Page 18 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

His eyes snap open, and he stares at me. “Good. That’s good. If we miss each other, we will be smart. Let’s get going. We need to get to those rafts before the end of the day, and we’ll be doing double time to do it.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea with Dove?” I ask, suddenly uncertain of my plan.

“Yes, we need her moving. Let’s go find a place to have a heat.”

“Okay,” I murmur. “Camping it is.”

Rolly walks past, singing about running off to live in the wild. It’s catchy and annoying, but the weight of the stress that has been pushing us down is lifting.

Roseland

Istand under the tree, apart from the group, from the pack that I swore I was different from, that it killed me to stay away from. The me that existed just a few short months ago is gone; how quickly the stagnancy of time suddenly speeds up and changes everything all at once. I was a fighter for good. Right and wrong mattered. She was a ghost who appeared on days when I thought I’d dreamed her, and he was a passing moment that I couldn’t grasp.

Now, it’s real, I can taste them, touch them, smell them, lose them.

The fear of what may happen churns my stomach and turns my nightmares into blood-drenched dreams that wake and keep me awake long into the night.

Suddenly, right ends up protecting the monster who shattered my omega and wrong is a group of alphas who will do anything to protect her, and it’s me against the oaths I took when I swore my life to the city.

Pix was correct. Right and wrong is a non-existent line, the world is full of shades of colour, and I will dance across all the lines to keep them safe.

Sage is moving around the clearing, and he’s not saying a word, but I can hear everything he said to me when he found me. The whispered declaration that had my whole self alive with electricity, that melted my brain and heart, that destroyed my intent and determination to keep them at arm’s length. To hold them in a place of safety because if some of us are alive, isn’t that better than none of us?

No, being together even for a minute is worth it.

I try and picture my life on the force, my job, the apartment I rented, the shitty cubicle that was mine. I can see it, smell it, but it no longer feels real. It’s like a dream I conjured, one that doesn’t fit my life anymore.

I am remade and sinking fast.

They are my lifeline, holding me above water.

Dove laughs, and it pains me as much as it lifts me. I want to put my hand to her face and see Raven staring back at me. I want to hear the cadence of her voice, the slightly cynical laughter she lets out so freely when she says something cuttingly clever.

My throat tightens.

Guilt and regret. Those have become my constant companions. Guilt because I want to see Raven, and I know Dove is here for a reason, and she needs us. She’s starved of attention, you can see it in everything she does. She is flourishing under our care and protection.

And regret. So much regret.

Why didn’t I get there sooner? Why didn’t I find him? Stop him? Why couldn’t I have reached Kestrel or Merle? If I had been faster, stronger, smarter…

If I hadn’t been so fixed on doing what was right.

My moral compass is shattered on that cottage floor. Lost somewhere between the kitchen where we held down Dove and drugged her so we could treat the wounds she couldn’t feel, and the bedroom where she screamed for us to save her.

I killed a man four weeks ago.

I haven’t told anyone. He was taking pictures of Dove. I lured him into the forest, wrapped my fingers around his neck, and squeezed. It was surprisingly easy to take his life. It was faster than I assumed it would be.

When he was dead, I didn’t feel regret nor shame. I didn’t feel anything but relief that Dove would be safe.

I buried him in a shallow grave.

I am just like them now? And I can’t find it in me to regret it.

“Rose?”

Her sweet voice chases away the dark thoughts, and I smile as I walk towards her, shoving all my stress to where she won’t ever see it.