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“Be nice. You try finding decent hiking boots in size 13,” Camden says. “Did she take anything else?”
“My jacket,” I say. “Memphis, did you leave your pack outside?”
He groans. He knows that means she probably cleaned him out, too.
“Guess you’ll have to track her, then.”
“We better move fast,” Memphis growls. “If the rain starts, picking up her scent or any markers will get ten times harder.”
The three of us pack up camp fast. I want to leave Cam’s ruined tent, since it’s just useless weight now, but he and Memphis both hate the idea of littering.
Memphis leads the way through the woods. She headed southeast, he tells us. He keeps pointing out footprints and markers that look practically invisible to me. Even though I’ll still be watching him around Brooklyn, I’m grateful we’ve got him on our team. Camden and I would have to rely on our sense of scent alone, which would take way longer.
Once we’re making decent time, Camden throws out the question we’ve all been wondering. “Why did she leave? It seemed like she understood that we wanted to help her. At least, she acted like she trusted me.”
“Maybe she was scared,” I offer, shrugging. “She’s been out here a long time. Maybe she’s not totally with it. Isolation can do that to you.”
“No,” Memphis says firmly. “She’s smart. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
He can’t see me rolling my eyes. He’s spent all of twenty minutes with the Omega and he’s already defending her like she’s his girlfriend. More proof that his biology is working overtime.
“I’m not saying she’s dumb,” I tell him. “Just that she might not understand that we came here to rescue her. It’s been a while since she actually talked to a person, and we might not have done the best job explaining. Plus, she’s an unbonded Omega. She might not trust unfamiliar Alphas.”
“So we show her we don’t mean her any harm,” Camden says thoughtfully. “Make sure she gets that we just want to bring her home. Then she’ll stop running.”
I hope he’s right. Cam’s better at communicating with her than Memphis and me. If he explains it, hopefully he can get through to her.
It’s got to be a misunderstanding. Otherwise, why would she run away right when we rescued her?
Unless…she doesn’t want to go home.
TEN
—
B R O O K L Y N
It only takes me a few hours to get back to my shelter, which is a problem. I’m closer to the Alphas’ campsite than I’d like. Even now, they could be tracking me here. I have to quickly gather all the supplies I’ll need, then run fast in the opposite direction.
Normally, returning to my territory fills me with a sense of calm. Now, not even the trees and stones I know so well can steady me. This might be the last time I’m here—once the Alphas find it, it won’t be safe anymore.
I go right inside and throw Camden’s pack on my bed. It’s bigger and sturdier than any bag I’ve got in the shelter, plus it doesn’t carry as much of my scent.
My heart aches at the thought of leaving my shelter. It’s been my sanctuary for so many months, the place where I can retreat and feel fully safe. My hand drifts to one of my birch bark paintings. I’ve made this place my own.
But I can’t risk staying here. My scent is everywhere—it’s practically a homing beacon for the Alphas. There’s no time to be nostalgic about what I’ll leave behind.
I have no idea how many people Papa has sent into Olympic to find me, but these three were the only ones who got close. They’re pros. Denver’s clearly military, and Memphis’s crossbow tells me he’s a hunter. He’ll be able to navigate these woods easily. I don’t know what Camden’s background is, but he’s clever and strategic. He played me like a fiddle, getting me to stop running and listen to him. I’m not surprised by their skill. Roger Castle doesn’t hire amateurs, and this team is on another level.
They’ll find this shelter. That, I’m sure of. I covered my tracks here well, which should slow them down, but I’m under no illusion that it’ll stop them. They’ll be familiar with my scent now, and slick has been steadily pooling between my legs. My only hope is that I can slip away and lose them once the rain starts. I don’t know when that will be, but rain is inevitable in Olympic. Hopefully, it’s sooner than later.
What’s most important? I review the supplies at hand. My food store is too big for me to take even half of it. I was already saving for a winter that I might never see in these woods again. If I’m lucky, the Alphas will leave my shelter alone, and in a few months I can sneak back to get the things I’ve left behind.
I snort. I think I used up all my luck yesterday. Instead, the Alphas will probably wreck my shelter so there’s no place for me to return to. I’d expect no less from Papa’s hired guns. He’ll want to make sure there’s no safe place for me to hide.
There’s only room in the pack for the essentials. Matches, medicine, a warm sleeping bag, my sewing kit. The biggest pot I have—I can boil water in it, and I was lucky to get one this large in the woods at all. It kills me to leave my T-shirt quilt behind, but it can’t be helped. After sleeping with it for so long, it reeks with my smell.
All the art, the carvings and paintings I’ve poured my heart into, will have to stay. I try to be merciless when I select only the most important things.
