Chapter Thirty

Kane

Willow is a quick study. I teach her how to tread lightly, how to keep her eyes peeled, and she doesn’t need to be told again. It makes hunting easier, but slower.

She asks where we’re going, and every time, I give her the same answer:

“Over the mountain.”

If Willow came from the big village back south, I’m taking her as close as we can get to the bigger village up north. I’m no expert in politics, but I’m not a total moron: the feud between territories is legendary.

Pack Shire will find no allies where we’re going.

Willow pinches my shoulder. I stop, following her gaze.

There, at the base of a tree, two squirrels assess the fallen acorns. I retrieve my dagger, wondering how best to nab them both. Slowly, Willow passes me her own blade—a blunt cooking knife.

Yeah. I can make this work.

A weapon in either hand, I creep toward the squirrels. It’s as if the entire forest holds its breath.

And I throw, hitting both marks in an instant.

Willow cheers. My alpha puffs up with pride.

We stop for lunch, Willow warming herself by the fire while we prepare the meat for roasting. I try not to stare at her too closely, transfixed by the adorable crease in her brow as she concentrates.

“So,” she says as we eat, “we’re almost there, aren’t we?”

I swallow. “Almost where?”

“You know. Over the mountain .”

I go back to eating. “Another day or so.”

“And then …?”

I eye her cautiously. “We stay there.”

Willow sighs. “I’m not stupid, Kane. I know you’re taking me to Northside.” She shrugs. “It’s smart—the sentinels won’t come charging in to enemy territory. When I left my village, I considered doing the same thing, except it was too far to travel alone.”

“And now you’ve got me.” I nod at her skewer. “Keep eating.”

“Kane.” Her voice softens. “We don’t have to go through with this.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She gestures around. “I appreciate all you’re doing for me. But I also don’t expect you to give up your way of life.” Her gaze deepens. “You left your own village for a reason.”

Is she really worried about me right now? That I might not be cut out for, what? Civilization?

“We’re not going to Northside,” I tell her at last. “We’re going near Northside.”

She tilts her head.

I huff. “If anyone comes looking for you, we’ll disappear into the village. Until then, we’re still just a couple of rogues.” I smirk. “You got a problem with that?”

“My problem is you giving up your freedom.”

I growl, “Freedom is a small price to pay for keeping you safe.”

To this Willow goes quiet. She holds my look until colour pricks her cheeks, then stares down at her half-eaten skewer.

Scent her, my inner alpha demands. Now.

I pull her hand into my lap, rubbing myself up and down her wrist. She smells off—sick, or stressed, or tired, or something else I don’t fucking like.

She breathes deeply. “That’s nice.”

I keep nuzzling until she’s drenched in my pheromones. “Here.” I rip off a chunk of meat. “Eat.”

“Alpha …”

“Uh-uh,” I grunt. “No getting out of this.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t care.”

“No, I—” she hangs her head. “I mean, I feel sick. Do we have any water?”

Frowning, I rummage around, pulling out the half-empty canister. She takes a couple sips, looking paler by the second. When did this happen ? my alpha demands. Omega was fine this morning!

“Sorry.” She swallows. “Maybe it was the meat.”

I lift her skewer. “Smells fine to me.”

“Keep mine in here.” She passes me a clean cloth. “I’ll try again later.”

Reluctantly, I do as she asks. My alpha is not happy about how little she’s eaten—she’ll need her strength. But worse than that would be her getting sick.

The fire dies out, and Willow assures me her stomach has settled. I give her a final, determined scenting before we take off again, working our way down from the mountain’s peak.

***

It’s late when we finally settle. I wanted to find some shelter, but I remember there used to be a rogue camp in this region, and I can’t risk trespassing.

“I’ll take first watch,” Willow declares.

Like hell . I lie her flat in my lap. “Sleep,” I command.

“You need to sleep, too.”

“I’ll wake you up.”

I cover her in my cloak, plus a couple bedsheets, willing warmth into her bones. No matter how much I stroke her back, trying to keep her blood pumping, she won’t stop shivering.

“Omega,” I say at last, “you feel sick again?”

She doesn’t answer, already out cold. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s a big ask, making an omega trek through the wintry wilds right after her heat.

Just one more day. I can protect her one more day. Then we’ll be setting up a proper den. Warm walls. Fresh water. Everything she could ever want—I’ll give it to her.

Even if it means living in a village.

Not once do I start to doze off, busy scenting her, trying to keep those sickly pheromones at bay. She twitches. Whimpers softly.

I freeze. “Omega?”

She’s still asleep. Dreaming, somewhere far away.

Where my voice can’t reach her.