Rosamund makes a bored little noise. “Just don’t get lost,” she says unhelpfully.
“Obviously,” Petal hisses back, and if I could see her face I’m sure she’d be rolling her eyes at the other omega right about now.
My heart’s thundering too loud in my chest for me to respond. Anxiety clawing up my spine.
Five things I can hear. The crew muttering to themselves. Courtland’s cheerful encouragement. A seagull. The waves on the sand. A distant car horn.
Four things I can feel: Petal’s hand on mine. The end of my ponytail brushing between my shoulder blades. The sun warming my skin, and the ocean breeze sweeping in to cool it.
“Okay,” Someone calls. “Ready!”
My grounding sequence stutters but holds. A horn blows heralding the start of the challenge.
“Alright, ladies!” Courtland yells from above, his voice blending in with his pack mates. “We’re doing this all together!”
All together?
Petal whispers, “Oh no.” And clutches at me tighter.
Rosamund groans. “Can’t we go one at a—”
“Nope!” Courtland shouts happily. “Ren, take a big step forward! Petal, small step left! Rosamund, stop talking!”
Chaos. Of course its chaos with him in control.
I choke on air. “Courtland, I-I don’t know whereforwardis!”
“Right! Right, forgot. Uh, pixie, turn your whole body to the left. No, your other left!”
“So you meanright?” A sound halfway between a laugh and a sob catches in my throat as I turn to my right and step forward, hoping I’m doing the right thing. “Courtland!”
“Sorry! Sorry! Okay, okay. Pixie—you’re facing the maze now. Take a step forward, Ren. Petal, you’re good, too. Just… keep going straight. Trust me!”
Trust him.God, I want to. And I hate that wanting.
I lift my foot and-
“Stop!”
I freeze mid step. Petal whines somewhere behind me and I know his shouted order has all of us immobile. But he didn’t bark at us.
“You’re about to walk into a wall,” he explains.
“Who?” Rosamund shouts back, apparently already as over this as I am.
“Ren.”
“Me?” I squeak.
“Yes, pixie, you.” He sounds amused for some reason. Though I suppose it might be funny to see all of us scrambling around blind as bats and without the handy echo location they have.
“How close?” I call back.
“Um.” His hesitation is not reassuring. “Like, touching distance.”
I reach out, and yep, my fingers hit rope instantly. “Courtland!”
He laughs helplessly. “Hey, we’re learning! Okay, pixie, slide your hand along the rope and shuffle right. No, other right. God, I wish I could touch you—not like that, you perverts—just to point you in the right direction.”
