Chapter 20
Rogue Camp
Alexa
I cough, blinking several times, trying to clear the blur clinging to my vision. My hand lifts, rubbing my eyes again and again, but there’s still no light, nothing but darkness pressing back.
I lift myself slightly. Sleeping facedown is painful. Stiff from the position, pain shoots through my neck and spine, stealing my breath.
“Oh, damn,” I mutter in a rough whisper.
I bite down on my lower lip, fighting the ache as my hand creeps up my neck. Gauze. Layers of bandages. When I try to move higher, to reach the wound on my back, a sharp sting stops me cold.
“Damn, girl, quit it,” Mythril snaps with an irritated howl. “You wanna pass out again or what?”
I abandon the idea and push myself upright with both elbows. My eyelids flutter, adjusting to the dimness, until the shape of my body finally comes into focus as a shadow against the tent wall.
I’m not on a bed. Beneath me is a thin sleeping bag laid over a plastic tarp, small pebbles pressing painfully into me. The tarp lies directly against the ground.
It’s a camping tent. Definitely not one of Alastair’s.
A jacket lies over my bare feet. The familiar scent of mint and pine wraps around me, grounding me, loosening the tightness in my chest. I pull it on without thinking, covering my body that’s wrapped only in a flannel shirt.
I unzip the tent down to my calves and step outside. My breath catches instantly.
“Oh, my Goddess,” I whisper.
I stand on a small hill overlooking a wide, open valley. A handful of tents are scattered across the land, faint campfires flickering in front of each one. The night sky stretches endlessly above us, stars dusting the darkness in quiet brilliance. The moon hangs heavy and golden, nearly full.
A familiar scent drifts closer. My gaze drops.
“Oh,” Harlow says, clearly caught staring.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he replies.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
The anger that once carved his expression is gone. His face is clean, calm, free of blood. Only faint scars remain, already fading. His hair has dried, thick dark-brown strands falling softly around his face. His beard and mustache are neatly trimmed.
He sits with his knees bent, hands resting on them. His flannel shirt stretches slightly across his arms.
He clears his throat. “You feeling any better?” His voice is gentle. “You oughta rest more.”
“Uh, were you the one who treated me?” I sit beside him, brushing aside the pain looming behind my ribs, close enough that our elbows brush.
“Yeah. I’m the only healer around,” he says with a small shrug.
“I see. Thank you. For saving me.”
“No trouble.”
My eyes flicker to our surroundings. It’s real open wilderness, the kind that breathes freely. The cool spring air makes it almost perfect for a night like this.
“What is this place?”
“A rogue camp. Far from Southern Star and Alastair.” He tosses a piece of wood into the fire.
“How far?” I ask quietly.
“Four hours by a regular car. Three if you’re riding in some busted-up Rider van.”
“How long have I been unconscious?” I ask.
“A full day.”
“Wow,” I murmur, eyes lifting back to the sky. “I can’t believe transforming into Mythril might suck my energy dry like that.”
“It’s okay. You’ll get used to it if you train to shift more.”
“Is this camp permanent?” I ask, turning toward him.
“Not really, but we keep a light mist barrier up. Marks the territory. Still get creatures sneaking through, though.” He nods toward the trees. A dead fox’s skin hangs from one of the branches, a grim trophy from a small trap.
I swallow and look back at the fire. “So, you’ve been living here the past few years?” I ask carefully.
“Hm. Not quite like that,” he says. “I moved around the region. Only settled down for a year once I met them.” He tilts his chin toward the large bonfire burning farther ahead.
That explains yesterday. Why Harlow and Jack were camping near First Light territory. Why they move through the wilderness like it’s second nature.
“But yesterday, you were near First Light,” I say.
He stays quiet. His gaze drops, then he chuckles softly, dimples flashing as he shakes his head.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“What?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head again.
“It’s okay. You can tell me,” I say gently, my fingers brushing his arm. “I keep wondering how we ran into each other yesterday. You saved me again.”
He presses his lips together, then exhales slowly before turning to me. “You never did change,” he says quietly. “Always coming to me when things bug your mind.”
“Please,” I whisper.
He looks at me for a moment. His dark eyes are soft now, warm, nothing like the fury he shows in battle. It feels like comfort, like something safe and familiar.
“I’ve been dreaming about you all week,” he admits.
My breath catches. My own dream from last night flashes through my mind. The Moon Goddess. The pull I can’t explain.
“You’ve been dreaming about me?” I repeat.
Firelight tinges his face red. He clears his throat and looks away.
“Hell. That came out wrong,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair with an awkward chuckle.
Heat rushes to my face. The fire crackles, wood collapsing into embers, while my heartbeat pounds loud enough that I swear he can hear it.
“If it’s wrong, I don’t wanna be right,” Mythril laughs.
“Stop it. His wolf can hear you,” I warn.
“Good. He’s my mate anyway,” Mythril replies easily.
My face burns hotter as I drop my gaze. That’s when I realize it.
Oh my Goddess. I’m not wearing a bra. I’m pretty sure I’m wearing warm underwear beneath the slightly oversized pants, though I have no idea whose pants these are. The red-and-black tartan flannel is also too big on me. If Harlow treated my back because he’s the only healer here, then…
“I swear, I didn’t mean it like some wet dream or anything,” Harlow says quickly. “It was just a silhouette that looked like you. I thought it was you. You were standing by the river, waving at me. That’s it.”
He keeps talking, then swallows hard, the words catching in his throat. He’s panicking. Honestly, I’m panicking about something else entirely, but I don’t dare ask.
What if he’s the one who changed my clothes? That would be—
“That would be sexy!” Mythril squeals, thrilled.
“Ugh, it’s embarrassing,” I blurt out, flustered, aiming the words more at Mythril than at Harlow.
“Oh,” Harlow says, startled. “I’m sorry.”
No. Wrong. Again.
I shake my head fast, waving my hands. “It’s okay. Really. I’m not thinking about it anymore. I get that it wasn’t anything like that, so…” I force out a small laugh.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah. Alright then.” He lets out a stiff chuckle.
Silence settles between us again. I cover my mouth, smiling behind my hand. Harlow doesn’t say anything more. He lowers his face, resting it against his arm. The firelight is kind enough to hide the fact that both of our faces are flushed.
The flames flicker in rhythm with the May night wind. Wood smoke drifts through the air, blending with the mint and pine beside me. I draw my knees up and rest my chin on them, mostly to keep myself from leaning my head against his arm.
“So,” Harlow says after a moment, leaning slightly to get a better look at me. “What were you doing near First Light territory?”
It seems we’ve both decided to shove the embarrassment aside and pretend everything’s normal. I clear my throat.
“There was an accident at the club,” I say, turning toward him. “So I took shelter with the First Light Pack for a bit.”
“An accident?”
“Alpha Alastair found me that night.” I let out a slow breath.
Harlow winces. “That’s messed up. I’m sorry. I really thought that place was the safest spot for rogues like us.”
“It is,” I say quickly. “I got stronger there. That club helped me a lot. It’s just… the Moon Goddess shoved him right back into my path. So Mr. Moris had a friend in First Light keep an eye on me for a while.”
It isn’t a lie. I’m just leaving out one detail that feels too personal to say out loud.
Harlow’s hands clench. His jaw tightens. “Does that happen often?” he asks, tension creeping into his voice.
“No. Yesterday was the first time in six years. Southern Star hiding me all that time, that’s quite a record.”
He goes quiet, mulling it over. His brow stays furrowed, and I can’t quite read what’s bothering him. “Guess everything really is set by the Moon Goddess,” he mutters. “Every damn thing, timed just right.”
“What do you mean?”
He looks at me for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you know why I found you earlier near Southern Star? Why that small pack went after you?”
“I figured they were Alastair’s men,” I say, scoffing. “He lied.”
“No,” Harlow says. “He didn’t.”
I freeze.
“It was Alpha Gabriel.”
My eyes widen. Panic and guilt slam into my chest at once, heavy and suffocating. My thoughts spiral back to yesterday. The argument. The Alpha collapsing. Mr. Moris lifting his shotgun and aiming it straight at me.
“Yesterday morning, he issued a bounty for you. Anyone who can provide accurate information and help bring you to him gets rewarded with a hundred grand.”
My heart sinks as the words hit me. Harlow keeps talking while my mind goes completely blank. Mythril grows restless too, stirring sharply the moment she hears him.
“Every pack member gets the flyer. They even spread it to Omegas who already turned rogue.” Harlow pulls out his phone and shows me the chain message.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, snatching the phone from his hand and reading the announcement carefully.
“Jack got it from an old friend. He recognized you and told me. I got worried, so I brought him to Southern Star. Then I saw you jumping across rooftops, so I followed you.”
I shudder. Gabriel is looking for me and offering that much money. For what?
“Goddess, this is bad,” I mutter, rubbing my temple as I stare at my photo from my small seventeenth birthday celebration.
“That’s why I don’t think you can stay at that club anymore,” he says quietly.
“His methods are awful, yes, but he wants you back because he loves you,” Mythril argues, and I shut her down immediately.
“Stop it, Mythril. This is too much. I don’t want to hear anything about that mate nonsense from you anymore. I’m rejecting him.”
I push her out of my thoughts. She retreats into silence at the corner of my mind.
“You’re right,” I say, gripping Harlow’s phone before handing it back. “I need to get as far away from that place as possible.”
“Yeah, especially now that you can actually control your wolf, right?”
“You know about that?” I ask, blinking in surprise.
“My wolf told me. Yours isn’t chained anymore. She’s running on full power. Wait, no. Something’s off with her.” He pauses, studying my face.
“Low energy? Unstable mental power?”
“Is it because you gave part of her to Jo?” he questions.
“You guessed it right.” I shrug and sigh.
“And now you’re telling her to shut up?”
“Oh. That’s because…” I bite my lower lip.
I don’t want to tell him. He might find me disgusting for having so many potential mates at once. Nothing like this has ever happened in our history.
I swallow hard, bracing myself for his judgment, even though none of this is my choice. This mess is the Moon Goddess’s doing, not me being too friendly with men or anything.
“My wolf, Mythril, still defends Alpha Gabriel because she thinks he’s…” My voice falters, my heart pounding hard against my ribs.
“Because he’s your mate, right?” he scoffs.
I hold my breath, then finally let out a long sigh and nod. “Yeah. But I’m rejecting him.”
“Why?” he asks. “Wouldn’t it be easier to go back to him? You could be Luna of the Silver Moon Pack, same as your mom. Hell, he might even pay Alpha Alastair to back off.”
My jaw tightens, my thoughts spiraling to my feelings for Harlow ever since he saved me from prison. Can’t he feel it too?
“What about us?”
My chest aches as my heart pounds painfully against it. Maybe I’ve crossed a line. Even to me, my ties to all these Alphas feel strange. Something feels different with Harlow, but he doesn’t seem to feel it at all.
He stares at me in silence. His gaze turns cold, distant. In a heartbeat, he’s back behind his walls.
“There’s no us. Not like that.”