“Two o’clock,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Sixty miles. You’ll need to leave by noon.”
“Eleven thirty. I want time to see the approach.”
He nods. “I’ll tell Jessie. Quietly.”
He goes. I stay in the study for a moment, my hand on the phone, and then I go outside.
The sun is up now. The compound is working. The barn doors are open, and someone is leading a horse out to the pasture. The training yard is active, Jessie’s younger wolves running drills in the cool air before the day heats up. The sound of everything is the sound I’ve heard every morning for most of my life, and in a few hours, it will continue without me, and the knowledge of that is easier than I expected it to be.
I walk to the training yard. Jessie sees me coming and breaks off from the group. Meets me at the fence.
“You’re going today.”
“Two o’clock.”
“Ellis told you how he’s handling Brenna.”
“He told me.”
She studies me. “You look like a man who’s already left.”
“I’ve been leaving for weeks. Today is just the formality.”
She doesn’t smile. Neither do I. The younger wolves are watching us from the yard, pretending not to, the way junior wolves always watch an alpha conversation.
“Whatever happens,” she says, “the pack knows the truth now. They know what you did and what you didn’t do and why you chose this. If you come back, you’ll come back to wolves who see you clearly for the first time. If you don’t come back, the story holds. I’ll make sure it does.”
“Thank you, Jessie.”
She steps forward. Puts her hand on my shoulder. Not a dominance gesture. Just contact. The kind of touch that saysI see you.
“Don’t die out there, Garrett.”
“I’ll try.”
She turns and walks back to her trainees. I watch her for another minute. She’s already running the pack. She was ready before I knew she was.
I head to the barn. No point in going back to the house to pack anything. Whatever the Syndicate will do, it doesn’t require the things I own.
Ridley’s in her stall when I get inside, head down in a mound of grass. At the sound of my footsteps, she looks up, mouth working.
“I’ll be heading out today, girl.” I run a hand down her sleek neck. “Remember what I taught you. Keep clear of the northern pasture; the stones there bruise your feet. And be sure to drink your water when the fall comes, or you’ll be colicking again.”
Ridley turns her head and lips the sleeve of my shirt. Her breath gusts out in warm bursts that I can feel through the fabric.
I inhale deeply, taking in her scent, horse and fresh grass and a hint of leather. I pat her shoulder, and she huffs out a soft snort.
“You be good now.” I turn away and leave the barn. And if my throat’s a little tight, it’s probably just the dust.
Eleven-thirty. I drive the truck out through the main gate. The compound is behind me in the rearview. Ellis is at the gate, not raising a hand, just watching. My mother is at an upstairs window. I see her face for a second before the road bends and the compound disappears behind the ridge.
I drive west.
The roads are quiet. Farm country, hay fields, the colors of the Hill Country in June.