shadow until I had her back or died trying.
Crissy made a desperate little sound, dragging me back to the present. Her lips clung to me, eyes wide with that pathetic need to please. She wanted more than just a quick fuck—she wanted me. The Alpha. The status. The whole damn package.
Pathetic little thing back then, a nineteen-year-old girl who had no pack and didn't belong anywhere. She reminded me of Quinn, just enough to make me let her in. It didn't take long before she started throwing herself at me. One day, she'd pushed it too far. I'd come back empty-handed, as usual. Quinn's face, her voice, the faint scent of her, all slipping further away as weeks became months.
Crissy had stood there, leaning over me with her shirt pulled low, some attempt to seduce me that only fed my anger. I was done. I snapped. Without even thinking, I'd grabbed her by the neck, slammed her into the wall so hard I heard her gasp. Something snapped inside me, some thread I'd been holding onto. And as I looked into her frightened eyes, I could almost see Quinn again, a flicker of her before I crushed it out.
I let go of Crissy, and she took that as her moment to get what she wanted. She leaned into me, and I let myself believe, just for a second, that she was someone else. She unbuckled my pants, played with my junk and I plunged myself into her in a violent rage – I fucked her like a ravenous animal. And from then on, Crissy became my outlet. She'd let me use her, she wanted it, she begged for it, and I'd take her. But every single time, I closed my eyes and forced Quinn's face to replace hers. That was the only way I could tolerate it, the only way I could stand another woman in my bed.
The memories blurred as I neared my climax. I could almost picture Quinn's face, that fire in her eyes, the way she'd never beg. Quinn had been all stubborn, sharp edges, and hell, she'd been Luna material if there ever was one. As I convulsed, shuddering into Crissy's mouth, I felt that momentary relief. But it was like every time – short-lived and empty.
When I looked down, she was staring up at me with those lovesick eyes, my release glistening on her lips.
I pushed her off with a firm hand, her surprised gasp cutting through the heavy silence. "Enough," I muttered, zipping up my jeans.
Her brows knitted in confusion. "But don't you want to—?"
"No." My tone was ice. "Get out."
She blinked, hurt flickering across her face before she masked it with a sultry smile. "Come on, baby," she purred, leaning closer. "Let me make you forget her."
Rage flared in my chest. My hand shot out, gripping her chin hard enough to make her wince. "You'll never be her," I snarled. "Now get the fuck out."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she swallowed them down, pride forcing her to hold her head high as she grabbed her coat and stormed out. The door slammed shut, leaving a suffocating silence in her wake.
Good. I needed the quiet.
I sank back into the chair, running a hand through my hair. The craving for Quinn was a festering wound, raw and bleeding. No matter how many women I tried to lose myself in, none of them could erase her from my mind. She was branded into me, her memory etched into my bones.
The door creaked open, and Ethan sauntered in, his usual cocky grin plastered across his face. He caught sight of Crissy storming down the hall and let out a low whistle.
"Having fun, brother?" he teased, leaning against the doorframe.
I shot him a glare. "What do you want?"
"Nice to see you too," he drawled.
Ethan had become my closest ally since Quinn disappeared. He'd been angry at first, resentful, but when she disappeared, he was just as upset about it but then he saw what losing her had done to me. He understood, in a way no one else could. Not long after, he'd found his mate, Teely, the same time I met Crissy. They were both rouges, travelling cross country together but Teely had an attitude, confidence that made her valuable. She and Ethan been inseparable since.
"Marcus wants to see you. Says he's got something important," Ethan said motioning out the door.
My heart skipped a beat, but I forced my expression to remain neutral. "What kind of important?"
Ethan shrugged. "Didn't say. Just looked serious as hell."
Serious wasn't a word I took lightly when it came to Marcus. If he was here, it meant something big.
I stood, rolling my shoulders to shake off the lingering tension. "Fine. Let's hear it."
We made our way to the weaponry room, a sprawling space lined with maps, monitors, and tactical gear. Marcus stood at the head of the table, his expression grim.
"What's going on?" I asked, cutting straight to the point.
Marcus glanced at Ethan, then back at me. "We have a lead."
The room tilted. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. "A lead?" My voice was barely a whisper. "On what?"
His eyes met mine, steady and unflinching. "Quinn."