Chapter Thirty-Eight

Kane

She still smells like me. Not that it’s much consolation.

We walk through the night, Willow stiff in my arms. Neither of us dare to acknowledge each other apart from the way our bodies interlock.

By dawn, we’ve reached the river. It’s cold as fuck, the wind rising off a thin sheen of ice, but at least it’ll be harder for anyone to catch our scent.

“We can’t stay,” Silas says as I rest Willow down. “The sentinels will follow the river north.”

Telling him about Pack Hoffran—how Lachlan is probably in Northside right now, selling us out—was Willow’s idea. Another stupid one.

“Makes things easier for you, doesn’t it?” I return. “You and your squadmates will be reunited in no time.”

“How many times do I have to explain this? I’m not a sentinel.” At mine and Willow’s sharp look, he huffs. “Not anymore.”

I turn my gaze to Willow. You’re not seriously buying this crap, are you?

Sighing, she says, “Sentinels don’t desert, and they definitely don’t desert during an assignment.” Her brow quirks. “That assignment being me . Correct?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then I can’t trust a single word you say. Imprinted or not.” Her voice wavers, and I wonder if the word causes her half as much pain as it causes me.

“Glad that’s cleared up,” I butt in. “You don’t trust him, I sure as hell don’t trust him, so why is he still here?”

“Because I can’t defend myself while fighting off imprinting sickness. The cure for which, regrettably …” her face darkens, “is him.”

“What do you think I’m here for, omega?”

Her returning glare is like a stab in the heart. “I’ll be sick. In pain.”

“And I’ll take care of you. ”

Silas folds his arms. “She’ll die.”

“Yeah.” I bristle. "Heard that one before.”

“You really think I was bluffing?”

“I think you saw a chance to invade my territory, fuck my omega, and you fucking took it!”

Maybe Willow thinks I’m about to start swinging, and maybe I am, because she puts herself between us. Those bright green eyes flash with fury.

“I’m not yours,” she snarls. “Not if it’s going to be like this. That’s the whole point.” Her pheromones sour. “Or maybe you’d forgotten.”

With those words, the last month comes flooding back. Willow crying out in her sleep. Shaking so hard I was sure she’d break apart. Choosing to trust me, despite that. Despite everything.

“Willow,” Silas speaks up, his voice so soft it makes me want to hurl, “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, or why you ran away, but I promise you, I would never—”

“Stop it,” she cuts him off. “Just … stop.”

She steps away, raking her hands through her hair. Neither me or Silas say anything. Not because we’re smart enough to bite our tongues, but because right now, we’re equally fucking clueless.

Finally, she says, “If you two are gonna fight, go ahead and fight. We’re heading out first thing tomorrow.”

It takes every fiber of my being not to snatch her wrist and stop her from stalking away from me. Fighting Silas is no use if she’s not here to see how much stronger I am. How much better I can be.

I growl, “Where’re you going?”

She keeps walking. “Not far.”

Now it’s Silas’s turn to panic. I grab his cloak before he can follow, making him snap around. “It’s not safe!”

“Safe enough. For now.”

He falters. “It’s … cold.”

Now there’s a compelling argument. Willow is near freezing even when she’s with me, never mind when she’s on her own.

I chuff, dispelling my own alpha’s paranoia. “She’s not a pup. And I’m willing to bet she knows these wilds better than you.”

A couple seconds later, Willow disappears up ahead, slipping behind an old, broad oak. She’s too far to overhear us, but close enough that we’d hear if she called. Clever bunny . Knows her own limits, and how far she can push them.

“This is ridiculous,” Silas mutters. “She needs me.”

“Really? You never mentioned.”

He glowers. “Don’t make light of this, rogue.”

I roll my eyes, crouching by the riverbank to punch a hole in the ice. The water is bitterly cold, turning my throat numb as I drink. I can feel Silas’s judgement, his disdain, like he’s watching a wild animal.

“Twenty-four hours is pushing it,” he mutters. “Even if the sentinels don’t catch up to us, they’ll catch our scent.”

“Let’s say they do.” I stand. “What are you gonna do about it?”

He must sense the challenge, his chest puffing up. “I’ll take care of my omega.”

“The same omega you were gonna drag back to Southside?”

He pinches his brow. “I’m not explaining this again.”

“You didn’t explain it the first time,” I scoff. “You say you’re a deserter. Will says the sentinels don’t have deserters.” I shrug. “She doesn’t trust you, and I’m not gonna be the idiot who tells her otherwise.”

“She trusts me enough to let me stick around.”

My blood boils. If this asshole’s not careful, he’s going to get that fistfight after all. “For now.”

I have to keep my hands busy. If I’m not gathering wood, or clearing the campsite, or whittling down a fishing spear, I won’t be able to keep my alpha’s impulses at bay. He grumbles at me to toss Silas into the river— See how easy it is for him to bite my omega with his teeth chattering.

Over several hours, I only see Willow move once, probably to relieve herself. Otherwise, she doesn’t acknowledge we’re still there and, as much as it kills me, we do the same.

I’m not yours. Not like this.

I knew what she meant, and I hated myself for it. But much more than that … I hated the idea that maybe, just maybe, she’s wasn’t mine at all.

And that maybe she never was.