Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband

Chapter 215: The Tracking Mission

Stealth was an absolute science. It required the complete elimination of sound, scent, and visibility. A true assassin merged with the environment until they were nothing more than a trick of the light.

And it was incredibly difficult to merge with the environment when you had a bright yellow, violently cheerful frog strapped to your chest.

Lucien stood at the edge of the dense forest bordering the cliffside manor, adjusting the heavy leather baby-carrier Cassian had hastily modified. Inside the carrier, completely secure against Lucien’s chest, was Pip.

The two-year-old Duck-kin had utterly refused to take off the yellow canvas raincoat. If Lucien tried to unbutton it, Pip’s lower lip would tremble, and the tears would well up. So, the Lord of Shadows—the most feared killer in the Empire—was going on a tactical reconnaissance mission carrying a neon yellow amphibian.

"This is a tactical disaster," Cassian sighed, standing on the patio with his arms crossed. "He is practically glowing. You might as well light a signal fire and announce your presence to the entire coast."

"I will dim the coat with shadow-magic," Lucien replied smoothly, though he was already silently funneling an embarrassing amount of ancient, dark mana just to mute the bright yellow dye.

"Let me come with you!" Rurik argued for the fifth time, pacing the grass like a caged beast. The Wolf Warlord had his massive battle-axe strapped to his back. "I can track! I can sniff out the poachers! If there is a fight, you will need the Alpha!"

"If there is a fight, I will end it before they even draw their weapons," Lucien said, his voice dropping into that cold, terrifyingly calm register. "You are too loud, Rurik. Your heavy boots break branches. Your scent is too strong. If these poachers get spooked, they will kill their captives to destroy the evidence. We need absolute silence."

Rurik ground his teeth, but he gave a sharp, frustrated nod. He knew Lucien was right. "Fine. But the guards and I will be waiting at the tree line. If I hear a single roar, I am charging in."

"Understood," Lucien said.

He looked over at Silas. The six-year-old panther-cub was dressed in dark clothes, his violet eyes completely focused. Silas didn’t need to be told how serious this was. He was ready.

"Let’s move," Lucien commanded quietly.

They slipped into the trees, leaving the loud Warlords and the safety of the manor behind.

The forest was dense and humid, but Lucien moved through it like smoke. He didn’t disturb a single leaf. Beside him, Silas copied his movements perfectly, placing his small feet exactly where Lucien stepped to avoid making any noise.

Normally, Lucien preferred to work entirely alone. Attachments were dangerous in his line of work. They made you hesitate. But as he felt the soft, rhythmic breathing of the little toddler strapped to his chest, he realized that this attachment didn’t make him weak.

It made him absolutely lethal.

"Papa," Pip whispered loudly, pointing a chubby finger at a bright blue butterfly fluttering past them.

"Shh, little bird," Lucien murmured, his voice barely a breath. He raised a gloved finger to his lips. "We are playing the quiet game. Like shadows."

Pip’s dark eyes widened. He seemed to understand. He aggressively slapped both of his chubby hands over his own mouth, nodding fiercely. The giant stuffed frog eyes on his hood bounced with the movement.

Lucien felt a sharp, painful tug in his chest. *I will find her,* he promised silently to the little boy. *I will bring your mother home.*

They navigated the dense woods for twenty minutes before the tree line broke, giving way to the sprawling, wind-swept coastal cliffs. The tall, golden sea-grass swayed heavily in the ocean breeze. It was beautiful, but it was also the perfect place to hide an ambush.

Silas dropped to a low crouch, creeping forward. Lucien followed, his senses expanding. He pushed his magic outward, feeling the temperature of the air, the shifts in the wind, the vibrations in the dirt.

"Here," Silas whispered, stopping near the very edge of the cliff drop-off.

Lucien knelt down. The sea-grass here wasn’t just swaying; it was violently flattened in a massive, chaotic circle.

Lucien’s violet eyes scanned the scene, his assassin instincts instantly piecing the violent puzzle together.

"Three attackers," Lucien noted softly, pointing to the deep, heavy boot prints pressed into the mud. "They surrounded her. They used heavy iron-mesh nets."

He reached out and touched a scorched patch of earth. "She didn’t surrender. She used magic. Wind or lightning, judging by the burn marks on the grass. She blew one of them backward." He pointed to a deep, sliding heel mark in the dirt where a heavy man had clearly been knocked off his feet.

"Mama strong?" Pip babbled quietly, his tiny hands still covering his mouth, but his eyes watching Lucien intently.

"Yes, Pip," Lucien whispered, a fierce surge of respect filling him. "Your Mama is very strong. She fought like a Warlord."

Lucien crawled further into the crushed grass. He found the exact spot where Silas had picked up the silver-tipped feather. And right next to it, hidden deep beneath a thick clump of uncrushed reeds, was a small, perfectly hollowed-out little nest lined with downy feathers.

It was tiny. Just big enough to hide a baby.

She had known she was outnumbered. Instead of trying to fly away and risking them shooting her down with her baby, she had hidden Pip in the deepest part of the grass, covered him up, and then stepped out to draw the poachers’ attention away from the nest.

She had sacrificed her own freedom to ensure they didn’t find her son.

Lucien’s jaw tightened so hard his teeth ached. A dark, terrifying aura began to bleed off him, chilling the air. The shadows around his boots writhed hungrily.

"Lucien," Silas whispered nervously, sensing his older brother’s killing intent.

Lucien took a slow, deep breath, forcing the violent magic back down. He could not lose control. Not with the cubs here.

"I am fine, Silas," Lucien said evenly. He stood up, examining the trail leaving the crushed circle. "They didn’t go back through the woods. The mud shows they dragged a heavy net toward the rocky decline. They went down toward the water."

"The smuggler coves," Silas realized, his eyes widening. "The deep caves under the cliffs."

"Exactly," Lucien nodded. "They are likely waiting for a black-market ship to arrive under the cover of darkness to transport their cargo."

Lucien adjusted Pip’s carrier, ensuring the toddler was completely secure, and began to follow the trail.

The path down the cliffside was treacherous, made of jagged, slippery rocks and loose gravel. But to panthers, it was as easy as walking on a paved road. Lucien and Silas descended in absolute silence, sticking to the deep shadows cast by the overhanging rocks.

The smell hit them before they even saw the cave.

It was a foul, oily stench, mixed with the sharp scent of unwashed bodies and cheap ale.

Lucien held up a hand, signaling Silas to stop. They crouched behind a massive, jagged boulder near the base of the cliffs.

Just fifty yards ahead, hidden behind a natural outcropping of rock, was the entrance to a massive sea-cave. The tide was low, exposing the damp, sandy floor of the cavern. Two gruff, heavily scarred hyena-kin mercenaries were standing guard outside the entrance. They were leaning against the rock face, holding rusted crossbows and passing a leather flask back and forth.

"Did you hear the racket she was making earlier?" one of the guards grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nearly bit the boss’s finger clean off."

"She’s a wild one," the other guard laughed cruelly. "But those silver flight feathers will fetch a fortune in the underground capital. The boss is going to clip her wings before the boat gets here tonight. Make her easier to transport."

Lucien felt his blood run entirely cold.

*Clip her wings.* To an avian beast-kin, clipping their wings wasn’t just physical torture; it was a permanent, agonizing mutilation that stripped them of their magic and their connection to the sky.

Lucien’s violet eyes burned in the darkness. The shadows around him began to sharpen into physical, deadly blades.

"Silas," Lucien whispered, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, contained rage.

"Yes, brother?" Silas replied, his own small hands clenching into fists.

Lucien unbuckled the heavy leather baby carrier from his chest. He carefully handed the entire carrier, with Pip still sitting inside it wearing his bright yellow frog-cloak, to Silas.

"Take him," Lucien ordered softly. "Hide behind this boulder. Do not make a sound. Do not step out of the shadows, no matter what you hear."

Silas took the carrier, holding it tightly against his chest. He looked at Lucien, his eyes wide. "Are you going to send the signal to Rurik?"

"No," Lucien said simply.

He didn’t have time to wait for Rurik and the guards to navigate the rocky cliffs. He didn’t have time for a coordinated siege. If they were preparing to mutilate Pip’s mother right now, every single second mattered.

Lucien reached to his waist, drawing two sleek, wicked-looking daggers that seemed to absorb the light around them.

"I am going to clip *their* wings," Lucien whispered.

"Papa?" Pip babbled softly, reaching a chubby hand out toward Lucien.

Lucien paused. He knelt back down, pressing a soft kiss to Pip’s forehead, right over the silly frog eyes.

"Close your eyes, little bird," Lucien murmured gently. "Papa has to go to work."

Lucien stood up and turned toward the cave. He didn’t walk. He simply stepped forward and let the darkness swallow him whole.

Silas immediately retreated deep into the crevice behind the boulder, wrapping his arms around Pip and covering the bright yellow raincoat with his own dark jacket. He clamped his hands over Pip’s ears, just like Lucien had taught him.

Less than two seconds later, the first hyena-kin guard outside the cave dropped to the ground without making a single sound. The second guard turned, his eyes widening in panic as a shadow separated itself from the rock wall.

Lucien didn’t even give him time to scream.

The Lord of Shadows slipped silently into the damp, echoing darkness of the smuggler’s cave, leaving nothing but absolute silence in his wake.