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"It should be."

"Besides," Tripp says, "this place probably hasn't had a working camera since 2007."

A frustrated huff comes through the speaker. "Fine. Then I'm sleeping in the bathtub."

That earns two immediate laughs.

"You're not sleeping in the bathtub."

"Watch me."

"We'll hang a sheet over the window."

"A sheet shield?" Tripp asks.

"A security sheet," Autumn corrects. I can practically hear her crossing her arms.

A few seconds later, Tripp comes back on the line.

"Thanks for checking."

"No problem."

The line goes quiet, then disconnects.

I stand there for a second longer, staring out at the empty parking lot, before heading back into my room.

Nothing was there.

No footprints, no shadow, no person watching from outside the window. Just an empty parking lot, and a nervous omega.

Still, as I shut the door behind me and climb back into bed, I find myself wishing I'd ignored my own stupidity and stayed in their room tonight.

Because if I'm being honest, I'm tired of standing on the wrong side of the wall. When we get home, I'm done pretending this is temporary.

One way or another, I'm going to ask her, because she's our omega and I need to know if she plans on staying.

Chapter

Forty

Autumn

The truck smells faintly like coffee, the horse trailer rattling behind us every time we hit a rough patch of highway. Briggs has both hands on the wheel while Clint messes with the radio beside him, flipping between stations every time one starts fading into static. In the backseat, Tripp has somehow stretched himself across enough room for two people, despite being one person.

"You're in my space."

"Our space."

"My space." I stare at him.

"Agree to disagree." His grin widens.

The truck hits a bump and my shoulder knocks into his. Tripp immediately acts like I've done it on purpose.

Clint groans from the front seat.

"An hour."