Chapter Ten

“Has anyone seen King?” Katrina asked the shifters breaking camp.

Cash took one look at her and then strode right for the woods, a frown etched onto his face.

She looked around, and they were down a few, King included. Also, even more terrifying, the blue snow machine was gone, and only the yellow remained.

A feeling of deep discomfort washed through her body like a wave of fog.

No one was answering her, and they were all avoiding eye contact. “Timber?” she asked, pushing the flap of her and Wreck’s tent open. Only Timber was in there, rolling up their sleeping bags. “Where are Wreck and King?”

“They went into town.” Timber kept her eyes on her work.

“What do you mean? Why did they leave early? We shouldn’t split up.”

Timber stopped her work and rocked back on her knees, reached into her jacket pocket, and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. “He said he wasn’t good at goodbyes.” Timber stretched her arm out, offering the folded letter.

Dread filled Katrina’s middle. For a three-count, she couldn’t convince her legs to move. Goodbyes? King wasn’t good at goodbyes?

She pushed her body into motion and took the letter gingerly from Timber’s grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Timber whispered, her eyes full of deep emotion.

Katrina left the tent and made it all the way to the woods before she opened the letter, far from the view of prying eyes.

She checked behind her, but no one was following.

With a towering pine at her back, she unfolded the letter.

Kat,

My place isn’t with Wreck’s Crew. I knew it wasn’t. I will remember the last few days with you for a long time. I remembered who I am because you were so damn good at reminding me. You are going to have a great life in Wreck’s Crew, and I will think of you from time to time. You’re hot, woman, but I can say I don’t think it was the same for me as it was for you. You deserve better than a half life with someone who doesn’t feel the same. You did that before with your ex, and I don’t want you to do that for me. Stay single for a while. Figure out who the hell you are, and I’ll do the same. From here on, you are in the driver’s seat. You are running your life. Stay the course. Always stay the course.

I had fun with you.

King

He didn’t feel the same about her as she did him?

Katrina rested her back against the trunk of the tree and looked up at the branches, hoping the cold air would relieve the burn in her eyes.

He didn’t feel the same?

Why had he felt so big then?

Why had he been so protective?

Why had he slept with her?

Why had he kissed her?

She didn’t understand. Could men just be that cold? Get what they want, and then leave?

The burning in her eyes became overwhelming. She slid her back down the tree and buried her stupid crying face against her arms.

“Hoo, hoo.”

She looked up at the branches of the tree in front of her, tears streaking down her cheeks and leaving frozen tracks down her warm skin. A massive snowy owl sat there on a low-hanging branch, watching her.

She had no guess who it was, but she knew it was a shifter. The unnaturally enormous size gave it away. “Go away,” she murmured brokenly.

The owl spread its massive wings and dropped off the branch, beat its wings against the air currents, and headed back in the direction of camp.

Sadness consumed her. She’d really liked King. Really and truly, she probably loved him, and she knew that made no sense. They had known each other for that one fucked-up day in Cold Foot, and then just a few days of freedom, but he felt so big to her.

Had Raynah been right? Was their bond just a product of that medicine they’d received at the prison to make them couple up? It had to be, right? If those feelings were fading for King, maybe it was the medicine, but more likely was that she simply wasn’t enough. She wasn’t pretty enough, or funny enough, or interesting enough, to attract someone like King.

A wave of memories took her.

Always being less than.

Always wanting more.

The way Rook had said, “You are nothing, and you will always be nothing,” as he dragged the blade down her face.

The looks on her Pridemate’s faces as he shoved that awful black powder into her cut to keep it open. Rook had to carve just the right scar, right?

The way King had made her feel important, and then in one letter, yanked that away from her.

The pain of burning alive under Wreck’s fire.

The agony of being reborn under the green flames.

The first day of prison, and how many times she’d gotten her ass kicked as the new lioness on the block.

The day at the prison with King, and all the confusion that had consumed her since.

Why was she only remembering the last couple of years as the big events of her life? Was it her growing older? Was it her brain putting value in things that had only recently happened, that she was mature enough to deal with now?

Gah, everything was so confusing and overwhelming. Like this—being outside in the Alaskan wilderness, just free to look at the sky with no one telling her what to do, or where she should be, or trying to punish her for a peaceful moment. Even if this moment felt anything but peaceful, to the snowy owl, perhaps it appeared that way.

Just a girl in the snow in the wide-open space and fresh air of a place that felt nothing like the prison that she’d been trapped in just days ago.

Nothing mattered if she wasn’t sharing it with the man who made her happiest, though.

And there it was.

He made her happy.

Shhhhit.

She pushed off the tree, stood up, and traipsed through the woods toward camp with a goal on her mind and motivation in her heart.

“I want to know where he went,” she announced.

The tents had been emptied and stood barren with their flaps open. The fire was just embers now, and a pot of coffee sat warming on the smoking ashes. Raynah was sitting in one of the camp chairs, facing the woods she’d just come from. When she saw Katrina, she had stood.

“I want to know where he went!” she repeated, louder.

The guys were standing around the fire loosely, all except Cash. Cash the freaking snowy owl! Little spy just wanting to see her cry! What an asshole.

“He’s gone,” Raynah said. “Him and the others who were let go. Cash got the last knife.”

Katrina shook her head. “No.” She lifted the note. “No! Let’s go after them! Come on. Let’s load up. They can’t be that far ahead of us—”

“Katrina—”

“No, Raynah! That’s not all I get!” A stupid sob escaped her. “That’s not all.”

“He made this choice,” Raynah said softly, pulling her in for a hug. “He asked to go.”

“Don’t touch me,” she whispered brokenly, flinching out of Raynah’s hug. “You don’t understand.”

“I do understand.”

“You don’t.”

“I do! Feels like your heart’s breaking just being away from him? No matter what happened in Cold Foot, he can do no wrong? He’s all you can think about?”

“He’s not the Jackal!”

“He’s exactly the same!” Raynah yelled. “He’s the same! They’re all the fucking same. King figured it out and is cutting you loose. Let him cut you loose! He’s giving you a gift!”

“He’s not the Jackal,” she said again, stubbornly. She jammed her finger at Raynah. “And fuck you for pretending he is. King got us out of that prison, and saved us from that fire. He got us out thinking he wouldn’t be able to escape. The Jackal was hunting us. Your bond has nothing to do with mine!”

“None of this brings him back,” Raynah murmured, hands out.

And she was right. Arguing over the depth of her bond to King wouldn’t bring him back. What was the point of defending him, or embarrassing herself by admitting how much he meant to her?

It wouldn’t change anything.

She hung her head and nodded, then strode through the snow to the tent she’d shared with King. She packed quickly, rolled up their sleeping bags, and set them with the mats in the corner, just like she’d found them last night.

She felt numb. Empty. Like there was this enormous hole in her center that would never be filled again.

He didn’t feel the same as her?

This hurt. It hurt bad. In Cold Foot, she’d learned to turn her feelings off, but over the last few days, she’d flipped the switch and turned them back on. She regretted it. This felt too big, too overwhelming, and too painful.

He’d left. He’d left her.

After touching her body and soul last night, he’d really left.

She pulled her phone out of her bag and opened up his text thread. Come back. Please. She hesitated on sending the message though. She blew out a steadying breath and wiped her damp cheeks. She had to learn how to have pride in herself. She hadn’t done that before, in her last relationship.

Stay the course. That’s what he’d written to her.

Okay. Okay, King. If this is what he wanted, she would stay the fucking course. She wasn’t going to make it pretty, and she also wasn’t going to apologize for the moments that she would struggle with it, because truthfully, she was going to miss him so extremely much.

She deleted the text and shoved her phone back into her bag, shouldered it, and stood.

Timber was waiting right outside. “It’s okay.”

“Nothing feels okay,” Katrina said, feeling the well of her emotions filling up again. “You gonna tell me to buck up now? That it’s just a fake bond? Save it. I have been told how to feel for so long, and this time, I’m just going to feel it. I don’t have to whine and bitch about it, but no one is going to tell me what I feel isn’t real.”

“It’s real,” Timber said softly, her eyes rimming with tears. “I’m so, so, so sorry.”

That was an unexpected response after the things Raynah had said.

Timber pulled her into a tight embrace and just…stood there. Slowly, Katrina lifted her arms and hugged her back. They stood like that for a long time. Felt good. Felt like she wasn’t alone with this enormous weight on her heart.

Timber eased her back to arm’s length. “Whatever you need, ask.” She gave her a sympathetic smile, and then made her way toward the yellow people-mover, wiping her eyes as she went.

The others followed Timber, and Katrina watched them go. She felt lonely.

Movement behind her made her turn around. Cash was tromping out of the woods, boots untied, jeans unzipped, pulling on his sweater. She felt too defeated to remain angry about his spying on her earlier. Besides, he looked angry too.

He ducked into his tent, and came out a few seconds later with his pack and his jacket pulled on. He barely glanced at her as he stormed by, but he hesitated right beside her and handed her something. It was a pine cone.

“What is this for?”

“For you. I can’t do this shit. I can’t do the emotional-girl stuff. Just…don’t cry around me.” He shrugged like he was uncomfortable and trudged off, leaving her with the pine cone resting on the palm of her hand.

“I was trying to cry alone,” she called after him.

“Don’t care,” he called without turning around.

The pine cone in her hand said he did care.

Honestly, it kind of touched her heart. She didn’t have many belongings, so she wrapped her fingers around it and followed Cash toward the huge yellow machine that was smoking exhaust out the back and warming up.

This was the start of a new life. She had planned on King being a part of it, but he didn’t want it. Didn’t want to build something with her. She would overthink this for months to come, but she couldn’t fall apart here. Not with these people who were nearly strangers. Not when she didn’t understand her feelings, or know how to shoulder the hurt.

Her footing was so uneven now, and she hated the feeling.

Quietly, she climbed into the machine and made her way to the back seat. It was empty. She set her bag next to herself, and clutched the letter from King as she looked out the window and tried to steady her thoughts.

Her life was hopeful, but it didn’t feel that way. She had come miles from the monotonous day-to-day that existed in Cold Foot Prison, and she was headed toward a better life, with a Crew, and a built-in family.

But this damn hole in her chest just felt like it was getting deeper and wider.

If this was really the medicine, as Raynah believed, she hoped the love she had for King would fade fast.

After it did, she hoped she never fell for anyone ever again.