Page 28 of Real

I’ve never been there, of course. I don’t have that kind of money. But even if I did, I wouldn’t go there. Illusors are infamous pickpockets and tricksters.

How do they know about Buddy? Could they really help him?

“Are you saying I should take Buddy there?” I ask.

He sighs. “I don’t know. It made me nervous that they refused to meet Buddy anywhere else, which is why I never told him about it. He was so desperate to get out of Dorian’s place. It would be far too easy for someone to take advantage of him.”

Buddy is definitely vulnerable. He doesn’t know anything about how the world works. He also goes into heat every night, which leaves him at the mercy of whatever alpha is in the vicinity. I don’t know how I feel about Candlewick keeping this information from Buddy, but I understand why he did it.

“I could go with him,” I suggest.

“You don’t know very much about Illusors, do you? The talented ones can create illusions that look so real, they could easily take Buddy from you, and you’d have no idea until he was long gone.”

“Then what do you suggest?” There has to be a reason why he’s telling me all of this.

Candlewick glances back at the guards again. “Honestly? I’m all out of ideas. We have less than twenty-four hours before Buddy meets with the judge. So far, you’re the only person Buddy’s met who sees him as human. If he’s still plastic when he goes into that courtroom, he’s as good as dead. At this point, the Illusors might be our only hope. Unless you can think of some other way to save him.”

My plan was running off with Buddy, but that won’t work. Unless Felicity thinks of something brilliant between now and tomorrow afternoon, we won’t have a legal defense that will stand a chance against Dorian. There simply isn’t enough time to explore other options.

“Why didn’t you tell the lawyers all this last night?” That would have given us a whole extra day to vet the Den of Dreams and figure out a plan to keep Buddy safe during his visit.

“Steppe said he was from a red wolf shifter sanctuary. I… wasn’t sure I could trust him.”

On the compound, red wolf shifters would call someone like Candlewick a “half breed” or a “mutt.” It makes sense that he’s nervous about the sanctuary’s involvement in his case. I’d probably be nervous too.

If he ends up in The Cell, the other prisoners will make his life a living hell.

“Why do you trust me?”

Candlewick drags a hand through his hair. “When Steppe and the other lawyers were here, they talked to each other about who should take care of Buddy, and Steppe suggested a guy named H, but the other lawyer didn’t want H to take care of Buddy. She said H was too soft and would get attached to him. You’re H, aren’t you?”

Too soft? Is that what Felicity thinks of me? Am I not supposed to feel compassion for the patients under my care at the sanctuary? What does she expect me to do? Treat them with the same coldness and cruelty they experienced at the places we save them from?

I thought she respected me. Hell, I thought we were friends.

“Yeah, I’m H.”

“I’m relieved she was right about you,” Candlewick says.

It’s clear he’s trying to compliment me, even though the comment chafes. I don’t want to be the wild card Felicity and Steppe can’t rely on because I’m “too soft.” I want to be seen as an important member of the team, someone reliable.

“Hey, I’m sorry. What’s going on between you and your coworkers is none of my business. Will you be able to take Buddy to the Den of Dreams at midnight and help him find the puppet show? Those were the instructions I was given.”

“Fine,” I say. “I can do that.”

After all, I was just about to risk prison for Buddy, wasn’t I? Felicity was right. I have become attached to him.

“Did Steppe agree with Felicity?” I ask. He brought Buddy to me, didn’t he? Doesn’t that mean he thought I could handle it?

Candlewick looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“Did Steppe agree I was too soft and I’d become attached to Buddy?”

Candlewick eyes me warily. “Yes, but he said the world could use a little softness. He said… when the two of you were in the breeding pits, you held the omegas who were the sickest so they wouldn’t have to die alone. He said you didn’t let go until their bodies were cold.”

A flash of memories I’ve spent a long time trying to suppress rises to the surface. I was only in the pits for a month. I never would have survived as long as Steppe or Timber did. Every omega who died weighed on me too heavily for me to be of much use there. The other alphas did everything they could to sate the omegas. Timber in particular barely slept. He seemed to have an endless amount of energy. But I was useless. Even on the virility medication they gave us, I could only knot a few times a day. I ended up caring for the sick and dying. When they were cold, I was the one who closed their eyes and laid them in the netting to be raised up and taken away.

“Yes,” I croak. “I should go.”

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