A Warrior's Second Chance (Faye and Alexander) novel Chapter 52

FAYE

I felt the car slow down before Cole even spoke, his hands easing the steering wheel. “We’re

here,” he said.

I turned my head and peered through the windshield. The northern border. The air was sharper here, cooler for some reason. I was grateful I wore a thick jacket.

Cole brought the vehicle to a stop beside a small cluster of buildings that looked more like barracks than homes–functional, sturdy, but unwelcoming.

Before he could make his usual gentlemanly rush to open my door, I unbuckled and pushed it open myself. The gravel crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out. I preferred it this way- doing things myself, keeping my sense of independence. I didn’t enjoy been treated like I was fragile, like the role of Luna meant being coddled instead of trusted. That wasn’t me…that

would never be me.

Cole’s boots hit the ground beside me as he rounded the car. “Come this way,” he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head. His tone wasn’t commanding…more protective than anything else. I fell in step with him, keeping my eyes forward as the security post loomed

closer.

The building looked like a converted quarters…solid wood, narrow windows, smoke curling faintly from a chimney. It was the kind of place where men stayed too long, where the air turned thick with sweat, beer, and boredom between shifts. Sure enough, as Cole and I approached, a handful of guards emerged, drawn out by the sound of the car.

They were Blood Crescent men, each carrying the mark of service. Their gazes flickered over me with curiosity, recognition, maybe even skepticism. I was Luna, yes–but I was also still new, still foreign. My presence here was unexpected.

Cole took the lead. “This is Luna Faye,” he announced.

“Hello,” I greeted.

He didn’t have to introduce me, not really–they all knew who I was. But his insistence told me he wanted to establish something, to remind them of the respect my title commanded, even if my position wasn’t yet secure in their eyes.

One man in particular stepped forward, the leader of the crew if the way the others glanced at him was any indication. He had a bottle of beer in hand, half–drained, foam clinging stubbornly to the glass. His brows rose slightly as he looked at me. “Luna,” he greeted, lifting

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the bottle in a mock salute. “You should come in, have a drink with us.”

+25 Points

There was something dismissive in his tone, like he was humoring me, testing me. I kept my smile polite, shaking my head. “No, thank you. We’re just here to look around.”

Just like that, I made it sound casual, as though I wasn’t here for any real reason beyond curiosity. The man’s eyes narrowed, but my tone seemed to disarm him. He shrugged and handed his bottle to one of his men before stepping forward. “Then let me join you. I’ll show you around.”

Cole didn’t object, though his stance shifted slightly, protective. He gestured for me to take the lead, but I moved beside him instead. I didn’t want to look like I needed shielding.

As we walked, the man made conversation–casual on the surface, but sharp beneath it. “So, Luna, what exactly are you looking for out here? Surely you didn’t come all this way just for sightseeing.”

Cole glanced at me, but he didn’t speak. He was letting me answer for myself. I respected him for that.

“I’m aware of what happened at this border,” I said, keeping my tone even, matter–of–fact. ” The guards who were stationed here disappeared without a trace. No one has been able to explain what happened. And while I can’t just sit in the packhouse pretending none of this concerns me, I thought I might as well see the place with my own eyes.”

The man raised an eyebrow, and there was a glint of amusement..no, challenge…in his gaze. “And what makes you think you’ll find anything here? The Alpha himself came. Beta Cole here came around twice. Men who’ve been in the field for years combed through this ground. Do you think you’re better at finding things than them?”

He didn’t know. He couldn’t have known.

Even while my mouth moved with polite words, my eyes had been everywhere–scanning and assessing. My father had drilled it into me back in Silver Hollow: Never trust the obvious. The land always tells its own story if you know how to listen.

So when the man mocked me, I didn’t really care. I focused on what I came for.

Both he and Cole halted, watching me with faint surprise as I crouched low, my hands hovering above the ground, measuring distances in gestures, letting my eyes narrow against the earth. To them it probably looked like random fussing. But to me, the picture was already forming.

I heard Cole shift behind me, his boots crunching closer. “Luna, be careful,” he said quietly.

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Chapter 52

“I’m fine,” I replied without looking at him.

+25 Points

The ground bore marks that at first seemed ordinary–prints pressed into the dirt, branches. broken where men or beasts had passed. Marks everyone else may have seen and maybe dismissed. But they had looked at them from the perspective of regular soldiers, of guards, of Alpha and Beta.

I looked at them the way my father taught me…

The prints weren’t uniform. Some pressed deep into the soil, as if the weight behind them had been heavier, more deliberate. Others were faint, in strange patterns. The broken branches weren’t consistent with careless trampling. They bent in directions that spoke of hesitation, of something–or someone–doubling back.

I moved slowly, tracing lines only I could see, my fingers brushing a branch as though it might speak if I touched it right. Cole fell silent, and even the man with us stopped his testing banter. I could feel their eyes on me, waiting.

And then, as the silence stretched, I realized something that made my heart pound harder in my chest.

This wasn’t just an attack. It wasn’t just a disappearance.

It was staged.

Cole must have noticed my countenance, because he called, “Are you ok?”

I just nodded. The entire scene looked convincing…too convincing. But to me, the soil crumbled too neatly, the impression too sharp for something left days ago… only a fresh track should look that neat. These had been pressed in deliberately.

I frowned. “These don’t look right.”

Cole had been standing a few feet away, but immediately I spoke, he stepped closer, “What

do

you mean? You can see the tracks, right? The pattern…”

“Of course,” I said, glancing up at him before looking back at the ground. “That’s the problem. They’re too clean. If someone had been moving through here in a hurry, or even a fight, there would be uneven pressure in the soil, slips, scuffs. But every one of these prints is planted firmly, like someone stood here and pressed them down.” I let out a breath and stood, dusting my hands on a handkerchief Cole handed to me.

Cole tilted his head slightly. “You’re saying someone made these on purpose? Why would they bother?”

I walked a little deeper, eyes catching on a broken branch dangling just above my shoulder

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