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I’m gonna fall. This whole log will just collapse out from under me, and my body will plummet downward, smashing open on those pointy rocks. I can’t believe this is how I die. Not on the battlefield, but on American soil, chasing after an Omega who doesn’t even want to be caught. It’s all pointless. In some distant part of my mind, I’m aware that this is just my fear talking. But my body’s not convinced. My arms quake with panic, trembling so hard I can barely keep my body from collapsing into the wood. My breath comes in fast, shallow pants, blood thundering in my ears.
This is the end.
Until I feel a tug on the rope. Small, not enough to destabilize me, but definitely there.
“You got this.” Brooklyn’s quiet voice reassures me from the other side. “Not much further now. Keep going.”
She brings me back to the world. I allow my body a few seconds to handle the adrenaline, and I finally manage to move. Just a few inches forward, hand followed by knee. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I manage it, thanks to Brooklyn. She broke through to me and kept me alive.
I raise my gaze to thank her, just in time to see her dark hair as she disappears into the trees ahead.
EIGHTEEN
—
B R O O K L Y N
The rain pounds on my back as I race through the forest. I weave through the trees as quickly as my feet can carry me. I might not know this territory well, but I’ve got a head start and I plan to make the most of it.
I almost felt bad, leaving Denver in the middle of that log. Poor guy was clearly terrified of heights. He was trembling so hard, I thought he might lose his balance and fall. Part of me wanted to stay long enough to make sure he was safe, but I forced that instinct down. I might not get another chance to run, with only one Alpha watching me, and I don’t have space in my mind for a guilty conscience. I have to focus on running.
Right now, running is impossibly hard.
Some rains start as a mist. You could get a few minutes of light drops before it really starts in earnest. Not this rain. It went from zero to one hundred, falling in sheets so heavy, I can barely see an arm’s length in front of me. The leaves littering the forest floor are slippery under my feet, and I almost lose my balance a few times, barely managing to catch myself on tree trunks. The pleasant soundtrack of the forest, usually full of birdsong and wind, has been overwhelmed by the unrelenting pounding of raindrops. My senses are completely compromised.
So I don’t hear his footsteps at all before Denver tackles me to the ground.
His heavy, muscular body knocks the wind out of me. I struggle against him, but he’s bigger and stronger, driven by anger. He soon has me flat on my back, one hand capturing both my wrists, the other pushing my chest to the ground. His knees pin my legs down. We both gasp for breath, winded and exhausted.
Denver’s usually good at concealing his emotions. Now, he’s either too tired or he just stopped giving a fuck. Rage is written all over his features, his strong jaw clenched and hazel eyes narrowed. Dirty blond hair falls over his forehead, dripping water onto my face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Denver roars. “You could have gotten me killed, distracting me.”
I say nothing, just stare defiantly back at him. Our chests rise and fall, our breaths mingling. The scent of warm steel and juniper surrounds me. Pure Denver. Despite myself, my body softens, my head falling back to offer my neck to him. The Omega in me, pleased to be captured by such a strong Alpha.
What if he tore down my pants and took me here on the wet ground?
Denver’s eyes flash, and I’m struck with the irrational fear that he just read my mind. I gulp, and he bares his white teeth. He looks like he’s fucking feral.
I’m so turned on, I’m practically keening for him. I’m in a daze as he quickly moves to ensure my capture. The neon yellow rope we used to cross the log is now used to tie my hands together behind my back. My feet are next, until the only thing I can do is wiggle.
So much for escaping. All I’ve managed to do is royally piss off my captor.
Denver puts his pack on backward, so it’s tucked against his chest. His back, apparently, has been reserved for me. He throws me over one broad shoulder, so easily that I might as well weigh nothing at all. I’m stuck looking at his—admittedly sexy—backside as he strides purposefully into the storm.
Thankfully, it looks like I didn’t lead us too far from our path to the caves. I don’t have to wait long before we’ve reached our destination. While Denver turns to look at the surrounding landscape, I’m able to take stock.
The cave in front of us hardly looks welcoming. It’s too deep to see much inside, and what I can see looks wet and slightly slimy. Anything could be in there, from snakes or possums to, god forbid, a grizzly bear. Even the prospect of being out of this goddamn rain doesn’t make me enthusiastic to walk inside.
Denver sets me down on the ground. He makes sure I don’t hit my head, but he’s not exactly gentle. After rifling through his pack, he finds a small black tube which he holds to one eye. Of course, Denver’s got a night vision scope.
He takes a few steps into the cave, then emerges, looking satisfied.
“Nothing in there,” he proclaims. “Should be safe for the night.”
After carrying me in and setting me against the wall, Denver puts on a small electric lantern and gets to work setting up our shelter for the night. He roots through the debris on the ground to find whatever dry wood he can. After watching him for a few minutes, I get impatient.
“I can help, you know,” I call out.
