“Come.”
The door opens, and it reveals a trashed room that Zeek has taken his frustration out on.
“So… you are handling this all pretty well,” I say with a raised brow.
“Thanks for noticing,” Zeek retorts. “I call it active meditation.” He huffs and tosses himself into a broken chair. “Any news?”
“We are approaching the Kelion Sector, but nothing other than that.”
“I don’t think I can handle this,” he admits, which is a lot for him.
Being the youngest alpha in our pack, he often tries to outdo us. Humor is his usual defense. Right now, he is raw and broken.
I match his honesty. “I don’t know if I can either. And if we get her back… What if she doesn’t want us? What if she doesn’t survive the claiming? What if our animals hurt her?”
“I don’t think our animals would do that.” Zeek taps his claws together nervously. “Don’t you think, even in our frenzy, we would know how much she means to us? To our pack? To our bond?”
“You’re right.” I rub my face. “But as the leader, I need to make the right decision for all four of us.”
“I think our choices must be left to the fates,” Zeek grunts.
“Serrat? Zeek?” Rok calls through the ship’s comms.
Instead of replying, we both rush to the control room. “What is it?” I ask before I’m even through the door.
“Leva picked up a trail. Doesn’t seem but a day old.”
I hear something in his voice and ask, “What else?”
“It’s headed to the Hordes territory.”
“Do you think Crax has dealings with them?” Zeek asks.
“I would think word would get out that he deals with the worst of the worst,” I say with doubt.
Rok looks at me with uncertainty. He wants to know if he should follow. I can see his wish in his eyes. And even though it goes against my nature to put my pack in unnecessary danger, I give him the nod. And I realize itisa necessary danger.
* * *
A few hours later, we get pinged.
I read the incoming message to my crew:
I type:
I write:
I pause and look at my pack. “Well?”
“I don’t like it. It could be a trap,” Rok says what we are all thinking.