Page 72 of Campfires & Canines
There's a stretch of silence and I clench my fists. Elm steps closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.
"We need to investigate this. We tracked them to your border," Heath insists. "How can we make this unobtrusive for your people?"
Zephyr stares him down. He's older, with silver hair and deep lines across his forehead. He's always been a respected alpha, but my instincts are roaring: he is untrustworthy.
"Perhaps a small party, two or three of your Thetas? They can walk the road, but nowhere else."
Heath nods. He arranges for Hawthorne to take Elm and Vale. Elm has the experience and Vale has exceptional senses. Rationally, I know this is the right choice. But I cannot tolerate him sending others instead of me.
I push forward. "Alpha. I need to go." My voice is rough.
He levels his stare at me. "You know that's not a good choice."
"Why?" I demand. I'm aware my tone is disrespectful but I can't help it.
"Get in the truck." He dismisses me. I glower and climb into the truck, imagining disemboweling the Ironcrest Zeta watching me.
A few minutes later, Heath climbs in to sit beside me.
"I know you're barely keeping it together. I understand," he says, quietly.
"You should let me go," I protest again.
"You wouldn't respect their guidelines. We both know that."
I can't argue. It's the truth.
"Trust your packmates. There are times as a leader you have to let others handle things, even when you desperately want to handle it yourself." He is trying to focus me on my position and duties. I can only think of Hazel.
"That's not acceptable when she is at risk," I growl.
"I know. But you could make this situation worse," he responds, still patient.
I bury my face in my palms, trying to force away the dull ache behind my eyes. The same horrible images of Hazel hurt and scared cycle through my mind.
Heath leaves me to my thoughts.
Eventually, Hawthorne's team returns. We load up. I can see from their faces that nothing substantial was discovered.
On the drive home, Hawthorne fills me in. They found absolutely nothing. No hint of Hazel. No trace of any Granite Ridge pack scent.
Our best chance of tracking her has slipped past us.
I choke down my rage layered over absolute terror. Fear I won't reach her in time. Fear of what might happen to her. Fear of a life without her.
Hazel
No one visits me the next morning.
I'm sure Heath and Slate are searching for me. They won't stop until I'm safe. I trust them. But every passing hour spikes my anxiety. I need to be patient.
Laying on the sofa, I stare at the ceiling. When I'm hungry, I scrounge some grapes and cookies.
As I'm setting my plate in the sink, the door opens. Turning, my heart jumps as I recognize Jasper. His face is cold and distant. My frown transmutes into a glare when his mother follows him down the stairs.
Her hair is in a single braid today, draped over her shoulder like a sexualized video game character. Her lips are blood red.
She strides forward confidently and I can't help but note how Jasper's posture is lowered, his shoulders slumped. She has him beaten down, probably for years. The dynamic between them is clear. Somehow it triggers fresh rage. My hands curl into fists.
