“Yeah,”I say, through my exhausted mind,“and that’ll definitely soften your case. ‘Sorry, officer, I forgot my pants during adultery.’ Real convincing.”
They both bark laughter into the rain, and for a heartbeat the chase, the fear, the mud—everything—feels lighter.
The sound shoots adrenaline through me. Raw, stupid hope pumps heat back into my frozen veins. It’s reckless to feel it, but I cling to it.
It fuels us, gives our legs one more miserable mile.
I huff out a shaky laugh of my own. The echo bounces back off the trees—and then the guilt sucker punches me in the gut.
It doesn’t just hit—it sinks claws into my spine and drags everything bright straight back into the dark. One second of relief, and the next I’m drowning in the truth: they’re laughing because I’m leading them straight into hell.
I’m the reason they’re running on fumes. The reason Buff looks ready to cough out a lung. They took their punishment without question while I schemed my way out like a coward, promising money that doesn’t exist. If I’d kept my mouth shut, they’d be free. Exiled, yes, but free.
The truth scrapes through me like barbed wire—every lie, every desperate choice etched into my ribs.
Now, if we don’t get to the border in time, Thorne and Talon will send their mutts to drag us back. And this time? It’ll be worse. They’ll make us suffer for days. It’s nothing less than I deserve—but more than the boys ever did.
My wolf growls low inside me—not at them, at me. At the mess I made. At the punishment I’ve earned.
The thought tastes like metal, sour and final, and my paws hit the earth harder. Maybe if I just keep moving, I can outrun the part of me that knows the truth: I didn’t save them. I doomed them.
Running feels like the only penance I can afford. If I stop, all of it will crash down on me. All the ways I failed. All the ways I’m still failing.
Since the alphas cut us loose, we’ve been running nearly nonstop. We stole a few hours of rest here and there, but not enough to do anything except remind my body how tired it is. Every step grinds through my bones; my paws ache like they’re carrying the whole damn forest. The world is a blur of mud, breath, and rain.
My muscles scream, my lungs burn, but none of it hurts as much as the fear of losing them.
We’re all dog-tired.
“Wolf-tired,”Froggy says automatically.
Shit. Did I say that out loud or just think it? The line between the two is dissolving with every mile. My brain’s mush, my tongue’s a traitor, and whatever pride I had drowned under the guilt hours ago.
I’m fraying, my mind slipping through my hold like rain. And they can hear it. They can hear me unraveling.
“Whatever,”I rasp.“If we go any farther without sleep, we’ll be drooling on our own paws.”
Buff grumbles,“You mean you’ll be drooling. That’s your thing.”
“Keep talking,”I warn.“I’ll let Froggy use you as a pillow.”
“Right now, I’m so exhausted I wouldn’t care. Aren’t we close to Mama Maggie’s?”
“About fifteen miles east. It’s a detour.”The words aren’t reluctance—they’re honesty. The boys need to understand the risk. We have to reach Mexico before Thorne and Talon realize there’s no money waiting and come for our heads instead.
I can practically feel the twins’ shadows on our heels, breathing down our necks, just waiting for the moment we stumble.
But we’re running on fumes. Half-dead, half-crazed, and one hundred percent out of luck. I tell myself stopping at Mama Maggie’s is a good strategy, not surrender, but even my wolfdoesn’t buy that lie. I hate dragging anyone into our shit—especially her. We rescued her son from a pack of miscreants, and ever since, it’s been impossible to stop her from trying to repay the debt.
My wolf yearns for her warmth, her food, her safety, while the man in me flinches at the thought of painting a target on her door. Guilt and instinct tear me in opposite directions until I’m split down the middle.
“I could get some clothes,”Buff says.“Stop more people coming after us. And you worrying about the size of my ‘swing’.”
I feel his energy spike—and it has nothing to do with modesty.
Hope flickers in him, faint but real, and it fucking guts me. They’re still looking forward. Still believing. Even though I’m the one who dragged them this close to death.
He’s right. We need the break. Froggy’s silence right now scares me more than the hounds on our tail. He only shuts up when something inside him is starting to crack. Hell, I've seen him starve without complaint.
