Chapter Thirty-Three

Silas

A bit of wood catches my thumb. I grit my teeth and hold on tighter, determined to finish building.

New sentinels are required to undergo extensive wilderness survival training. I remember I passed the course with flying colors, but don’t remember using those skills much since.

This small animal trap, my fifth attempt, will have to suffice. I position it just right and throw some leaves around, dispelling my scent.

Now, back to what really matters.

The rocky mound I’ve claimed for shelter is a couple hundred yards away from the cave system where Willow and Kane disappeared three days ago.

I haven’t heard, seen, or scented them in days.

My inner alpha is like a beast in a cage. What are they still doing here? he demands. They can’t be planning to settle. This territory is already claimed—and judging by the grumbling alphas I’ve seen coming in and out to hunt, they’re not too happy about the intrusion.

At first, I wondered if they'd decided to join ranks with this rogue pack. But no. Kane has too much pride for that. Then it occurred to me.

Willow is my imprint mate. There’s no other explanation for the way I’m feeling—weak, disoriented, overwhelmed by my alpha. And if that’s how I’m feeling …

What’s it doing to her?

She needs you, my alpha groans. Go to her.

Getting past Kane is one thing. Doable, though not without upsetting our omega. But getting past two others? Maybe more? We’re entering risky territory, and possibly endangering Willow in the process.

They can’t hide forever. The next time they come out, I’ll be ready.

I’m finally going to claim what’s mine.

***

I must have fallen asleep watching the caves, because when I wake up, my chin is hanging against my chest.

Morning dawns over the trees. I rub my arms until the blood starts circulating, half-frozen from sleeping out in the open. Then I look down, noticing one area where my blood has been working just fine.

Christ . I must’ve dreamt about her. Again.

Sighing, I palm myself down. I don’t sense any movement in the caves, and besides, I have an animal trap to check. I follow my tracks, feeling even groggier than I did yesterday.

Thank god.

I don’t know what I’ve caught, exactly—maybe an opossum?—but I’ll take it. I need all the strength I can get.

As I’m carrying the dead creature back to camp, something catches my eye. I frown, moving closer, until I'm standing over an odd, leathery lump buried in the frost.

Is that … a water canister?

I crouch down, excavating it from the brittle soil. It has a soft, brown-leather body, like a deflated carcass. Screw cap. I don’t just recognize the object. I recognize the design .

It’s the exact same as mine.

My heart pounding, I carry the canister back to my campsite to compare the two. Just as I thought—a perfect match. Except, my canister came with the rest of my pack. Just like everything else I’m carrying, it’s standard issue.

For a sentinel.

What the hell is another Southside sentinel doing this far north? Or, what were they doing? Judging by the state of this thing, it’s been sitting on the forest floor for weeks. Maybe months.

I think back on my last conversation with the commander. I wasn’t especially invested at the time, so it’s hard to pick out details.

“ New mother … disappeared. Family’s beside themselves. Insist she’s been kidnapped. ”

It strikes me then—where we are. This might be rogue territory, but it’s right near the outskirts of, well …

Northside.

It was a ridiculous theory. Why would Northsiders kidnap one noble-born omega from Southside? But if Pack Shire insisted, there’s no telling what the commander might’ve done to appease them.

Like sending a squadron up north to investigate.

That must be why he sought me out two whole months after her disappearance. Pack Shire breathing down his neck. His other options exhausted.

All signs suggest the sentinels are long gone. That should come as a comfort, and yet, my alpha remains unsettled.

I start a fire, hoping to cook my kill before anyone notices the smoke. The meat tastes bland and bloody, even with a dash of salt from my dwindling supplies, but it steadies me enough to stay on high alert.

What’re you doing in there ? I beam a psychic message to Willow. Are you safe?

I’m still clearing up when there’s movement from the caves. Two alphas I recognize—Skinny and Red-Head—stand outside the main entrance, glaring out.

That’s when I hear it. Rustling leaves. Something sharp slicing through the air.

I jump to my feet, coming face-to-face with the pointy end of a wooden spear. The alpha holding it is tall, hulking, with a thick, dark beard. Maybe ten years my senior. He smells of earth and pine.

His lips quirk. “Morning, son.”

Slowly, I put my hands up. “Back at you.”

His gaze flicks to my campsite. “What are you, then? A thief, or a pervert?”

“Just passing through.”

There’s something like amusement in his eyes, but those stark, warning pheromones are no joke.

Finally, he lowers his spear. “Whatever you’re after, you won’t find it here. We live off the wilds. And my mate—” his lip curls, “is off limits.”

“Can I assume you’re referring to one of those lovely gentlemen?” I risk a smile, gesturing toward Skinny and Red-Head, who are still posted outside the cave.

The alpha grunts. “Should’ve guessed you were a villager.”

Villager. Like it’s an accusation.

I shrug. “Your pack, your business.” Though I don’t like the idea of Willow being outnumbered by four alphas.

“My pack’s business is our omega,” he rumbles, “and our territory. Find somewhere else to play rogue.”

I relax, if only slightly. “I don’t mean any trouble.” I indicate to the water canisters at my feet. “Though I am curious. I’m not the first visitor you’ve had this season, am I?”

His weathered face is blank, betraying nothing.

“I have no interest in your pack,” I assure him. “I’m simply curious as to what business a Southside sentinel had on your lands.”

The alpha quirks a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

He’s astute. I’ll give him that.

I deliberate whether I should ask about Willow and Kane. My inner alpha snaps at me to pin him down and wrestle the information out, but he doesn’t strike me as the kind of alpha who responds well to violence.

To my surprise, he confesses, “Sentinels came. Whole squadron of ’em.”

I frown. “You don’t say.”

“Mm-hm. Then they left.”

“Did they say what they wanted?”

“You really think I gave a shit what they wanted?”

No, I highly doubt he did. But I don’t like that he’s not giving me a straight answer.

Suddenly he chuffs, like he senses my unease. “You got a name, sentinel?”

If I tell him my name, he may very well share that information with his pack, who may very well share it with Kane and Willow. I’m not ready to sacrifice my position just yet.

“Pierson,” I say at last. “And yours?”

He rolls his shoulders. “Hoffran.”

“Well, despite what you think, Hoffran, I’m not a sentinel.”

He grunts. “Could’ve fooled me.”

With that, and a final warning to be off his territory by nightfall, he takes off. I watch him as far as I can, mapping out the route he must’ve taken to sneak up on me.

Wondering, if I followed him back, whether Willow would be pleased to see me.