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“Fine,” Run growls, glaring at each of us one more time. “Go! But be smart about it.”
The thin mask of calm covering my instincts slips a bit, and I’m ready to go at him again when Wyatt grabs me by the arm, stopping me.
“C’mon,” he mutters, pulling me toward the door. When we’re in the entry way again, he growls in my ear, “What’s gotten into you, Noah?”
I don’t answer. My heart pounds in my chest, and adrenaline still courses through my body. I feel like something’s happened to me—like I’m irrevocably changing in some way, becoming someone completely different.
So, I keep quiet, and Wyatt does, too, as I follow him out of the house. My eyes squint against the bright sun as we silently walk down the weedy path and through the tall gate.
Now that I don’t have Run to focus my aggression on, I feel like I need to find something new. I want to destroy something. Tear someone limb from limb. Fuck someone…
Hetty’s face flashes in my mind and I growl, yanking at my collar.
“Where are we going?” The frustrated scream bursts from my throat. “Are you taking me to Hetty?”
The muscles in Wyatt’s back twitch, but he doesn’t answer and doesn’t look back as he leads me away from Dogwood Street, and we begin walking down the worn, packed earth paths on the edge of town.
Typically, betas use these paths to push carts full of goods through town without disrupting the foot traffic on Dogwood Street. It’s always calmer, further away from the hubbub in town. But Goldenrod has become so quiet in recent weeks that it seems louder out here—the bird songs and buzz of insects carry on the wind, gnawing at my nerves.
So, I don’t feel any more relaxed as we continue. The only thing that allows me to keep some semblance of calm is the thought that he’s taking me to Hetty. I’ll get to talk to her. Touch her.
Suddenly, Wyatt stops in his tracks, whipping his head to watch me curiously. “What’s this new fascination with Hetty?” he asks as if reading my mind.
I pull back. “I’m not fascinated with her.”
“Then why do you want to see her so badly?”
I shrug, attempting nonchalance. “I want to make sure she’s okay. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”
“Why not Stella? Or Cami?” he presses, stepping closer to me. “Don’t you want to make sure they’re okay? You haven’t laid eyes on them in weeks either.”
“I’m Hetty’s alpha!” I yell, sweat beading on my forehead and heat rising up the back of my neck. Is Wyatt keeping me from her? Am I going to have to kill him, too? I ball my fists tightly, ready to hit him.
“She’s a beta, and you’re not her alpha anymore,” he says calmly. “She works at Cypress House now. Rill is her alpha.”
“Then where is she?” I yell. “No one was at Cypress House, Wyatt!”
“She’s…” He sighs, studying me. “I’m not sure if you’re ready to know about this, Noah. I wanted to tell you weeks ago, but you seemed so…”
I rev myself up, holding up a fist, but a growl dies in my throat as my eyes catch on something over his shoulder—the burnt remains of the Home for Unwanted Omegas. I lower my hand as my stomach sinks.
What used to be a large house with a sweeping front porch is now a charred pile of wood and debris in a grassy field. Seeing the place where Beebalm died and everything started to fall apart, my anger and aggression withers to a husk, replaced by something new.
Regret.
“I just want to know where Hetty is, Wyatt,” I say, my voice hollow. “I need to see that she’s okay. The last time I saw her, I…”
His face softens, and he tilts his head, studying me. Probably trying to figure out what’s going on with me. I wish I could tell him.
“It’s this way,” he says with the same calmness, turning from the path and leading me through the tall grass. Wordlessly, we pass the charred pile of remains and enter the tree line.
It’s cooler and quieter under the tall trees. My heart pounds haphazardly as I begin to sense what direction we’re walking. Before I even see it, I know exactly where he’s taking me.
The fence.
I stop in my tracks, eyeing the tall silver chain length. Slivers of sunlight peek through the trees, glinting off the tall poles. I haven’t been near it since the last delivery. Just standing here sets my teeth on edge. The same question I’ve had every morning pounds through my skull, a reminder of my ignorance.
Am I going to die today?
