“I’ll grab the glasses. You grab the bubbly.”
I’m a little tipsy by the time Hattie goes home, so I settle on the couch to take a nap. This time, my daily bumps come from being tipsy and not my blindness, and that eases something inside me a little.
I’m sad Hattie had such a terrible time with her ex—he sure sounds like the biggest narcissist out there—but it was nice to have girl talk again. I felt like I really eased some of her troubles.
For the first time in almost a year, I don’t feel helpless. I don’t feel like a failure for asking for help. My heart lifts just a smidge.
And even better, for the first time since the accident, I feel a little flutter of something brewing in my belly. Could that be hope? Do I dare give into it?
Chapter 5
Jason
The air is putrid with wet moss and rotting leaves, making every inhale into my aching lungs even worse. My paws slip on the muddy earth, each step demanding more concentration. My legs burn with the effort of staying upright. Buff hasn’t been winning his fight against the elements. This is the third time he’s tripped in the last ten minutes, and this time he goes down hard, the rain and muck swallowing his grunt. When he gets back up, he’s caked in mud, fur plastered to his ribs, eyes glazed over. I bite back a curse. His legs are technically moving, but they’re as useful as soggy sticks right now.
Something sharp and mean twists under my ribs. My wolf is snarling at me like it’s my fault Buff’s falling apart. Hell, maybe it is.
I want to tell him to keep going, to pull it together, but the words lodge in my throat. He’s exhausted and trying his best. We all are. The rain has been relentless since Freddie destroyed the pack’s bikes, and it’s getting fucking annoying.
Beneath the annoyance, panic chews at me, whispering that I pushed them too far, too fast.
I nudge Buff with my muzzle, giving him a bit of leverage.
“Why don’t you imagine you’re running toward one of the alphas’ daughters?”Froggy’s thought comes from behind me, breath hitching between every word he throws at Buff.“I’ve never seen you stumble on your way to getting laid.”
Buff lets out a wheezing bark that might be a laugh.“Does it look like I’m wearing cleats, asshole? I wish I was in human form right now—I’d flip you off.”
Their thoughts cut through the rain, reminding me that somehow, we’re still alive. Buff is panting hard enough, I swear I can hear his lungs straining. Froggy’s thoughts are snappier than usual—he gets that sharp edge when fear is clawing at him. I keep my focus on the plan, because if I don’t, I might stop, and stopping isn’t an option. Not with the twins’ hounds out there. Not with too many days already gone. Not with time suffocating us from behind.
If I think too long, the weight of what I’ve dragged them into might make me sink right down into the mud. So, I don’t think. I run.
Still, I manage a snort, because of course these two would argue about sex while running for their lives. Pack of idiots. My pack. And even if I’m not worth an alpha’s ass, I’ll be damned if anyone says otherwise. And I’ll be damned if I let either of them fall behind.
The thought hits with a fierce, stupid loyalty that warms me for half a second, then hurts like hell the next.
“I think my balls are frozen,”Buff whines.
“No one told you to run away naked,”I growl, the words rough enough to cut.“Now you can’t shift back or we’ll be running from the alphas and the cops. And let’s be real, there’s no explaining that much swing to a patrol officer.”
Buff huffs a laugh that sounds dangerously close to a death rattle.“You complimenting the size of my swing, Jace?”
Of course he turns it into a joke. He always does when things get so bad that you can taste death in the air. The sound rolls through the trees, bright and stupid and exactly what we need. My traitorous lips twitch, because only Buff could find room for ego while sliding through the mud like a cartoon character. Part of me wants to snarl at him to pay fucking attention; the other part wants to keep him talking because talking means he’s still fighting.
And fuck, we need him fighting. If he gives up, even for a breath, I don’t know if I can carry what happens next.
Froggy snorts.“Could’ve told you that was coming.”
His paws drum steadily through the mud beside me—way too loud in the downpour. The rhythm grates on my nerves like Chinese water torture, until I realize that steady thump-thump-thump is the only thing keeping me moving. Pity his mouth doesn’t drown in the same mud his paws keep kicking up. Know-it-all asshole.
And yet, that constant presence beside me is the only thing stopping my brain from spiraling into all the ways this can go wrong.
Still, he’s not wrong. Buff always takes the bait.
Buff wheezes out a laugh between gasps.“Look, if we do run into the law, I could always say I was running from an angry husband.”
The image flashes through my mind before I can stop it—Buff naked, sprinting through town, some furious human chasing him with a shotgun—and for the first time in hours, the ache in my chest eases.
The tension slips off my shoulders in a warm, fleeting wave, like my body forgot for a moment that we’re dying on our feet.
