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So much suffering etched into a single stretch of his body.

These aren’t battle scars, either. My father was a Legion officer and fought for most of my childhood, but he never came home with scars so horrific.

The marks on Titus are the vestiges of cruelty and abuse. This man has suffered things I probably can’t even begin to imagine. Has known pain, the likes of which I may never feel for as long as I live. He’s survived.

As I continue to stare at his back, a distraction to the Rager, my eyelids grow heavy with sleep. Placing my trust in the Alpha, I close my eyes.

Chapter 27

Heat warms my cheeks with the first rays of morning light, and I sit up from the ground to find myself alone at the campfire that has completely burned out. Looking around shows no sign of Titus, or Yuma, and the first twinge of fear skates over me.

He abandoned me.

I scramble to my feet, eyes constantly scanning over the terrain, and climb the rock for the path on the other side of it. It’s once I’ve made my way around the wall that I find both man and dog staring out over the open valley beyond, and I blow out a relieved exhale. At my approach, Titus glances to me and back, then points toward a patch of trees, one that seems so close, but I would bet is a couple miles away from us.

“I’m guessing that’s where he came from,” he says. “Wandering around. Probably smelled the fire.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“See if there’s anyone there. Any supplies. We’ll find a place to stay put for a few days.”

“Stay put? Won’t they come looking for us?”

“Yes,” he says, sliding the canteen over his head. “Remus wants you to produce an heir, and he needs me to earn his supplies. We’re too valuable for him to give up the search.”

“So, shouldn’t we keep moving?”

“So long as he believes you want to return to Szolen, he’ll head that way. We’re north--the opposite direction. If we stay a few days, they stay ahead of us.”

Reaching down to where Yuma’s stands between us, I drag my hand over his fur. “Huh. That was very wise of you.”

“Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.”

Without looking at him, I smile at the visual he’s planted in my head. “Then, lead the way, blind squirrel.”

* * *

Boy, was I off. The hike turns out to be more like eight miles, and takes a little over two and a half hours, which would be no big deal, if I’d eaten something this morning. Where Titus and Yuma damn near sprint along the path, I’m hobbling behind like an old woman.

Having left early enough this morning, the heat isn’t as intense as it gets midday, thankfully, but by the time we breach the entrance to the forest, my head feels light, and my stomach ready to consume itself.

I stare ahead at Yuma, who trots alongside Titus like the two of them are friends now, and glare. Perhaps Titus was right. Maybe I shouldn’t have shared that meat the night before.

Yuma leaps ahead of the human Alpha, picking up the pace as he leads us deeper into the forest, over branches and foliage that scrape against my legs, adding a nice bonus hardship to a trek I’m already happy to quit.

Giving a quick glance over his shoulder, Titus shakes his head.

“You say a word, and I swear, I’ll throw a rock at the back of your head.” I’m practically dragging myself now, lagging about fifty yards behind, and the snug shoes have torn blisters on my heels.

“You’ll learn.”

“What? That every creature I come across out here is food? Even if he has a friggin’ nametag?”

“That you take care of yourself first.”

“That’s a very selfish way to live.”

“It’s the only way to survive.”