Chapter Forty-Three

Silas

A branch snaps. The ground thunders.

Sentinels. Six of them, like Kane said.

I steady myself against a tree, only half-acting. Kane hit me so hard my brain still feels loose in my skull. My mouth tastes metallic, my jaw puffy.

Convincing, indeed.

The sentinels find me like that, leaning over, spitting blood. I glance up, scanning their faces.

They’re almost identical. All with cropped hair, similar to mine. All lean, but defined, their bodies honed for long expeditions. They’re not in uniform, missing Southside’s burgundy colors and insignia, which makes sense, considering where they came from.

Four males. Two females. All armed, of course.

“Chief,” one of the males, already at the front, steps forward. Must be the squadron leader.

The title pierces me like a dagger. “Sentinel,” I return. Do we know each other ? I don’t recognize him, though I suppose it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he recognizes me.

“I’m glad we found you,” he says. His eyes flick to the female who I assume is his second lieutenant. “We received word of your disappearance weeks ago.”

“Word?” I feign confusion.

The sentinels exchange cautious looks. Finally, their leader announces, “We’ve been stationed in Northside.”

“Undercover,” someone adds, proudly.

I pretend to look impressed. Without any way of knowing what they’ve been told—that I was dead, or missing, or a filthy, cowardly deserter—I have to play my cards very, very carefully.

“I imagine we’ve been tasked with the same assignment.” I smile wryly, pinching my busted jaw. “Though I hope you have more success than me.”

“Willow Shire?” the squadron leader asks, somewhat dubiously.

I hate the way her name sounds in his mouth, as if he has any right to it. I squash my inner alpha down before answering.

“I’ve been tracking her for nearly two months. Something—some one— keeps getting in my way.”

The second lieutenant indicates to my face. “They give you that?”

I shrug. “What can I say? These rogues are a different breed.”

“Rogue?” Another alpha, the second female, ventures forward. Her eyes flick to the leader, who nods, letting her approach. She scans me up and down, her sharp nose wrinkling. “That explains the stench.”

Should’ve guessed they’d pick up on Kane’s scent. As long as it’s strong enough to overpower Willow, I’ll consider myself lucky.

“We received a tip,” the leader says. “Rogue pack claimed they’d spotted a red-headed omega in the local cave system.”

“And that she had an alpha with her,” the second puts in.

I rub the back of my head. “Your tip was right. I chased them out. Tried to fight the alpha off.” I sigh. “Unsuccessfully.”

Already I can scent their suspicion. Either I’m a worse liar than I thought, or my reputation precedes me: one of the strongest sentinels to come through Southside’s barracks, both hand-to-hand and melee ability second to none. Even now, I can see some eyes flicking to the blade at my hilt—still sheathed.

I press on, “Pretty sure I saw the two of them heading west. We might catch them, if we hurry.” I smirk. “A single rogue is child’s play to an entire Southside squadron.”

No-one moves, apart from their sideways glances and twitching fingers, waiting for orders. The second female stares daggers into me.

“Leader,” she says, “if I may.”

The squadron leader frowns. “What is it, Vera?”

“Chief Silas’s scent.” She tilts her head at me. “It’s not just the rogue. It’s the omega, too.” She sneers. “She’s all over you. Sir.”

I freeze. So much for Kane’s noxious stench .

Vera’s words seem to confirm what the others already suspect. It takes more than a random, untrained rogue to disarm the sentinels’ chief of recruitment. I didn’t even think to bloody my knuckles or dirty my sword. My cover is unravelling by the second.

“Of course she is,” I argue. “I’ve been tracking her for months. Getting close.”

Vera scoffs. “Close enough to knot?”

“Vera,” the leader warns.

“She already dirtied herself with a rogue,” she drawls, her glare tightening, testing me. “What’s another knot to a whore?”

“ Vera ,” the leader snaps.

A growl escapes me, possessive rage leaking from my pheromones. Before I can stop myself, my hand goes to my sword, devising the quickest way to shut this wretched alpha up.

Quick cut to the throat ought to do it.

“Chief!” the squadron leader says, grabbing his own sword. His sentinels follow suit, moving into formation.

“He’s not our chief.” Vera’s lip curls. “Any more than that red-headed bitch is a noble.”

“You watch your tongue,” I snarl, flashing my blade.

Vera’s eyes flicker. She feigns a smile.

“It’s just like the commander said,” she announces. “He’s a deserter.”

The entire squadron holds their breath like they’re expecting me to strike her down. Defend my honor.

“Call me what you like,” I answer, loud enough for all of them to hear. I point my sword, barely a hair’s width from Vera’s neck. “I will cut you down all the same.”

Terror spikes in the sentinels’ collective scent. “Chief,” the leader starts, then corrects himself, “ Silas . What is this madness? You would relinquish your rank for a runaway?”

“Where is your honor?” his second lieutenant snarls.

“My honor—” I gesture my blade across the entire squadron, “is far safer in that runaway’s hands than it ever was with the sentinels.”

“Traitor,” Vera spits.

“Precisely.” I turn to her once more, allowing myself a grim smile. “Because I will see Southside burn before I see Willow returned.”

Maybe I could’ve salvaged this. Begged for mercy, for freedom. But now? With my sword threatening those who were once my comrades, and my words threatening all they stand to protect, I’ve basically signed my own death sentence.

The leader gives me one final warning. Either I come quietly, and face my crimes before a proper tribunal, or I die where I stand.

I grip my sword.

The leader darkens. “Death it is.”

Vera flings a dagger. I swat it away, giving two more alphas an opening. They charge, swords first. With a single swipe, I brush them aside, their blades clanging against one another.

Vera comes at me again, quicker than her comrades. Her sword slams into mine, locked vertically.

I cluck my tongue. “Sloppy.”

With a short kick, I knock her off balance, disarming her as she attempts to steady herself. Her weapon feels light in my spare hand, fashioned for a smaller alpha.

At last, the squadron leader sends his second lieutenant into battle. She’s got to be the strongest of the bunch, throwing her impressive bulk into every swing. I deflect using both swords, my teeth rattling upon impact.

Suddenly I’m being attacked on all sides. I cast off the weaker attempts, not bothering to retaliate, focusing my energy on one key player.

Their leader.

He’s a balanced fighter, I’ll give him that much. Pulling back and thrusting in like the ocean’s tide, and similarly unpredictable. I study his blocks. His jabs. His timing. It takes a few turns, and a few painful blows from his sentinels, before I figure him out.

Left foot shifts. Eyes flick behind my head. In that split second before he strikes, I have my opening.

I don’t swipe, but pierce—slamming my blade straight through his shoulder.

Everyone stops. Someone cries out.

Finally, agonizingly, I draw the blade out. “It’s just a flesh wound.” I wipe the blood off on my arm. “He’ll live, if you get him back to Southside.”

The squadron shoots me hateful looks. Vera stands, recovering her fallen dagger.

“Stop,” their second lieutenant barks. She watches me closely. After a pained, furious beat, she says, “Retreat.”

“Lieutenant!” one of the males argues.

“If he kills us,” she snaps, “who will tell the commander what we’ve learned today?”

I sheath my sword. “You mean, who will sign my death warrant?”

Someone chuffs defiantly. I’ll take that as a yes .

Still standing over the fallen leader, I nod to his bleeding shoulder. “Keep pressure on that. Can’t having you bleeding out on the way home.”

The leader glowers. “All this for what?” he rasps. “Five more minutes with a runaway? It’s only a matter of time before we find you. Again. ”

“I didn’t do it for her.” Only as I’m speaking the words do I realize they’re true. Defending Willow’s honor, cutting the sentinels down to size—yes, that was all her. But relinquishing my title, and everything I stood for?

“I did it for Delphine,” I tell them. “And her pup.”

The name sinks through me. I’ve barely let myself think it, let alone say it aloud, since she died. Convinced myself her name, her legacy, was a privilege. One I couldn’t earn until her killers were brought to justice.

The truth is … I ran from it, from her, just like I ran from everything else.

And I’m not running anymore.

I toss Vera’s sword across the clearing. “If you try to follow me, or my mate—” A growl enters my voice. “I won’t be so lenient.”

I’ve already turned my back when one of the male alphas dares to ask, “Mate?”

Damn . Not sure I meant to say that part aloud.

I shoot them a final glare over my shoulder. “You’ve been warned.”

A couple of the alphas hiss in protest, trying to rally their second lieutenant’s bloodlust. But even with my back turned, there’s nothing they can do to surprise me. No attack I can’t predict. No taunt I can’t quash.

I know the sentinels, more than they know themselves.

No-one charges me as I disappear further into the trees, moving west—throwing them off Kane and Willow’s path. Once I’m well and truly out of view, I’ll circle around to the north.

It won’t be easy, crossing into enemy territory. If my run-in with the sentinels has taught me anything, it’s that I can’t lie to save myself. Any similar attempts with the Northside guard is going to get me locked up, or killed.

Where does that leave me?

It’s my alpha who answers, like it should be obvious. Where else ?

I pick up the pace. If I want to make it to my omega by dawn, I’ll need to move quickly. There’s a lot to get done, and only a few hours of night left to do it. Assuming Northside’s guards are as efficient as I hope they are, and half as logical … we might actually stand a chance.

I’m coming for you, omega, my alpha sings out to her. I know what I have to do.