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I’d have to remember that if I got out of here. Michelle and Ezra would want to—
Grief.
A wave of blue, a riptide pulling me under.
Ezra. The way he’d smiled at me. The way he’d held my hand. Touched my hair. Cared for me. Protected me. Loved me.
But he wasn’t Ezra at all.
They’d called him Robert Livingstone.
He’d called himself that. And if Michelle didn’t know, then she was in danger.
Unless.
Unless she did know.
I’d never felt more lost.
“Where am I?” I asked miserably, not expecting an answer.
“Green Creek,” Gordo said, crouching down to inspect the line of silver.
“I don’t know where that—”
“Oregon.”
My eyes bulged. “What?”
The Alphas didn’t speak. The man against the door frowned.
The witch stood again. He glanced down at the stump of his arm, scowled at it, and then glanced back at the Alphas. “You sure about this? We don’t even know if it’s going to work. It probably won’t. Aileen and Patrice think it’s gone too far.”
That didn’t sound good. “Then maybe you shouldn’t even try.”
Gordo laughed. “Yeah, sure, kid. We’ll keep that in mind.” He shook his head. “I’ll be damned if it isn’t good to hear your voice, though.”
“He’s different,” the man against the door said. “Holds himself differently. Moves differently.”
“That’s what happens when your mind is wiped,” Gordo told him. “There’s a difference between destroying a specific memory and taking years’ worth. My father went too far. It’s like a blank slate. Or close to one. You notice the little flashes, though? The glimpses peeking through?”
The man nodded.
“He couldn’t take everything,” the witch said. “Though I’m sure he tried. I bet he even tried to put in new memories, but that’s probably beyond even him. And I don’t think it would’ve worked on Robbie.”
“Why?”
“You heard what he said at the bridge. He underestimated the bonds in the pack.” Gordo glanced at me. “He didn’t know just how strong Robbie was. He had to have fought like hell against my father. He wouldn’t have made it easy to do what he did.” His voice held a note of pride, and it took me a moment to realize it was directed toward me.
“I don’t believe you,” I told them helplessly. “Ezra wouldn’t… he’s not like that.”
Gordo snorted. “You keep telling yourself that. The stories I could tell you would make your toes curl. Let’s just say I’m not sending him a card for Father’s Day this year. And the name Ezra is fake, kid. He’s Robert Livingstone. Try to keep up, all right?”
The man against the door covered a smile like it was a secret.
The Alphas still didn’t speak.
“Okay,” Gordo said. “Let’s get this shit show on the road. Mark, the others ready?”
