Chapter 28 #2
“I don’t understand,” I say. My voice sounds thin in the night air. “What the fuck is going on?”
Seth is standing by the fence. He looks sick. “It’s the parasite,” he says. “It’s killing them.”
“It’s killing them fast,” Dr. Miller says, pulling off his gloves. “Too fast. This strain is aggressive.”
I look at the dead calf being loaded onto a stretcher. I think about Sedona. Lying in the bunkhouse with the same fever.
Is this what’s happening to her? Is she burning up like this? Is she going to seize and die while we stand here?
Fear, cold and sharp, slices through my chest.
“I hate this,” I whisper. “I fucking hate this.”
Billy turns away. He walks toward the truck. He doesn’t look back.
We follow. No one speaks. There’s nothing to say.
The drive back to the house is silent. The headlights sweep over the pasture, illuminating the empty space where the cattle should be grazing peacefully. Instead, it’s a war zone.
When we get back to the house, the porch light is on. Jasper is sitting on the steps, hugging his knees. He looks up when we approach, hope dying in his eyes when he sees our faces.
“Did you… did you save it?” he asks.
“No,” Seth says shortly.
He walks past Jasper and into the house. Billy follows, kicking his boots off on the porch.
I wait outside for a moment and look toward the bunkhouse. The light is on in the window. A silhouette moves behind the curtain. Clara.
I want to go over there. I want to knock on the door and ask if she’s okay. I want to tell her about the calf. I want to warn her.
But I can’t. I’m covered in death. I smell like it.
I go inside.
Seth is in the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out three beers. He twists the caps off and hands one to Billy, then holds one out to me.
“Drink,” he says.
“We’re not supposed to,” Jasper says from the doorway. His voice is small. “The doctors said no alcohol. It might interfere with the incubation.”
Seth looks at the beer in his hand. He looks at Jasper.
“We just watched a calf die a horrific death,” Seth says. “We’re under quarantine. Our ranch is being destroyed. If I want a damn beer, I’m having a damn beer.”
He takes a long swallow. He doesn’t offer one to Jasper.
I take the beer. The cold condensation feels good in my palm. I drink. The bitter hops wash away the taste of dirt and fear.
Billy stands by the sink. He’s staring out the window into the dark. He hasn’t touched his beer.
“You okay, man?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He’s rigid. His spine is a straight line.
“It’s like COVID,” Jasper says. He’s trying to fill the silence. “My cousin in the city said it was like this. People dying alone. No one knowing what to do. Just… waiting.”
“This isn’t a virus, Jasper,” Seth says wearily. “It’s a parasite.”
“It feels the same,” Jasper insists. “The fear. The suits. The tape.”
He’s right. It does feel the same. That helpless, suffocating feeling of the world closing in.
Billy turns around. He sets his beer on the counter. It makes a sharp clink sound.
“Something is wrong,” he says, and his voice is rough.
“What do you mean?” Seth asks.
“With Sedona.”
My stomach drops. I grip my beer bottle tighter.
“What do you mean?” I repeat.
Billy looks at me. His eyes are dark, troubled. He sniffs the air. It’s a subtle gesture, an instinctual one.
“I can smell her,” he says. “From here. Even through the sickness.”
“And?” Seth prompts.
Billy shakes his head. He looks confused. He looks… scared.
“It’s changing,” he says. “Her scent.”
“Changing how?” I ask and step closer.
Billy looks down at his hands. He rubs his thumb over his knuckles.
“It’s sweeter,” he says. “Like… honey. And something floral. Underneath the cedar.”
He looks up at us.
“I know that sounds crazy,” he mutters. “But it’s different. It’s stronger. It’s pulling at me.”
I exchange a look with Seth. He looks confused too.
“Maybe it’s the fever,” Jasper suggests. “Sweat changes body odor.”
Billy shakes his head. “No. It’s not just sweat.”
He pauses. He takes a breath, like he’s trying to catch the scent again. His pupils dilate slightly.
“I’ve smelled it before,” he says quietly. “Years ago.”
My heart stops.
I know where this is going. I know what he’s going to say. My own body tenses, responding to the implication.
“When?” Seth asks.
Billy looks at the floor.
“When she used to go into heat,” he says.
The words hang in the air.
Heat.
Seth freezes. Jasper’s eyes widen.
“I could be wrong,” Billy says quickly. “It’s been five years. And she’s sick. Maybe I’m imagining it. But…”
He looks toward the bunkhouse.
The room spins.
Sedona. In heat. Here. Trapped in a tiny bunkhouse. Surrounded by us.
I look at Seth. His face is pale. His hand is gripping the counter so hard his knuckles are white.
If Billy is right… if she is in heat…
This isn’t just a quarantine anymore. This is a powder keg. And we are the matches.
“Are you sure?” Seth asks. His voice is strained.
“No,” Billy says. “I’m not sure. But my instincts are screaming at me. And I can’t… I can’t stay away.”
He pushes off the counter. He heads for the door.
“Billy, wait,” Seth says.
“I have to check on her,” Billy growls. He doesn’t stop. “If she’s going into heat while she’s sick… if she’s alone…”
He yanks the door open and storms out into the night.
Seth and I follow.
The night air is cool, the moon hidden behind clouds. The only light comes from the bunkhouse window.
We watch Billy walk across the yard. He moves with purpose, his stride long and determined. He looks like a man possessed.
Or a man answering a call.
I stand on the porch. The beer is still in my hand, forgotten. The cold seeps into my bones.
“She can’t be,” I whisper. “She has to be on suppressants.”
“Meds fail,” Seth says. His voice is hollow. “Especially with other drugs in the system.”
I look at him, and the realization hits me hard.
If she’s in heat, every Alpha instinct in us is going to go haywire. It’s biology. It’s primal. It doesn’t care about consent or past history or brotherhood.
It’s a chemical war, and we’re right on the front line.
Billy reaches the bunkhouse steps. He pauses. He takes a deep breath before raising his hand to knock.
The door swings open. Clara stands there wearing a mask and looking exhausted. Her hair is a mess. The look she has in her eyes scares me. Terror.
“Billy,” she says. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I need to see her,” Billy says. “Clara, I can smell it.”
Clara glances back into the room. She blocks the doorway.
“She’s sleeping,” Clara lies. It’s a bad lie. I can see the tremor in her hands.
“Move,” Billy says. It’s not a request. It’s an Alpha command. The resonance is deep, vibrating in my chest.
Clara flinches. She steps aside, and Billy walks in.
Seth and I stay on the porch. We don’t follow. We can’t. It feels like crossing a line.
But I can see through the open door.
The room is dim. The air inside is heavy.
And the smell hits me.
It rolls out of the open door like a wave. Sweet, cloying, intoxicating.
Honey. Cedar. Omega.
Billy was right.
It’s a heat.
And as I stand there, breathing it in, I feel it happen. A spark in my lower belly. A tightening in my chest. My blood starts to heat up.
Shit.
I look at Seth. He’s staring into the room, his pupils blown wide. He’s breathing hard.
“Seth,” I hiss. “Don’t.”
He blinks. He tears his gaze away. He looks at me. His eyes are wild.
“Get Jasper inside,” Seth manages. “Lock the doors.”
“What about Billy?”
Seth looks back at the bunkhouse. “Billy’s already gone.”
I turn and grab Jasper, who is standing behind us, trying to see what’s happening.
“Get in the house,” I tell him.
“But—”
“Now!”
I shove him toward the door.
I take one last look at the bunkhouse. The door is closing. The smell is fading, but it’s already in my head. In my veins.
I close the door of the main house. I lean my back against it.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
The calf died today. And tonight, the heat is rising.
We’re trapped in hell. And the devil just walked through the door.