Lone Star Mountain Stick with the plan, we'll find another way in.

When Stark's call had risen, Buchanan had went searching for the alpha and when he found Banner's brother, the assassin joined him on the trek outside of the Keep, making sure that he kept his pace slower than the alpha male's. It was an easy habit to fall into: it had been brutally conditioned into him and these days he found a measure of relief, a blanket of security in being obedient and submissive. Though Stark was not The Officer Buchanan did not discriminate and showed the other male the same level of obedience, submission and respect that he showed The Officer. Plus, being sweet on his sister as Buchanan was...well...the end game was that he didn't want to be on Stark's bad side, regardless. “He watched me hunt a few days ago.” Buchanan offered in affirmation when Stark spoke about Silas. The dark wraith didn't add that he'd been hunting for Banner's feather collection because it seemed irrelevant. The important thing was that, yes, he had met Silas. “Damn,” Buchanan drew in a quiet murmur when Stark informed him that Silas was missing his father, brother and sister. Of course, being ripped from his parents and any semblance of a normal childhood, Buchanan couldn't exactly sympathize with the boy as he didn't remember anything before The Officer, but he did feel pity for the young juvenile. No one deserved to feel that kind of loneliness. It had to be taxing.

Finding one of them was going to be hard enough, let alone all of them — the mysterious alpha female Octavia included; but they couldn't rush out and try to find all of them at once. It would never work. “Where are we starting?” He inquired, because they had to start somewhere, after all; and the more that he knew about the missing wolf they were starting their hunt for the better. “What happened to them? Was this caused by something or did it just happen on accident? Is there any place that they would have possibly gone to?” Buchanan caught himself after he fired off the questions, his jaw snapping close audibly. “I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to overstep boundaries by asking like that.” Habit. Apologize for asking questions because The Officer didn't tolerate questions. The only answer Buchanan had ever gotten to any question he'd dared ask was the elder's teeth around his throat.

“I want to help; besides I'm apart of the pack. That means being beneficial to and helping the pack in any way that I can,” He inhaled deeply and let it out. “I'm an exceptional tracker.” Yet, it was not boasting as he spoke it. Tracker. That was a nice way to put it. It sounded better than “assassin”, at any rate. The more he knew about his target, the better and there was very little that stopped Buchanan once he was on the trail. This was a mission, but not with the end game being death. Instead, the end game was to rescue, to bring back the lost and ...it was nice to put his very specific skill set to use for philanthropist work as opposed to the work that belonged to the grim reaper.