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“Yes. Their hunting senses are heightened.”
“If I was, in fact, pregnant, which I know I’m not, that would make Will the father. The only possible father.” I quietly absorb that thought for a minute. How utterly ridiculous and cruel the universe would be for making me pregnant with his child. “Sleeping with him was supposed to be a joke. To laugh in the face of the priest and Mother Chilson. Now he’s dead. And it’s my fault.”
“How is it your fault, when I killed him?”
“I’m the reason he ended up with Remus. The reason he joined Legion, at all. He hated the military. Hated fighting.”
In the silence that follows, I stare up at the stars, wondering if he’s staring down at me. If he can hear the remorse in my voice. The thoughts in my head that would surely clue him in on how little I want a child right now. How stupid we were for never even considering the possibility, however slim it might’ve been.
Resting my hands against my belly, I try to choke back the tears. “I can’t have a baby. Not out here. I’ll never make it out here. That wasn’t the plan. None of this was the plan.”
“The world doesn’t give a shit about your plans. As for the baby, you either try, or you don’t. There is no halfway.”
My muscles burn with the scowl I shoot back at him. “You’re not very sympathetic, are you?”
“No.”
“Fact number two confirmed.”
“What fact?”
“Another thing they say about Alphas. Your hearts are like stone.”
“You seem to know everything about me.”
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“Get some sleep. We have more walking to do at first light.”
“Where to?” I ask.
“Wherever that dog came from.”
Chapter 26
Sounds reach my ear in the black void. Growling and clicking. They intensify, until it seems as if they’re in my ear.
I shoot upright, my eyes opening to the glow of embers, and Yuma lying beside me, growling at something. Across from me, Titus sits facing the unseen threat somewhere beyond our camp, while my heart continues to pound inside my chest.
“What is it?” I whisper, squinting to catch a flicker of movement off toward the abandoned camp.
“Ragers.” Not a hint of worry in his voice, Titus settles back down on the ground across from me.
Falling back to sleep? How?
“Won’t they … Won’t they come and try to drag me off?”
“They might, if you don’t stop talking and go back to sleep.”
“How can you sleep with those things so close? It’s like trying to sleep when you’re surrounded by sharks.”
“Sharks only take notice when you’re moving around, or making noise.”
Traveling with him is the most frustrating thing. I can’t even tell if he’d be rattled by one dragging me off to a cave, or if he’d consider it one less mouth to feed. If an Alpha’s heart is said to be stony, then his is that with a side of apathetic gravy and callous biscuits.
Yuma continues to growl, but doesn’t move from his spot. I don’t know too much about dogs, except that most animals seem to have a sense of self-preservation and defense. The fact that he hasn’t darted off tells me he likely believes this to be the safest place, too.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I lie back down against the dog, keeping my eyes fixed toward the sound of the Rager, which inevitably keeps my gaze on Titus’s back. In the light of the fire, I study the scars beneath the layer of dirt on his skin. Long scars. Short ones. Circular and oddly-shaped ones. Many of them clustered like topography.
