Chapter 169

After two days, I’m beginning to feel stir-crazy. I’ve opened up more to Wade and Scott, talking to them more openly than before. But Caleb is the man I love. Sitting beside him in the backseat but not communicating with him at all is starting to upset me.

Time is precious, and I don’t really want to fight anymore. But neither do I want to air out our differences in front of Wade and Scott.

“We’re almost at the edge of the forest,” Scott says. “We’ll have to go on foot from here forward.”

“I’ll stay with the car,” Wade adds. “Drive around so we aren’t suspiciously parked. Scott will contact me through the usual channels when you need a pickup.”

“Very good,” Caleb says, one of his few words of the day.

Soon, Wade pulls the car up to the side of the road. Scott, Caleb, and I hop out then hurry to disappear behind the tree line as Wade drives away.

“It doesn’t appear as if we were seen,” Scott says, checking behind us. “I’ll go on ahead and scout the perimeter. Continue due east and we will meet at the location Tristan told us. Be careful.”

“You too,” I tell him. Anything could be waiting in this forest. If this is where Tristan went to meet with the rebellion army and uncover their leader, perhaps they were all still there. We could be walking directly into a trap.

Caleb lifts his head and scents the air. After, he doesn’t seem particularly alarmed. His presence comforts me. With his Alpha senses, he would be able to tell if we are walking into danger well before we actually do so.

Scott scurries off into the brush.

I turn toward the direction I’m pretty sure is east and start walking.

After only two steps forward, I stop abruptly, a pair of strong arms wrapping around my waist.

Caleb.

Closing my eyes, I lean back against him. He lowers his head to my shoulder and plants a kiss at the bottom corner of my neck.

He doesn’t say anything, so neither do I.

Not quite an apology, this feels more like a possible goodbye.

Even if the army isn’t here, we are still walking into danger and we both must know it.

Maybe this is an apology, after all. Not in a way that Caleb feels he’s done something wrong, but more in an ‘I don’t want to fight anymore’ kind of way.

He places another kiss on my neck, this time higher, near my ear.

“Stay in my shadow,” he whispers to me. “If any danger comes, I will protect you, but you must stay close.”

“I will,” I promise.

That seems to satisfy him. After one last squeeze around my middle, he releases me. Then, without another word, he treks forward. Quickly, I step behind him, following him deeper into the forest.

After a while, we start to see the remnants of an old fort. Most of the walls and buildings have crumbled, with a few still standing. Large rocks that had once been part of the fort litter the surroundings.

Caleb stills, lifts his head, and scents the air again. His body has been tense since ending our hug, but I’m relieved to see that he does not tense further. Likely that means he does not sense danger nearby.

“There were people here once,” he says. “Many, many people.”

We continue forward, eventually stepping into a clearing. There, we see the telltale remnants of a crowd. Cooled fire pits dot the area. A few discarded blankets lie, pushed up into corners like they were kicked out of the way. The grass itself is bent and trampled, as if it has been walked over by a great many feet in quick succession.

“The army?” I ask.

“Most likely,” he says. “At least, part of it. I don’t sense anyone here now, except…”

Scott comes out of the nearby forest, entering the dilapidated fort from a different direction.

“It seems they’ve cleared out a few days ago, my King,” Scott says, coming closer. “Their trail leads north.”

“The Northern packs are sympathetic to the rebellion?” Caleb asks.

Scott’s mouth tightens a moment in a grim expression. Then he says, “Every pack is sympathetic, my King. The northern packs are no exception.”

Caleb’s own face goes dark.

“We shouldn’t forget our purpose,” I remind them both. “We need to find some evidence that Samuel is the leader. With so many people, they must have left something behind.”

“She’s right,” Scott agrees. “We should search among the debris.”

Caleb nods to Scott, yet as I start to leave his side, he glares at me. “Stay close,” he commands me.

“You said the army is gone?” I’m confused.

“He’s right to be cautious,” Scott says. “They might have anticipated our arrival and left traps behind. Be cautious, Piper.”

Traps. Gods, I’m out of my element here. “Right. Okay.” I move back to Caleb side, as Scott heads in the opposite direction.

Caleb and I move along the outer wall, checking debris piles. So far, we’ve found nothing but trash – discarded empty tin cans and crumpled up wrappers.

Eventually, we reach another breech in the wall, where the wall has collapsed. Caleb immediately stretches his arm out, stopping me from going forward.

“Caleb?”

“I smell blood,” he says.

“Fresh?” I ask, trying to see over his shoulder.

“No,” he replies. He breathes deeply, then frowns heavier. “But it is familiar.”

Oh no. “Tristan?”

He doesn’t reply, which is answer enough.

Turning, he moves through the hole in the wall. We make it a few yards before I can finally see what he sensed back inside the fort.

Among the grass and dirt is a dried up pool of blood. All around it are arrows, sticking straight into the ground. Leaning down, Caleb grabs one of the arrows and pries it from the ground. Holding it up, the arrowhead glistens in the light.

It’s silver.

“These arrowheads have been dipped in silver,” Caleb says. “Tristan was a strong werewolf, but with enough of these…”

“They must have discovered him,” I him, voice soft. My chest feels empty and I’m short of breath. How tragic, losing Tristan like this. Was he fleeing, when the arrows descended upon him?

Did he know he was facing his end?

Caleb closes his fist so firmly, so suddenly, that the arrow he holds snaps in two. Both pieces fall down harmlessly to the dirt.

“Caleb, I’m so sorry,” I start to say, but he shakes his head once stopping me.

The time for mourning, I suppose, will come later. For now, Caleb has other matters on his mind, it seems.

“There is no body,” he says.

I look around. “Are you sure? He could have crawled away?”

Caleb lifts his face and scents the air. “No. His body isn’t here.”

If he’s not here, that can only mean that the rebellion took him somewhere. But where? And why would they do that, if he’s already dead?

“Perhaps… he’s alive?” I say, afraid to give life to hope if it’s simply not possible. The sheer amount of blood on the ground speaks otherwise.

Caleb’s face reveals nothing. “For his sake, I hope he is not.”

“They would torture him?” I ask.

Caleb looks at me, and I see nothing but ice in his eyes. “They would make an example of him.”