Alpha's STOLEN Mate (by Abigail Hayes) novel Chapter 248

Chapter 248

Elowen

I found Scarlett in the corridor outside my chambers, pacing like a caged wolf. The moment she saw me, relief flooded her face.

“Thank God! I was about to break down the council chamber doors-” She grabbed my arm. “Elowen, it’s not just Evelyn. Faelan’s gone.”

My blood went cold. “What do you mean gone?”

“Missing. Vanished. His quarters are a complete disaster-books thrown everywhere, furniture overturned, his research scattered like someone ransacked the place looking for something.” Scarlett’s words came out in a rush. “And you know Faelan-he’s meticulous,

obsessive about organization. He’d never leave his space like that voluntarily. Something’s wrong.”

Faelan. The steady, scholarly Chief Elder who treated ancient texts like sacred relics. The man who’d fallen for Evelyn despite her chaos.

He wouldn’t just disappear, wouldn’t leave his research in disarray unless-

“Show me.”

Faelan’s study looked like a tornado had torn through it-or worse, like violence had erupted in a space that had always been sanctuary.

Bookcases tilted at dangerous angles, their precious contents spilled across the floor in chaotic heaps. Ancient texts lay spine-broken,

pages crumpled. His desk-normally so pristine you could see your reflection in the polished wood-was buried under scattered

parchments, overturned inkwells bleeding black across documents that had probably taken him months to compile. Even his carefully

organized artifact collection lay shattered, pieces of irreplaceable historical items scattered like worthless debris.

But what made my stomach turn wasn’t the destruction itself-it was the wrongness of it.

“This isn’t right.” I knelt beside the desk, careful not to disturb potential evidence. “Faelan would rather die than treat books this way. He

once spent three hours carefully drying a single water-damaged page.” My hands trembled as I touched a torn manuscript. “Someone was

searching for something specific. Or…” I swallowed hard against rising nausea. “Or there was a violent struggle here.”

Scarlett crouched beside me, her voice dropping to a frightened whisper. “Do you think someone took him by force? Or do you think he

panicked and left to find Evelyn?”

“Both possibilities terrify me equally.” I started carefully sifting through the chaos, looking for anything that might tell us where he’d

gone, what had happened. “But if Faelan went after Evelyn voluntarily, why would he trash his own study first? The man organizes his

research by date, subject, and cross-reference. This level of disorder would be physically painful for him. Unless he was in such an

absolute panic that organization became meaningless-”

My hand brushed against something hidden beneath a pile of astronomical charts. Stiff parchment, deliberately concealed. I pulled it free

carefully.

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14:48 Thu, Jan 22

Chapter 248

A map. Old, hand-drawn with meticulous detail, covered in notations written in Faelan’s precise, scholarly script.

“What is that?” Scarlett leaned closer.

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I spread it across the least cluttered section of floor. The map showed vampire territories-but not the public, diplomatic regions. These

were internal territories, restricted areas marked with warning symbols I didn’t recognize.

And in the center, circled multiple times in fresh ink: The Crimson Sanctuary.

“That’s in the heart of Ashenvale,” Scarlett breathed. “Zane’s territory. But I’ve never heard of the Crimson Sanctuary-

“Because it’s forbidden.” My finger traced Faelan’s notations. “Look-he’s marked it as ‘access restricted’ and ‘ancient site. Whatever this

place is, Faelan thought Evelyn might be there.”

I stood abruptly, map clutched in my hand. “He went after her. Alone. That idiot went into vampire territory by himself-*

“We need to leave. Now.” Scarlett was already moving toward the door, her warrior instincts kicking in. “I’ll gather supplies, weapons,

provisions for at least a week’s journey-”

“Elowen! Wait!”

Kaius’s voice made us both freeze mid-motion. He stood in the doorway, chest heaving like he’d sprinted the entire distance from the

council chamber, probably taking stairs three at a time.

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