CHRISTIAN
When Christian got back to the ledge, he found Dave curled up asleep on the hard rock of the path. His hair was tangled, he was snoring slightly, and there was the suspicion of drool in the corner of his mouth.
Christian hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he saw Dave was safe. Not just safe—asleep, and trusting him to be there. Dave had always trusted him, and Christianhadbeen there. He’d answered when Dave called, stood by him when it mattered, and protected him. But now he saw that Dave had been doing more. He’d noticed what Christian needed before he said a word, not because he was psychic but because hepaid attention.
Being there when Dave asked wasn’t enough. Loving him meant noticing before he had to ask.
He crouched beside Dave and studied him, the battered hands curling loose beneath his cheek, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Dave didn’t want to live here. He’d said so. And Christian couldn’t understand why he hadn’t said it sooner, but the thing was—he’d said it now.
He’d thought staying in this town, with the opportunity to keep fighting and winning, would give him everything he wanted. But now, it felt so thin, like paper held up to the sun. What good was any of it if it made Dave unhappy?
He sat back on his heels. Somewhere in these last few weeks, Elk Ridge had stopped feeling right. It had gotten too complicated. Too full of old memories, stirred up from a time he thought—he’dhoped—he’d forgotten.
But while all of that was true, the other reasons he’d stayed were still there. Matt’s steady, unshakable leadership. The understated care between everyone. The way people thereknewhim—knew when he needed space, or an argument, or just time with his horse.
Because there was Diablo, too. Aside from Dave, he was the first thing in years Christian had really loved.
As he studied Dave, watching the way his nose was twitching as a tiny but determined beetle attempted to scale it, the prospect of being back in Elk Ridge, with his pack, hisfamily,sounded right. Yeah, things there were still complicated, but that wouldn’t always be the case. And there was more holding him there than driving him away.
Dave stirred in his sleep, blindly batting at his nose and knocking the beetle away, without waking. Christian’s heart ached with how much he loved Dave like this, sleepy and warm. As much as he loved him in every other moment of his life. Somehow, in thespan of one night, this had gone from a crossroads to a straight road home.
They should get going if they were leaving—the airport was some drive from here. He pushed to his feet and kicked the sole of Dave’s boot on his good foot.
“Some of us have been busy while you’ve been snoring.”
Dave blinked blearily up at him, before grimacing and groaning as he sat up. Christian stopped him when he would have stood.
“You sure you’re okay to walk?” he said. “I can always go get food and water and bring it back here.”
For an instant Dave looked horrified, like the idea of staying here a minute longer was unbearable. Christian got it. At least he’d had something soft to lie on last night.
“I’m sure,” Dave said firmly.
Christian studied him for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay.” He really had to stop making the calls for both of them. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He’d always figured if Dave didn’t like something—or if he wanted something—he’d just say so. Turned out, he’d been wrong.
Making their way through the claustrophobic tunnel in human form wasn’t the most fun Christian had ever had, but finally they were out the other side, and he drew in a shaky breath of fresh air, face turned to the open sky.
They moved slowly through the silence of the old camp, Christian helping Dave over the uneven ground as he steered them both away from the tunnel, toward a narrow canyon carved through the rock.
“Like it was made to hide people,” Dave said, slightly breathless.
And then Christian saw something that stopped him dead, forcing Dave to brace awkwardly beside him.
“What—” he started, before falling silent.
It became suddenly obvious what he was looking at. A cave mouth in the sandstone was choked with broken rock, but the fragments were wrong for a natural rock fall, their spread too neat. Somebody had sealed it, turned it into a burial chamber.
What made it unmistakable was the stack of stones just in front of the cave, a conical pile that clearly wasn’t natural. He leaned down and brushed his fingers over a large piece of shale, leaning against the base. A single word had been scratched into its surface.
Loved.
The silence grew heavier, and when he looked up at Dave, he saw his eyes were wet. That inscription suggested someone whoknewthe pack. Someone who’d been part of it, even. Maybe there’d been another survivor besides Jesse, one who’d done the best they could for their packmates even though they must have been looking over their shoulder the entire time, not knowing if the murderers might return.
“Does this mean—d’you think one of them survived?” Dave asked, voice low.
Christian shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe others got away like Jesse did. Or maybe someone else found them and did the decent thing.”
He rose, brushing grit from his palms. “Do we tell Jesse?”
