Page 81 of Campfires & Canines
"We are going to get her back," Vale says, sounding overly confident for a gangly teenager.
"Whatever it takes," Onyx says firmly.
I want to believe them. I need to trust Heath as he works with the other Alphas to figure this out. But every instinct I have is roaring for me to do something. Track, hunt, fight, defend. I can hardly think. And what if they’re too late, or all his efforts fail and we’ve lost precious time trying to be diplomatic instead of tearing apart the Ironcrest and Granite Ridge territories?
We failed to solidify our bond. If we’re separated too long, her mark will fade away. Then she’s just a human who knows our secrets, and she loses what little protection I was able to give her.
“Come on, join us on patrol. It’ll help to be doing something,” Lazuli says before shifting into his wolf.
“Do you want me to?” I ask Onyx.
He’s staring unfocused, as lost to his anxious thoughts as I am. “Yeah, come on. Maybe we’ll find something we missed yesterday.”
I close my eyes, allowing my wolf form to emerge. It feels grounding to dig my claws into the earth and focus on picking apart all the scents on the breeze.
Lazuli leads. I shouldn’t be with them, so I don’t pull rank. But he’s right, it helps to be doing something, and to be with my packmates. Onyx stays near me, and I sense his concern and guilt. Somehow, it makes me feel less alone in this.
14. Meatloaf & Manipulations
Hazel
The next morning, Jasper wakes me up by knocking on the bedroom door. "Hazel?"
I sit up, my head pounding. I'm dehydrated.
"I’m making breakfast and then we need to talk," he says.
I head into the bathroom, cleaning myself up the best I can with my left hand. My wrist feels decent, and I want to keep it that way.
I awkwardly pull my shirt over my head with one arm. I rinse a washcloth and start to dab at my tattoo. The lines are no longer raised and angry-looking. Confused, I wipe my finger down the tiny black moons. It's completely healed.
I run a brush through my hair, surprised to see my brunette roots are getting long. It's only been a couple of weeks since my last highlight. I’m looking less and less like the polished Los Angeles girl I was pretending to be for so long.
He's waiting for me at the card table in the corner of the kitchenette, looking far too relaxed for someone sitting in a fold-out chair. He takes a huge bite of a waffle and waves his fork at me. I grab a matching plate from the counter and sit beside him.
"Ready for some fresh air?" He sounds hopeful.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
"How’s a pack tour and then lunch sound?" His grin is lopsided. He's back to being confident and charming.
“I don’t know.”
"How's the wrist?" He asks, eyeing the bandage. "Need me to redo it?"
"It feels pretty good. Let's leave it alone," I say. "So we're going out there? With your packmates?"
He nods. "It'll be fine."
I hesitate. I want the chance to escape, but I'm terrified of his mother and her minions. My attempt last night didn’t go well, and it could have been so much worse.
“Look, Hazel, I’ve been thinking,” Jasper begins.
The door clicks open. "Knock, knock, lovebirds." Sienna's voice drifts in. She doesn't wait for an invitation.
Jasper drops his head, his hand massaging the nape of his neck.
Reflexively, I move to stand behind Jasper's chair so my back isn’t to the wicked witch. He reaches up and takesmy hand.
