“We’re running out of time, Max.”
“I understand.”
“And we need the rogues’ help, or Mia and Olivia to patch things up with the Rocky Pack or we’re done for. Have you looked for them yet?”
“Not yet,”I say, feeling guilty, but also, I wanted to try and make my rogue plan work before using my powers to find the girls.
“Max, we can’t wait much longer.”
“I get it,”I snap, maybe a little forcefully, not because I’m angry at Jasper, but because I’m angry at our situation, at Walter, at the whole idea of packs and hierarchies. I quickly course correct.“I’m sorry, I know you’re just worried about home.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you feel any more pressure. I’m glad you’ve been getting so much from this trip. I’m just ...”Are those tears I can hear in his voice?“I’m scared, Max.”
I push my feet out in front of me, making trails in the dirt. The fire is beginning to die down.
“I know. I promise we’re doing everything we can. We have a tip about another settlement a couple of days from where we are. Maybe we’ll have better luck there, and we haven’t reached the Sanc yet, so ...?”
“So things could still turn around,”he says, not sounding like he believes his own words.
Again, we let the silence hang long and filled with everything we can’t say.
“I love you, Max.”
“I love you too. Speak tomorrow?”
“That sounds good, and, just so you know, I’m proud of you too. If anyone can save us, it’s you, my mate.”
I exhale and let my shoulders drop as the mind-link disconnects. Jasper has this way of taking on an ultraromantic tone sometimes, especially when things are feeling dire. Not that I’m complaining, but sometimes the correlation between his increased affection and the stress fueling it can freak me out.
Once the fire is out, I make my way back to the car, shutting the back door quietly as I climb in to try and get some shut-eye.
“How’s the alpha?” Omar asks, keeping his eyes closed.
“Worried,” I say, shoving a rolled-up hoodie under my head and curling my knees up to my chest to fit lengthwise along the back seat. “Do you think we’ll find anyone willing to help us?”
I sit up when Omar doesn’t answer, wondering if his silence means our situation is hopeless. But when I do I find him having fallen back asleep. His mouth is hanging open, his head flopped against the window.
Outside, the moon is silver and swollen, and I send out a prayer, hoping Selene can hear me.
THE FORGOTTEN
ALPHAS
Two days later we pull up at an abandoned strip mall about twelve miles outside of San Antonio, Texas. Omar seems to think there’s a settlement out here, but as we drive slowly down the cracked and potholed main street, I can’t imagine anyone lives here.
“You sure this is the place?” I ask, staring out the window as I let the car cruise at a snail’s pace.
Weeds grow from the cracks in the sidewalks, the shop windows are blasted out, graffiti is sprawled over the walls, the doors have been boarded over.
On the drive into this ghost town, we coasted through the desert seeing no signs of life. There are no signs of it here either. The single row of shop fronts is surrounded by arid wasteland on all sides. It’s like something out of an apocalyptic zombie movie.
“This should be the place,” Omar says, looking every which way.
“Doesn’t look like anyone’s lived here for a while, you think the Axis wolves got here first?”
Omar rolls his window down and sticks his nose in the air.
“I can’t scent any pack wolves. But there is something a little wolfy. Maybe we should park and explore on foot?”
