11. Impostor

Chapter 11

Impostor

Bishop

2 hours earlier

Once some time passed since we’d bonded, I stopped noticing Sinclair’s feelings. Unless she was experiencing a really strong emotion, it was more of a background noise in the bond that I could tune into when I wanted, but otherwise wasn’t blaringly obvious.

Until it disappears. Then, the sudden silence is deafening.

I stop the soccer ball under my foot and don’t move. Even when Maverick, one of the Beryll alphas, shoulder checks me and kicks the ball out from under my sole, I don’t move.

I find Ecker on the field, and he has the same confused and concerned look on his face that I probably do.

“I can’t feel her,” he says, a hint of panic in his voice.

“Me either.” My own voice is calm, hiding the rising tide of concern inside me.

I try to think through what I felt before this, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I could tell she was safe, having fun even. I felt her contentment through the bond. There was maybe a hint of annoyance, but nothing that told me she was in danger, and it quickly passed.

The game has stopped and Griffin jogs up to me. “What’s wrong?”

“The bond, it’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Titus asks, stepping into the circle now forming.

“Dude, something’s wrong.” Ecker anxiously shoves his fingers through his sweaty hair.

“It’s okay.” Griffin claps a supportive hand on his shoulder, but Ecker shakes it off and starts pacing. “Let’s go down to the lake and check on them.”

We’ve been playing soccer for the past hour while our omegas went to the lake. Suddenly, unwanted images of Sinclair’s body floating lifeless in the water fill my mind. My throat tightens as I picture her drowning, caught on something indistinguishable at the bottom of the murky lake.

There has to be some other explanation for why the bond disappeared. If she was seriously hurt, I would have felt her fear before it went dark.

There has to be another explanation. There just has to.

I don’t know when I started running, but I come to a halt at the sight of the empty floats tied to the dock. No sign of Sinclair or Paisley.

Ecker turns to the Beryll alpha and presses, “Are you sure they were here?”

Griffin nods his head definitively. “Positive. I can scent Paisley. She was definitely here and not long ago.”

I close my eyes and try to focus on the scents carried in the light breeze coming off the lake. The worried knot in my chest doubles in size when I can’t catch a single hint of my mate.

Titus takes in the scene. “Their towels and clothes aren’t here, so they must have left. They didn’t just disappear on the lake.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ecker nods his head frantically. “Yeah, they probably just headed back. Sinclair can’t handle that much sun. Did she bring sunscreen? Does she even have sunscreen? We need to get her some sunscreen. Yeah, I’ll get her some. A hat too. Yeah, that will be good. Good.”

He talks in a frantic stream of consciousness that makes Titus look even more concerned than before. I don’t think he’s ever been too worried about our omega, but he doesn’t like what he’s seeing with Ecker. Neither do I.

Losing her during the Vigilance Trial was really hard on him. I’m sure this feels like bad déjà vu. His bond is fresher than mine, so everything is still heightened. The good and the bad. And right now, he’s feeling a lot of bad.

“This can’t be happening again. This can’t be happening again.” He shakes his head and stomps from one side of the dock to the other.

Titus naturally falls into the levelheaded leadership role. “Let’s return to our wings and see if they’re there. Then we’ll meet outside the dining hall and report back.”

It’s getting harder and harder to keep calm, but we don’t need two of us freaking out. Sinclair wasn’t in our wing, and it didn’t seem like she had returned from the lake at any point either.

“This is stupid. Let’s just go there ourselves,” Ecker insists as we wait outside the dining hall as agreed upon.

“Chill, they’ll be here any second,” Titus says, and I can’t tell if he is concerned or just annoyed. He likes to act annoyed by anything having to do with our omega. But I know he never stops caring about the pack, and that includes Sinclair now.

All of us look down the hall at the sound of approaching feet. My heart lodges in my throat as I wait for the Berylls to turn the corner. Griffin comes into view, and he doesn’t have an immediate look of concern on his face, but I still find it hard to breathe.

Especially when he opens his mouth. “Paisley’s alone in our wing. Sinclair told her she was going back to yours.”

“I wanna talk to her.” Ecker lunges forward, and both Noah and Maverick step up to stop him.

“You will not go harassing our omega. She told us all she knows.” Griffin’s tone leaves no room for argument. “But we will wait with you until she comes back or will help you look. Paisley suggested the garden. She said Sinclair likes to go there sometimes, right?”

I recognize the protective streak in his offer. He’ll do all he can to help as long as it doesn’t involve dragging his mate further into this.

I would do the same. Sinclair and my brothers will always come first.

“She can’t just be gone. She can’t .” Ecker is spiraling and quickly. “This can’t be happening again.”

Titus catches it too. He gestures to me and Noah. “Okay, you two head back to our wing, and the rest of us will split up and search the Estate.”

We all nod in agreement, but when I turn to leave, Ecker grabs my arm. “You’re just gonna sit on your ass and wait? We all need to be out there looking for her.”

Defensiveness sparks in my chest. It’s quick to ignite with all the stress and I wrench him off me. Insult has me forcing his wrist farther back than necessary to simply remove his hand, and he fights a grimace, seething through the pain.

“Do not ever question my commitment to our mate.” My words tumble like rocks from my twisted throat. “Someone should be there if she comes back, and if Titus decides that person is me, then so be it.”

He pulls his hand away and scoffs. “Whatever, I’m not wasting time arguing about this.”

Then he storms away.

It feels wrong to be playing Mario Kart while everyone else is out there searching.

Noah brought his laptop and controllers with him, and I figured the distraction wouldn’t hurt while we waited. It doesn’t change the fact that one of us should be here if— when— she comes back.

Every slight sound and creak has my eyes jumping to the door. My heart is going to bruise from all the times it’s jumped into my throat.

I fight the urge to look the next time I think I hear something outside in the hall. But then the doorknob jiggles and I leap to my feet, not caring that the controller falls haphazardly from my hand.

My heart rams against my ribcage as the door opens and I immediately see Sinclair’s shock of silver hair.

“ Fuck ,” I exhale in relief and step toward her. I freeze as her full body comes into view and I see the red, swollen marks on her face and the purpling bruises shaped like fingers around her biceps.

“Noah,” she says calmly. “You should go now.”

My feet can’t seem to move. It’s her, but it’s also not her. And it’s not just the bruises and swelling making her look different. She feels different. Or rather, I can’t feel her at all.

I was sure the bond connecting us would return when I saw her again, but the more I look at her, the less I’m certain. It almost feels like an impostor is standing in front of me.

Could this be another Echelon trick?

As Noah gathers his things, I ask, “What happened?”

She ignores my question. “Where’s Ecker and Titus?”

“Out looking for you.” Our exchange is mechanical and superficial.

“Call them. Tell them to come back, and I’ll explain it to all of you.”

Ecker bounces up from the armchair for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s been unable to sit still for more than thirty seconds. His nervous, wired energy has not settled at all since Sinclair returned.

He shakes his head and throws his hands in the air. “I still don’t understand why you didn’t come to us right away.” Aggravation and hurt lace his tone.

Sinclair sighs. I can tell she’s trying to be patient, having gone over everything several times now. “I thought you knew where I was. And Paisley made it sound like you guys wouldn’t even want to be around me.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t her decision to make. And she’s a backstabbing cunt—”

“Hey!” she shouts at him, standing up. “It wasn’t her fault, and she was honest—”

“Hardly,” he scoffs.

“She was honest when it mattered. And we’re all in this fucked-up shit together, so get off your high horse.” She falls back onto the couch and crosses her arms. The little patience she had left is apparently gone by the dirty look she gives Ecker.

Titus waves his arms in a calming motion. “Maybe we should all just go to bed. In our own rooms.”

“I’m not tired,” Ecker and Sinclair say in tandem, then throw each other annoyed scowls.

Ecker rolls his eyes and adds with a fake chipper tone, “Maybe we should break down the Cyans’ door and kill them in their sleep.”

“No,” Titus says without hesitation. “We’re not making any moves while you’re like this. You’re too worked up.” Ecker tries to say something, but Titus cuts him off. “They will get what’s coming, but we have to be smart.”

“I am so sick of this place,” Ecker yells. “And I’m sick of you and I’m sick of you and I’m sick of—” he spits while pointing at Titus, then me, but can’t finish his sentence when he gets to Sinclair. 1

He releases one more incensed growl while storming to his room and slams the door behind him.

Fed up and tired, as if having spent the day herding toddlers, Titus groans and rubs his hand over his face. “I’m going to bed too. It’s been a fucking night.”

Then he closes himself in his bedroom.

Sinclair and I sit next to each other quietly on the couch. She looks down at her hands in her lap, picking her nails. I let my knee fall to the side to lightly bump against her thigh in a testing brush.

There are no sparks or crackling of electricity like I’m used to, but there are small fluttering sensations deep in my stomach.

“You’re not tired?” I ask almost awkwardly.

She still has an unsure look on her face but shakes her head. So I stand up and grab a quilt off the back of the couch.

“Come with me. I have an idea.” I offer my hand, and she hesitantly slides hers into mine, a bit of hope beginning to replace the doubt on her face.

When I pull her to her feet, she looks me in the eyes, and something flips in my stomach again.

I may not feel our bond, but I sure as fuck feel these butterflies.

1. Play “Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone through next chapter