56. Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Six
Viper
Dawn hasn’t reached the mountains yet when I finish strapping the last of my climbing gear into place. The fortress is quiet around me, a sweet spot of silence Blackgate only gets after the night shift patrols rotate and before the kitchens wake up.
I’m halfway across the courtyard when I catch her scent, a burst of lavender and lightning that lights up my brain like a flash bomb every time.
She's wrapped in the scent of our Pack, sleepy and warm and safe inside Blackgate, and my Alpha growls with satisfaction.
Halley steps out onto the upper landing above the Alpha barracks, wrapped in one of my jackets against the cold. Her hair is a mess from sleep, and through our bond she brushes against me with tired curiosity before tightening into suspicion.
"You’re leaving again," she says, sleepy eyes narrowed.
Rut-damn, she's upset. I can scent the salt of unshed tears threading through the air between us, and I'd much rather she were angry with me than sad.
I look away first, checking the buckles on my pack even though I already checked them twice so I don't have to meet her watery eyes.
Over the last few weeks, the others settled into this new life more easily than I have.
They all seem to have found their purpose.
Knox buried himself in his position as the fortress General with Halley at his side.
Shade created an impressive surveillance grid with Jason.
Blaze has his important recon missions that are invaluable for our continued survival.
Me? I keep going into the mountains.
Halley watches me carefully as I continue to prepare my gear.
"Where do you keep going?" she asks quietly, a hint of hurt in her voice, and my heart clenches. I hate that she's upset with me, but the answer keeps getting stuck in my throat.
I've never been good with words. I usually let my actions do the talking for me.
So, instead of fumbling my way through an explanation, I jerk my chin toward the gate.
"Come with me."
When I hand her a climbing harness, her eyes widen and she looks at me with concern, but I'm focused on making sure she's equipped for the trip ahead.
I've zipped her up in a thick jacket with a fur-lined hood and snow pants, but I'm worried she'll still get cold, so I pull off my woolly hat and tug it down over her braided hair until it covers her pink-tipped ears. My inner Alpha growls with pride seeing our Omega in our scent-drenched hat.
She turns the harness over in her hands, brows pulling together. "Viper? Why do I need this?"
"Put it on."
Halley hesitates, looking at the apparatus and then back at me.
"Trust me, pretty girl."
Her eyes soften, and without another second of hesitation, she steps into the harness.
Obedience isn’t the right word for it, certainly not for Halley, but my Alpha reacts to her show of submission anyway, pleased with the absolute trust my Omega places in me.
I move in close to adjust the fit, tighten the waist a fraction, and check the leg loops. My gloves drag over the curve of her hip as I secure the final buckle.
"You already had one adjusted to my size," she says quietly, with a raised eyebrow.
I don’t answer immediately because there’s no good way to explain that I’ve been preparing for weeks, hoping I’d eventually work up the nerve to convince her to come with me.
Instead, I crouch to secure the laces of her boots. I lash her crampons to my pack, ready for when she'll need them clipped to her boots for grip on the ice later.
I shrug. "Figured you’d need it eventually."
Warmth spreads through the bond, carrying her affection with it, and I know I’ll never tire of feeling how completely she trusts me. Some days, I’m certain I’m the luckiest soldier in Fathim.
I stand and pull my spare gloves from my pocket, pressing them into her hands so she can layer them over hers before the cold can nip at her fingers.
I cock my head at her in a silent question. You still coming?
She squares her jaw and tips her nose in the air with undeniable determination.
That's my girl.
I lead her to the side of the courtyard that butts up against the mountain, open the hidden side gate, and slip through into a narrow gap between the mountain cliff face and the fortress stone walls.
"I didn't know this was here," she says, cheeks flushed from the pre-dawn chill as she follows me through, closing the gate behind her.
"Think that's the point." It's a secret exit in case the fortress is overrun, so that the important officers can escape into the mountains.
It won't ever be used as such while we occupy this fortress.
If the day comes when we are overwhelmed by the enemy, every soul in this fortress will go down with it — fighting 'til the bitter end.
I follow the wall until the cliff breaks and a path appears, a steep climb up that gets brutal fast.
I fix Halley's harness to the rope strung between the anchors I've spent weeks hammering into rock so she'll be safe if she slips.
Quickly, we climb higher than the fortress and into the peaks of the mountain most people think is inaccessible. The sun is rising, casting a glow over the pathway and illuminating our way.
The farther up we go, the colder it gets. Loose shale and ice crunch beneath our boots, a mix of gray and white. Meltwater cuts silver lines through the ice, and wind tears through the narrow passageways, shoving at our balance.
Halley keeps up anyway.
When we first met, she would’ve collapsed halfway through this climb. Now she adjusts her footing instinctively and clips her harness onto the next string of safety rope with no complaint or fear.
Pack Scorch built a soldier out of her after all. Pride settles low and steady in my chest every time she proves it with her quiet determination and skill.
Ahead, the trail narrows into a ledge barely wide enough for one person. I cross first, then turn back toward her.
"Eyes on me," I tell her.
She moves carefully across the ledge while I keep tension on her rope. Wind drags at her jacket, and her boots send loose gravel skittering into the drop below.
Halfway over, her boot slips.
I grasp my anchored safety rope with one hand and throw myself onto the ledge, catching the front of her harness with the other before yanking her against my chest.
Halley yelps and grabs fistfuls of my jacket automatically. A violent spike of fear punches through me at the thought of her falling.
I stumble backward, dragging her with me until I press my back against the stone wall. I wrap my arm around her and hold her tight.
Instinct has me pushing my nose briefly against her hair, breathing her in just to reassure myself she’s here and alive.
Her ragged breathing ghosts warm against my throat and I can feel her heart rabbiting. Mine probably isn’t much steadier as it pounds hard in my chest.
"I had it," she mutters, still gripping my jacket.
"And I had you."
Because I'll always have her back. Always.
I don’t let go straight away. My hand stays curled around her harness while the wind howls around us and her body stays pressed against mine.
As an Alpha, I run warm, and I let my heat pour from me to her even through layers of cold-weather gear.
Halley melts closer automatically, her Omega seeking warmth from mine without either of us thinking about it.
Her cheeks are pink from the climb, eyes bright with adrenaline as she looks up at me.
She's so rut-damn beautiful that sometimes it hurts to look at her knowing that she's mine. My Omega, my mate, my friend, and my lover.
I guide her the rest of the way across the narrow section without taking my hand off her. The bond hums low and warm between us long after solid ground is back beneath her boots.
We climb another quarter mile before her gaze catches on the iron spikes hammered into the rock ahead, then the matching set across the ravine.
Between them hangs the bridge I built from Kevlar rope and steel rods.
Halley studies it and then looks at me for direction. I gesture with my head for her to cross it.
She raises a brow as if daring me to doubt her, and without a hint of trepidation, she steps on.
The ropes creak beneath her weight, swaying as the wind rips up from the drop below. I keep one hand on her line and the other near her back, close enough to catch her, far enough to let her do it herself, until I can't reach her anymore.
I'm starting to think it was a mistake bringing her up here, because my stomach is in my throat as I watch my heart and soul cross a bridge I made from scratch. I'm no engineer.
Every protective instinct inside me screams to drag her back and carry her across myself, but the bridge only holds one person at a time, and on a good day, my size means I count as at least two.
She crosses slowly, boots finding each steel rung, breath steady, shoulders squared against the pull of the wind.
When she reaches the other side, she turns and grins triumphantly at me.
I cross the bridge next, my gloved hands sliding along the guide ropes I've strung as railings.
She watches me, and her eyes move over the anchors, the ropes, the reinforced knots, and the footholds cut into the ice.
She doesn't say anything, but I can see her trying to figure it all out. What have I been doing up here? Why have I built a bridge?
We climb for another few minutes before the last stretch narrows between two walls of stone, blocking everything but sky. Halley’s breathing is loud behind me. She's tired but steady, and the bond is bursting with curiosity.
Then the rocks thin, and it's all revealed.
For a second, she says nothing.
The wind picks up as it rolls across the surrounding cliffs, carrying the cold, clean bite of snow off the mountain peak.
Beneath our feet, the ridgeline drops down, and the mountain falls away to a striking view.
I don’t look at it. I look at her.
Her eyes widen, her lips part, the bond tightens for half a heartbeat before pure hope bursts forth.
Finally, I let myself look too.