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Except nobody has answered our calls. It’s strange—the Castles have always picked up within minutes whenever he’s called before. We discussed postponing until after we could reach them, but we’re already stretching credibility with how long Brooklyn has supposedly slipped out of our grasps. We have to get moving on the plan now.
“Are we ready?” I ask the other guys.
Memphis nods curtly.
“We’re ready. But is she?” Denver asks, glancing over at Brooklyn.
She stands and joins us, four bouquets in hand. “I don’t think I could ever be ready,” she says. “But our friend deserves to be put to rest.”
Memphis, Denver and I move the coffin to rest on top of the pyre. Brooklyn gives each of us a bouquet, to leave on top once the fire’s started. It’s touching to see how serious Memphis and Denver look, huge muscular dudes holding our Omega’s dainty bunches of wildflowers.
Brooklyn clears her throat. “We’re here to honor the life of another Omega. We never spoke, and I don’t know her name or what her life was like. But I know that she was not treated with dignity when her life ended. I want her to know how sorry I am for what happened to her. I hope wherever she is, she feels a kind of peace. Because I owe her my life.”
She pauses, her blue and brown eyes shining with unshed tears and righteous fury. “I know what it’s like to be hurt by an Alpha. I used to think that there was no such thing as a good Alpha, that they were all violent, selfish, and cruel. I’m lucky that I got a chance to know three Alphas who showed me that wasn’t true. I wish that this Omega had the same chance I did. I wish she knew how it felt to be truly cared for and truly loved.
“So thank you, Omega. You’re helping me escape a life of hell and restart my life with my new family—my real family. Thank you, and I’ll never forget you.”
Now, Brooklyn’s not the only one with tears in her eyes. My vision’s blurry, and as I wipe my eyes on the back of my hand, I see that even stoic Memphis has a single tear streaking down his face.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Thank you,” Denver repeats.
Memphis opens his mouth, but he doesn’t speak. He freezes, nostrils flaring as he scents something. All at once, his quiet, sad expression turns thunderous.
“I smell Grayson Castle,” he growls.
Brooklyn gasps, her face turning pale. I wrap a supportive arm around her shoulders while Denver goes into military commander mode.
“Just Castle?” he says bluntly. “Any others?”
“A few, but I can’t identify them,” Memphis says. “They’re coming for Brooklyn.”
“Fuck.” Denver grabs his lighter and sparks up the torch he prepared for the fire.
“Are we sure that’s a good idea?” I ask. “We have to run. We can’t keep an eye on the fire.”
Ignoring me, Denver touches the torch to the pyre. The fire catches quickly, the kindling around the wood bursting into flame.
“We have to try,” Denver barks over the crackling flames. “It’s the only thing that might cover our escape. We have to move. Now.”
THIRTY-THREE
—
B R O O K L Y N
I take the lead as we run through the forest. These are my woods—if anyone can get us out of here, it’s me. Camden might be able to navigate them by a map, but I know their hills and valleys in the darkest night. When I’m moving at full speed, even Denver struggles to keep pace with me.
I navigate us toward a nearby stream. Kneeling in the water, I grab mud by the handful and coat my skin with it. I’m covered in the Alphas’ scents by now, and the last thing I need is to give Grayson another way to track me.
The men follow suit, covering themselves in mud without me having to explain.
“Where are we going?” Denver asks in a low voice.
“Back to the caves,” I say. “The terrain is rough, it’ll be hard for them to follow. We’ll cross as many rivers as we can to break up our scent trail.”
Denver nods his approval. “Good. We can use the higher sightline to see them coming. Back to camp first, then north to the caves.”
