It wasn’t his first time going up there to think.
To contemplate his life and the emptiness of it. How many times had he stormed up there with thoughts of walking out into No Man’s Land and leaving Fort Seattle behind? He wasn’t surehe’d survive it if he left, but he wasn’t sure he’d survive inside the walls, either.
Especially now.
There was no way he could live the rest of his life knowing Dash was within reach but not be allowed to touch the man. It was too cruel. Yet—how could he be responsible for Dash losing everything—and ending up in a locked cell?
Emerson walked a bit closer to the edge and looked up at the soaring pines, most much taller than the thirty-foot-wall he stood on. He chuckled mirthlessly, once again realizing the absurdity of their world and the supposed safety the walls provided.
If a group of Wildlings wanted to get in, they’d have a relatively easy time of it. Cut down a massive Ponderosa pine or two and use them to scale over. Immediately below, there was a wide swath of ground where the trees had been cleared away to prevent that from happening, as if the trees outside that containment area couldn’t be moved into place.
Their whole society was built on the concept of it being safer inside. Structures were in place. Rules for the way they lived.
And rules for the way they loved.
It was all utter bullshit.
Emerson inched closer to the edge, staring down at the blank void that had once been full of trees, the wind whipping his hair and shirt around. He held out his arms and leaned in, allowing the gust to buffet him.
If only he could fly.
16
The sun was coming close to setting when Dash finished up at the Hall of Records. He’d spent hours searching the arrest reports from the previous raid on the Dragon but found little. Not only was there no mention of any man named Jaye, but the reports on the alphas they’d arrested had been light on information. Most of them had been missing their booking photos, as well, so he had no idea if one of them might’ve been an alias Jaye might’ve potentially used.
Could the guy be sitting and rotting in jail right now?
None of his contacts at the Guard were answering his calls to help him find out—so he was awaiting calls back. The hurry up and wait bullshit was for the birds. He wanted answers. Not later, but now.
One good piece of information fell into his hands. He’d managed to find three different harassment claims against a particular attorney. Most had been closed—likely paid off—but that gave him names to reach out to in his search for dirt. Knowing Crenshaw, they’d all signed NDAs, though.
NDAs could be broken though, under the right circumstances. It was a reach with a lot of ifs, but it was a pathway opened and that was better than nothing.
He marched through the massive, arched foyer heading towards Central Precinct on his way out when his younger brother walked in.
“Well, well, well… how are you, stranger?” Oakley asked, grinning.
“I’m good and you?”
Oakley shoved his glasses up his nose. “Doing good. Did you just come from seeing Dad?”
Dash lifted a brow, ashamed he’d not gone to the Crime Lab to say hello.
Oakley eyed the file in Dash’s hand and sighed. “You came into the building and hadn’t planned to come to see us?”
“I’m on a case,” Dash said. “Trying to track someone down. I was going to swing by before I left.”
One of Oakley’s brows rose. “Sure.”
“Promise,” Dash said.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Randall Walker walk in, looking fresh and ready for a new shift.
“Speaking of my case, my contact just walked in. I’ll come see you and Dad in a few.”
“Holding you to that!” Oakley said as Dash made a beeline toward Randall.
As soon as Randall saw Dash, his pace quickened and he headed for the precinct doors.
