Salvation (Wild Heat)

Chapter 25 – B R O O K L Y N

For once,the Alphas let me go wherever I want. By now, I know they’re not worried about me running away, and I needed some space away from them so I could think. I offered to look for dry wood for a fire, even though I know that after yesterday’s torrential rain, the odds are good I won’t find much.

I don’t need a flashlight to navigate the woods. I’ve spent plenty of nights walking with only moonlight to guide me. Being out here alone makes me feel equal parts comforted and confused. After all the time I’ve spent out here, I’m used to being alone in my own company. Now that I’m away from the Alphas, I feel almost normal again. This is the life I’ve gotten used to—just me and the forest surrounding me.

But at the same time, I miss them. Camden’s humor, Memphis’s strong, quiet presence, and Denver’s discipline and authority. Already, I’ve gotten used to having the Alphas around. I want to know what they’re thinking, what they’re doing, and I’ve barely left them.

It scares me. Because one way or another, their job is almost done. Whether or not I can convince them not to bring me back to my family, they’ll leave me and go back to their regular lives. They have homes and families waiting for them. Just because they like me well enough to knot me doesn’t mean they feel anything deeper.

My part in their stories will end, but knowing them will change my life forever. Because I don’t know if I can go back to being alone again. Not now that I know how it feels to be really connected to an Alpha, not out of obligation or lust, but out of affection. Maybe even out of love.

I spot a flash of matte black in the corner of my vision, too even to be anything natural. It’s a garbage bag, old and dirty—clearly, it’s been here for a long time. I gingerly pick up the corner, and thankfully, there’s more than dirt underneath it. There’s a small felled tree, long dead and somewhat protected from the rain. I think it should be good enough for a small fire, at least.

That’ll make Denver happy. He likes sitting by the fire when he thinks.

My mind supplies a flash of Denver’s face, white teeth flashing in a smile framed perfectly by his short beard. Maybe a strand of his dirty blond hair falling over his forehead, making me want to push it back.

I want to please him, even with something as small as finding dry wood. I want to be the person who makes him smile.

I don’t even know when I stopped fearing him and started wanting him so much, I barely knew how to think about him without my blood feeling like fire in my veins.

He’s not yours, Brooklyn. Stop obsessing.

Dirt clings to my hands as I dig out the dead tree. It’s heavy, but I can manage to carry it by myself. The work is good—it distracts me from dwelling on the men back at camp. I have no idea how they feel about me right now. I might just be the person they were hired to take care of, but maybe they have deeper feelings, too. They helped me through my heat and showed me what it felt like to be taken care of, but that doesn’t mean they care about me. They’re good, decent men, and they would have done the same thing for any Omega in need. If they knew how much I wanted them, they’d probably figure out a way to let me down gently.

But maybe they feel the same way.

It’s that “maybe” that keeps me going. It makes me hope that there might be some future for us after this.

As I get closer to camp, I catch sight of the electric lantern first. A beacon in the darkness, calling me to be brave enough to tell them the truth I’ve kept secret for so long. I have to open up to them if I want this to go anywhere. They deserve my honesty after everything they’ve done for me—as terrifying as it is to tell them what I let Grayson do, I have to make that leap if I want to keep them in my life. Once they know everything, they can decide if they still want me.

My eyes adjust to the light, taking in the men moving around the clearing. Tall, lean Camden. Broad-shouldered Memphis with his dark curls and well-kept beard. Massive, muscular Denver, who moves gracefully despite his bulk.

They’re beautiful.

If I want them to be mine, I have to be open now.

I clear my throat, and they turn to look at me, their faces full of concern and gentle curiosity. They’re not going to pressure me to say anything—they respect me enough not to prod. I’m the one who has the choice to open up to them, and trust that they won’t judge me.

“I’m ready,” I say. “I’m ready to tell you everything.”