Chapter Forty-Two

Kane

There’s only so far my mate can run, even on borrowed strength. The second I hear her wheezing, I scoop her up in my arms, barely skipping a beat before we’re running again. I can feel her fear course through me, her distress like a toxin. Like something eating me from the inside out.

Is this how she feels all the time? Knowing her imprint mate is out there, so close, yet always out of reach?

It’s dark when we reach the village. Hovering among the trees, I scan the gates for those guards Silas warned us about.

Sure enough, right by the main entrance, two alphas stand watch, illuminated by standing torchlights. Both armed with short swords.

“Put me down,” Willow whispers.

I clutch her tighter.

“Kane,” she says, “it’s okay.”

Slowly, I do as she says. She grips my arm to steady herself, but seems otherwise stable.

“You need a shirt,” she says. “I’d offer to give your cloak back, but …” she lifts the hood, hiding her hair.

I scoff. “You really think they’re gonna give a damn if I’m wearing shirt?”

She considers. “You’re right. They’ll already guess you’re a rogue. But that doesn’t mean they’ll want you around.”

“Rogues are neutral. I can go where I please.”

“Just … let me think.”

I stay quiet, trying not to let my frustration cloud the bond. Mate is smart, my alpha reminds me. If she has a plan in mind, I’d be wise to listen.

“Okay,” she says at last. Her emerald eyes flicker against the torchlight, setting the bond alight. “Here’s what we’re gonna do.”

***

Willow’s heart is beating so hard, I’m not sure I can distinguish it from mine. She’s pressed against me, cradled tight in my arms, as we venture toward the village gates.

The guards bristle—one male, one female. “State you name,” the female says.

“Be polite, ” Willow’s voice rings in my head. “ But genuine.”

I halt. “Kane.”

The male guard scowls. “And purpose?”

I look down at Willow, who stares up at me from under the hood, her eyes wide. “Shelter,” I grit out.

The guards’ attention flicks to Willow. The female inches closer, making me bristle. “Your mate?” she asks.

I nod.

They share a look. The male notes, “You’re rogues.”

I clench my jaw. “Yes.”

“Then what do you need us for?” The female sneers. “Plenty of wilds out there.”

This is exactly what Willow warned me about. What she prepared me for. I take a breath, holding her closer.

“She’s pregnant,” I say. “Just want to keep her warm.”

At once, the guards stop, their pheromones lifting. They regard Willow with renewed interest. She tucks her face into my neck, her nose brushing the bite, making my whole body tingle.

“She’s freezing,” I growl, only half-acting now. “Another night out in the wilds, she’ll catch her death.” I straighten. “Her and the pup.”

The guards share another look. But I already know, the hard part is over.

They let us pass, grunting something about cheap taverns in the village center. I remember my manners at the last minute, nodding in thanks as I carry Willow inside.

She waits until we’re out of the guards’ earshot before smirking up at me. “Well done.”

“How’d you know?” I grunt. “The whole pup thing—they folded instantly.”

“An omega’s whole purpose is to birth pups. Preferably, alpha pups.” She shrugs. “I just made myself as valuable as possible.”

I should be happy—she was right, after all—but the idea that my mate’s entire worth hinges on whether or not she can feed pups into some shitty village system makes me sick to the fucking stomach.

Willow frowns. “Alpha,” she says, softly. “It’s okay. We’re in.”

“We’re not staying,” I growl.

“Yes we are. At least, until Silas shows up.”

Biting back my anger, I carry her deeper through Northside’s gates. More torches are scattered around, lighting up the night. It’s warmer than I expected; stout, clustered buildings insulating the main strip. I hate how the cobblestones feel beneath my boots. I can’t remember how long it’s been since I walked anything that wasn’t pure earth.

A couple dozen people roam the street, stumbling in and out of taverns. Their laughter carries up to the thatched roofs. They reek of smoke and sulfur, polluting the crisp night air.

“You’re scowling,” Willow notes.

I just grunt.

She sighs. “I don’t need the bond to know you hate it here.”

“Am I supposed to like it?”

“Of course not.” She scans the crowd. The glowing street. “Just try not to draw attention. Drunk alphas love to pick a fight.”

That much, I remember from my own village experience. Picking fights with drunk alphas was a good way to earn coin, assuming they were stupid enough to place bets.

Speaking of …

“We gotta sell some of Silas’s shit,” I mutter, indicating to his bag, tucked under the cloak. “Get some coin together.”

“We’re not selling anything from that bag,” Willow returns. “Don’t you remember? If any of the guards catch us with Southside’s insignia—”

“What’s the alternative?”

Further down the street, a glass bottle smashes, eliciting a chorus of slurred cheers. I growl, pressing Willow as close to me as possible.

“We go a little further,” Willow says at last. “Get to the village center, and find an alleyway to lay low until dawn.”

I chuff. “You really think Silas is gonna find us that fast?”

“He promised.” Her voice hardens, the bond taut with meaning. “ I promised.”

A part of me thought it’d be easier to argue with Willow once we were bonded—no more guessing what she’s feeling. But if anything, it’s harder. I can’t say no to her.

We walk on until, thankfully, the crowd thins out. Most of the buildings down here are closed for business, plus an assortment of empty stalls. This must be where the merchants and farmers set up shop.

Willow looks around. “Okay. I think we’re in the clear.”

I double-check there are no eyes on us before slipping between two boarded-up shopfronts. It’s narrow as hell, with big, bolted crates clogging the path, but at least it’s covered.

“Wait.” Willow pushes herself out of my arms. Before I realize what she’s doing, she produces a blade from her dress and draws a straight line down her palm.

“Will!” I hiss.

She puts her hand flat against the left shopfront, blood seeping into the bricks.

“Are you crazy?” I snap. “Your scent—”

“Will lead Silas straight to us.” She wipes the blade clean.

I snatch her wrist, growling when I see the blood still flowing.

“It’s okay,” she says. “Doesn’t hurt.”

Snarling, I rip open Silas’s bag. Proper sentinels—ex-sentinels, whatever—must carry some thing for first aid.

“It’s just a cut,” Willow keeps assuring me. Not even her soft pulses down the bond calm me down.

Finally, I find the water canister, plus some clean cloth. I wash her down and wrap her palm up tight.

“You pull anything like that again,” I warn, “and I won’t be so nice.”

“Nice.” She quirks a brow. “All you’ve done is curse and glare.”

“Exactly.”

To my surprise, she smiles. “Duly noted, alpha.”

We don’t have any sleeping mats or blankets, which wasn’t a problem when we were living off the land. But now we’re in a hard, cramped, stinking alley, I need to get creative if I want to make my mate comfortable. She insists she’s going to stay awake with me, or at the very least take turns—neither of us have slept in nearly thirty-six hours.

“Need you to rest.” I tuck a hand under her hood, ghosting over my bite. “Want this healed by morning.”

She scowls. “What about yours?”

I tilt my neck, revealing the rapidly scarring wound.

Finally, I convince her to remove the cloak—draping it over the cobblestones so she has a place to lie down. She hesitates, twirling her hair.

“Trust me,” I murmur. “No-one’s gonna see you. Not while I’m here.”

She nods, gently, her trust both a given and a privilege.

Despite where we are, and the fact I have no idea where we’re going next, my inner alpha preens as Willow’s eyes flutter closed. No matter what, there is one thing I do know. Omega is mine.

And I will protect her to my dying breath.