Page 4 of The Delta's Rogue
He takes off over the back wall of the alley and into the trees after that, but at least I have a sense of his path. It gives me an idea of where to start.
“Sebastian.”My dad’s voice breaks into my mind as he uses our pack link to communicate with me.
“Yes?”I resist the urge to growl at him. Tonight’s events are the result of his choices, now and twelve years ago.
“Pierce took off. Benjamin went after him, but he had a transport stone.”
I freeze then pat my pocket, checking for the pinkish-purple stone I used to get Haven and me here before she bled out.
“I know you promised your brother you’d find whoever did this to Haven, but—”
“I’ll keep an eye out for Pierce too,”I say before he can finish.“But Lennox is my priority right now.”
“The pack is still on lockdown, but you have my permission to do whatever needs to be done to find him.”
The link drops. I exhale as I stand and turn off the feeds, keenly aware of the stone in my pocket. None of the others know how I returned to Crescent Lake so quickly. No one has asked yet, but I know they’ll be suspicious of the rogues-who-aren’t-rogues and Alpha Pierce both having transport stones. Witches are the only ones who can create them, and they don’t give them away without reason—or a hefty payment—so they’re rare for anyone but a witch to have.
I shake my head and lock the door as I exit, taking off towards the neutral section of the forest between our pack and the two others nearby, where the rogues have their camp. Stopping there will cut into my hunting time, but I need to get this stone off my body. Having it will raise too many questions.
I know the rogues are innocent. My gut tells me so, and my gut is always right. But the others are too wary and will be more so after the events of the last few hours.
The howling stopped while I was inside. It’s replaced by a hollow silence. Not even the chirping crickets, the rustling grass, or the creaking of the branches ease the weight the absence of the howls leaves behind.
It’s an emptiness I’ve felt before, on nights like tonight when the moon is almost invisible, and the grounds are still and quiet. Nights I’ve roamed the forest unaccompanied and undisturbed, hoping to ease the aching sense of loneliness and isolation within me that the moonless sky amplifies.
I reach the rogue’s camp uninterrupted and glance around the empty site. A log glowing with dying embers crackles in their fire pit, but there are no signs of life. Just the neat and inconspicuous tents, spaced evenly from each other in a half-circle, all of themclosed up tight.
I’m hesitant to leave the stone sitting out for anyone to see if they stumble across the campsite, but there is no other option. No one is here, and I need to track Lennox.
I set the stone on a camp chair and head back the way I came, leaving the site as quickly as I arrived, ready to take off for the city.
But a voice stops me in my tracks.
“What’s the rush, Pretty Boy?”
I freeze, my fists clenching, and close my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I hold in my exasperated sigh before turning to face her.
Sarina.
She stares at me, expectant, her arms crossed and dark brows raised. That thick, straight black hair of hers drapes over one shoulder, leaving the other and her sleek neck exposed by her skin-tight, off-the-shoulder red mini dress.
She’s been the bane of my existence since she tackled me in the forest the other day, taking me out with an ease not even my best warriors possess. I can’t stop replaying the moment in my mind, analyzing her technique and her muscles and her facial expression and those lips and…
I shake my head, shoving that train of thought into the recesses of my mind. That is not a path I need to be heading down right now. Or ever, if I’m honest.
“Pack business that doesn’t concern you, Little Rogue.” I cross my arms to match her pose.
She sighs and flicks her hair off her shoulder, and my eyes track the swaying of it behind her. “I’m not a rogue. I’ve told you this.”
Shehastold me that. Many times.
Rogues are werewolves who’ve been kicked out of their packs. They are rabid, on the verge of losing their humanity. Sarina…Sarina and her friends are something else, just a smaller pack of wolves roaming the world with no set home base.
But I don’t let her win. Instead, I scoff and shrug, turning on my heel to leave her and finish what I started. “And I’m not pretty, but I don’t have time to argue semantics with you right now.”
Sarina darts forward and grabs my hand. “Let me help you find him.”
I glare down at where she’s holding me for a split second, then arch a brow at her, ignoring her touch and how good and natural it feels.
