MILLIE

We come to a stop after a few hours. Leander jumps out of the vehicle and speaks with a guard. He hands his laptop to the male, who returns to his vehicle and speeds off.

Only a handful of us remain. The darkness of the surrounding woods and the brightness of the stars is stark. We're far from civilization. The road is rocky and my wolf is on high alert. We're in rogue territory, away from the jurisdiction of all rules and structure.

Leander returns to the vehicle and we drive for a few minutes deeper into the woods to get the car as far away from the road as possible.

"We will camp here," he says.

I watch guards step out of the only remaining vehicle, working dutifully to unpack. They're calm and unfazed, as if this were just another day and they didn't just abandon their families to chase Leander. They're still loyal to their Alpha who has inadvertently given up his title by spilling his secrets.

I step out of the car and sit with my back against a tree, breathing in the soothing, fresh air. Allowing nature to engulf me and exhaust the forest fire in my brain. I rip my dress at my knees and walk barefoot, submitting to the wilderness.

Leander speaks with his guards about patrolling, his voice direct and confident. Leading comes naturally to him, even now that he only has a handful of men under his rule. Maybe he really does have Alpha blood pumping through those bulging veins of his.

A fire is started and some men gather around the flames. I don't know anyone here, and I'm awed by their calm. They act like everything is alright, unfazed by the fact that today will be recorded in history. I admire their composure, because my mind is buzzing with so many thoughts that I can hardly see straight.

I made my choice, but I'm aware of how mad it is. I have become a fugitive, and I must admit my fear for what is coming. Life as Leander's captive was blood-boiling, but it was stable. Almost predictable. I woke up every day knowing that there would be anger between us. That we would fight and bicker. Now that we're fugitives, there is no stability. No home or familiar faces. I can't even rely on the constant hate and tension, because even that is diminishing. My feelings for him are changing in color with every revelation and answer he gives—from red anger and black hate, to lighter and lovelier colors that are painting an utterly terrifying picture.

In this wilderness, I have no warm and safe home to rest my head in at night. But that's nothing compared to the loss of the feelings I was so dedicated to. I have hated this man for years, gladly denying him the pleasure of my friendship. What will become of me now?

Leander approaches me, setting a hand on the tree and bending at the waist. I remain in my sitting position and look at him with wide eyes. Does he realize that something stirs in my belly every time he hovers over me, replacing the sky with his abs?

I'm tempted to stand up and even our height. But I don't want to make my unease obvious to him. Even now, after everything that happened, I have a bit of an ego and am insecure about my raging attraction to him.

"I'll answer all your questions soon. But for now, I need you to rest. We will ride until we run out of gas. Then we will shift and keep running if we have to." He scans the dark woods. "I'll go hunt deer for the group to eat."

"I can hunt," I offer, running a hand through my hair. "It will help me take my mind off things."

"I can't risk you lingering in the darkness, Millie. If anything happens to you, I will dive right into that fire."

I lower my gaze, unable to stop my heart from swelling in my chest. "Don't...say things like that."

He doesn't even blink. He's bold and confident of his moves even at rock bottom. "Rest," he says. "I'll return soon."

With that, he pushes off the tree and walks into the darkness that swallows him.

I sink deeper into the tree and close my eyes. I curl my toes and cross my arms over my chest, beckoning sleep to save me from my thoughts.

I doze off after a while and lie on my side beside the tree. The hard ground is uncomfortable, but the soothing crackling of the fire lulls me to sleep.

Leander keeps his promise and returns quickly. The scent of blood is pungent in the air. But I'm grateful that it's a deer, and not a wolf. Tonight was so chaotic. Things could have gone a thousand ways, but thankfully no one got hurt.

I rise and find Leander looking at his game. He's kneeling against it, a knife tight in his fist.

"Can't sleep?" I ask him.

He nods. "Sorry for waking you."

I exhale. "It's fine. But today is a new day. And I don't think I can go back to sleep without answers. Will you walk with me?"

He stabs the dagger in the dirt beside the deer's head and rises. The fire burns low and dimmer the farther we walk away from it.

When we get so far away that we lose sight of his men, I release what little control I have over my curiosity.

"Who was your father?" I whisper. "You said you cheated on the trials because you were going to win regardless of age. Why do you think your bloodline is so special?"

"Bluethorn pack," he says.

Bluethorn? I don't recognize the name.

"That's not a pack," I reply, frowning. "Or at least it's not large enough to be considered a pack. I don't know the first thing about it, to be honest."

He sighs. "It's in the west. Its population has dwindled dramatically over the decades because of a mysterious fucking illness that has made many females infertile and drove hundreds of fearful families away from the territory. The pack became so small it lost its standing among the official packs."

This must have happened when I was a child. Why were we never taught this in school? I've heard a few cases of dismantled packs.

I think about his story, lamenting. Softly, I reply, "I'm really sorry, Leander, but... why did you leave it if you were its heir? Wouldn't your people need you?"

"Because that fucking illness is man-made. Sent by the council. And someone must make them pay."

The conversation is becoming too fragile. I can't even meet his gaze anymore. Because although I sympathize with his pain, I suspect his accusation is more of a conspiracy theory. He's seeking someone to blame for this horrible fate. I've never heard of this infertility illness, but more violent illnesses have wiped out packs in the past. I'm sure he's telling the truth, but he's not accusing the right criminal: mother nature. The council probably had nothing to do with this.

"I don't know if it's wise for you to plan such an articulate revenge based on a hunch that the council was involved."

"A hunch?" His voice is so fiery that it could curl metal.

"I—I—" My palms sweat. I can sense his pain and anguish, but I don't know how to navigate it.

"Do you want to know why I showed up to the fucking trials? For power and status needed for my revenge. It took me so long to enter the trials. I entered at eighteen, a few months past the age deadline because I had just woken up from a coma."

I bite my lip, my head reeling. "A coma?"

"The Alpha family was assassinated. I was the sole survivor, but of course, this was all buried by the council. There you go, Millie. Now you know it all."

Oh, Goddess. This is not what I was expecting. It certainly explains why he's not religious. Why he feels forsaken by his maker. He lost his family and was knocked into a coma and woke up to win the trials. But then he lost me. Not because of the Goddess, not because of the council. He lost me because of secrets, an age gap that was beyond both of our controls, and heartbreak.

So much fucking heartbreak.

I glance at the Alpha. An Alpha that was born, not made through the trials. His jaw is set, his muscles bulged as if he's ready to explode into a frenzy. The entire world is against him, including the Alphas that used to be his equals.

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

He huffs, blowing hot air. He paces left and right. I sink onto a log and wait for him to settle down. It takes a few minutes, but eventually, he sits beside me

His knee bounces. He's still restless. A ticking time bomb. I've never been able to read his mind, but I see now that I don't need to.

I set my hand on his knee, and he deflates. His shoulders sag and his head hangs. He grunts like he's tired.

And then there's silence. A peace I've never sensed in him before.

I keep my hand on his knee, hanging on for dear life. He needs my touch. I have given him hell. Everyone has given him hell. But tonight, I don't see a cocky Alpha who is set on controlling me. I see a defeated man in need of some sympathy. Some humanity.

We sit there until dawn. Not sharing anything except for the heat of our bodies.

Upon returning to camp, we receive the news that one of the vehicles was damaged and we will have to stay put until the mechanic diagnoses the problem and fixes it.

Leander is clearly frustrated by the setback. We are certainly being chased by the other Alphas, and we need to put as much space between us and our pursuers.

But we can't abandon the vehicle packed with precious supplies.

Leander's foul mood fills me with anxiety. The old me would have rejoiced to see him upset. But things have changed. I heard his story, and I believe it, no matter how outlandish it sounds.

I feel his pain through our bond, and I want him to get his revenge. So, I'm doing what I never thought would be possible: I'm willingly sticking by his side.