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His shift pulled back.
The violet faded.
He slumped against the brick.
His eyes were wet and unseeing. A drop trickled down his cheek. I told myself it was the rain.
I stood, knees popping. I was getting too old for this shit.
I turned and left the Omega behind, rolling down the sleeve of my jacket.
I felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.
The others were waiting for me at the SUV. “What did he say?” Carter demanded. “Did he know—”
“Tioga. I saw it on the map earlier. It’s an hour away. Richard was there. Might still be.”
“What did you do with the Omega?” Kelly asked, sounding nervous. “He’s okay, right? He’s—”
“He’s fine,” I told them. I’d learned a long time ago how to lie to wolves. And the rain would have muffled the sound of his heartbeat. “He won’t be bothering us again. Probably across the border already.”
Joe stared at me.
I didn’t blink.
He said, “Kelly, it’s you
r turn to drive.”
And that was it.
IT WAS in Tioga that Joe lost control.
Because Richard had been there. His scent was all over a motel outside of town, and while it was faded, it was there, buried under all the Omega stink. We had been so close. So goddamn close.
Joe howled until his voice broke.
His claws tore into walls.
His teeth shredded the bed.
Kelly huddled at my side.
Carter’s face was in his hands as his shoulders shook.
Joe only pushed back the wolf when sirens sounded in the distance.
We left Tioga behind.
After that day, Joe spoke less and less.
TOWARD THE end of that second year, on a day when I thought I couldn’t take another step, I opened the secret pocket in my duffel bag.
Inside was a wooden raven.
I stared at it.
I stroked one of its wings. Just once.
