Page 74 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

My elbows rest against the wooden deck’s railing as I stare out at the dense trees stretching as far as the eye can see. Sunlight peeks through the branches in soft shimmering rays, highlighting the flecks of dust floating through the forest and the tiny bugs flying in and out of the shadows.

It was this time of year when I left Crescent Lake four years ago—the time of year when it’s warm in the daytime but still cold at night. When it’s cool in the shade even when the sun is at its highest and the shuffling of baby animal feet fills the forest.

There are no animals today, though. Sebastian scared them all away as he ran his laps around the house.

A breeze dances through the branches. I cross my arms tighter against the subtle chill, but I stay in my spot, face tilted towards the sky and eyes scanning the scenery. The vast expanse of green trees and the climbing, rolling mountains both beckon me with their promise of freedom and escape.

I long to shift, to weave around the trunks and sprint up the hills. I yearn to feel the wind tangling my hair and the sun heating my skin. For too long, I’ve been trapped inside, bereft of my free will.

But there’s no stirring of my lycan. No hint of her existence. The mate bond flickers and teases my senses. My dad’s aura reaches for me and searches for mine. But it doesn’t wake my lycan. Neither the presence of my mate nor the arrival of my dad draws her forward.

I’m afraid of what that might mean .

“He’s back.”

I glance over my shoulder at my dad. He sits on a large, cushioned wicker couch. His elbows rest on his knees, and his eyes follow the path of someone in Peter’s house.

“I know,” I reply.

I watched Sebastian as he circled the house.

I kept track of every time he passed within my line of sight until I lost count.

The feathers of his emotions, like the wings of a dove, brushed against the wall of fog trapping our bond, my senses, and my lycan.

He didn’t block them, and if that wall dissipated, if it wasn’t there, his emotions would rock my soul with the intensity of a volcanic eruption.

They’d bend me in half like a wind blowing a palm tree in a torrential rainstorm.

“He went into the kitchen,” my dad informs me.

I face the forest again and nod. My hands slip inside the sleeves of my dad’s navy-blue zip-up hoodie as his footsteps venture closer to me.

I lower my head to stare at the emblem embroidered on the sleeve in gold thread.

The emblem he has tattooed on his chest right over his heart and embroidered somewhere on every item of clothing he owns.

The emblem that will someday find its way onto all of my clothing.

Our emblem. Our family crest.

A shield with a lycan on its hind legs staring up at three stars and the moon cycle.

The Goodrich coat of arms. The symbol of the royal family, of the monarch.

The inevitability of that transfer of power seems more terrifying now than it ever has.

“Sarina?” Dad leans against the railing with me, body angled towards mine and his massive, tattooed arms folded on the wood.

He stays at least a foot away—close enough to reach for my hand or my shoulder to comfort me, but far enough away to give me my space, as he has since I ventured out here after Sebastian stormed off.

“I’m okay.” My voice shakes and cracks.

There’s no way he believes me, but he faces the forest too, staring out at the wildlife and the scenery.

My dad just…stands with me.

He sat out here with me as I watched Sebastian. He said nothing to me, not until he told me Sebastian was back inside the house. My dad’s silence and presence comfort me, and yet at the same time, they add to my distress.

I can’t bring myself to face him .

I don’t want to face any of them.

None of them can possibly understand the choices I had to make to save myself. Except maybe Sebastian.

“He’ll come around,” my dad says, somehow knowing exactly who I’m thinking about.

Then again, who else would I be thinking about right now? It’s not like he didn’t have some semblance of an idea of what Sebastian was to me.

I shrug one shoulder. “He’s pretty upset.”

Upset. Understatement of the year.

I can’t blame him.

“I should have pulled your team four years ago.”

I whip my head towards my dad. His attention is locked on my neck, on the scarring that wraps around it.

Those scars will never fade. They’ll be a constant reminder of everything I went through, of all I endured.

“Dad—”

“If I’d brought you home, none of this would have happened.”

“If you’d brought me home, we wouldn’t have the leads we have now.”

“Those leads aren’t worth what they cost you! They’re not worth what they almost cost me.” Tears line his lids, and his voice breaks with his words, both bringing fresh tears to my eyes as well. “What happened?” he asks. “How did they get you?”

I scratch at my nose. My dad’s soft hoodie holds hints of his familiar scent and the scents of home: the ocean, the sunset, and the palm trees, of my mom, and even Micah.

The tears pool faster. “We tried to set a trap, but they set one too. I was bait and—” I bite my lip and shake my head, focusing on reporting the facts as if this is just a regular debriefing.

“The drinks at the club were poured with a heavy hand. I ran as fast as I could, but there were too many of them. They were faster and stronger, and they drugged me. I—” I stare out at the trees and away from him as I spit out the rest of my words.

“It’s my fault. I miscalculated. I messed up. ”

“Sarina, no—”

He moves towards me, hands outstretched to grab me.

I flinch and duck, darting away from his touch.

A small yelp flies from my lips, and I cower, hugging my stomach with one hand and gripping the railing with the other, as my heart rate escalates and my chest heaves with each quickened breath I take.

The wood digs into my skin. Tiny splinters pierce my flesh.

I shake my head, my eyes shut tight. “ Por favor… ” I plead.

The back door slams against the wall, and my eyes fly open, clashing with the cloudy gray of Sebastian’s eyes. The others—his friends and mine—file out the door, giving him a wide berth.

I see only him.

He holds my gaze for a moment before scanning me from head to toe.

He still wears only the sweatpants he put on last night and nothing else.

A thin sheen of sweat coats his bare torso, highlighting his toned muscles.

He’s gained more definition, more strength, in the four years we’ve been apart.

But he’s kept his lean build—a build that’s always made him seem taller than he actually is.

He’ll never have the intimidating, broad-shouldered stature that some shifters have, but I know what he’s capable of.

I’ve seen it in action, when he snapped Lou’s neck and knocked Lennox out without breaking a sweat or batting an eyelash.

I tremble and press myself harder against the railing, holding myself back from sprinting to Sebastian and diving into his arms. My natural instincts to cling to him and seek him out as my mate battle with the brainwashed urge to submit to him as his property.

My memories and my nightmares from captivity clash, and I can’t differentiate between the two, can’t determine which Sebastian is in front of me—the cruel one, who delights in my misery, or Sebby.

My Sebby. The one who takes care of me and makes me beautiful promises.

The one who loves me.

Those raging, storm cloud eyes move from me to my dad, whose hand grips the railing almost as tightly as mine does.

“I’m sorry,” my dad murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“What happened?” Sebastian asks with the hint of a growl, glancing between us.

I shake my head and bite my lip. My eyes lower to my feet. I’m too afraid and too ashamed to explain in front of my dad why I reacted the way I did.

“I moved too fast,” my dad says. “I tried to hug her, and I scared her.”

Sebastian takes slow steps forward until he’s right in front of me .

I swallow and lift my chin. His expression reveals nothing to me. Nothing about what he’s thinking or what he’s feeling. The muted bond is inaccessible to me, blocked off by him or maybe my fear. The only thing I sense is an underlying urgency.

“Are you all right?” Sebastian dips his face closer to mine so we’re on the same level.

Am I all right?

I don’t have an answer. I don’t even know what ‘all right’ means anymore.

“Are you all right?” I repeat his question back to him so I don’t have to respond.

His jaw clenches, and he rests his hands on his hips. “Amara called the club. She needs to meet with me.”

His attention remains on me, but his volume raises so everyone can hear the bomb he drops.

My heart lodges itself in my throat. Amara’s cruel, taunting face flashes into existence, and her sugary-sweet voice chimes through my mind as clear as a bell, echoing all her fake niceties and false assurances.

“What are you going to do?” my dad asks.

Sebastian tears his gaze away from me and stares at him for a long moment before he answers. “I’m going to meet with her.”

Behind Sebastian, Reid gapes at him. “But—”

“It’s better to meet with her on our terms, when we’re expecting her,” Sebastian explains over his shoulder. “If I turn her down, she may just show up anyway, and we won’t be prepared. Our entire ruse could blow up in our faces.”

A glimmer of approval and pride shines in my dad’s eyes for the briefest moment as he watches Sebastian take charge. It’s gone in a flash, but he gives me a quick wink.

I try to smile back, but I can’t. This isn’t about Sebastian accepting and stepping into his role as my mate, as the future king.

This is about the mission. Sebastian is only thinking about the mission, about finishing what I started, what Dominic and the others dragged him and the rest of his pack into.

“I’m going to head to the club now,” Sebastian continues, “so I can call Amara back, set the meeting up for tonight, and get everything in place before she arrives. I’ll need a team. Whoever is willing, be ready to leave in ten minutes.”

Our friends disperse, most of them heading back into the house.

Sebastian stares after them, his eyes vacant as that brilliant, cunning brain of his thinks through his plan .

When the back door closes, Sebastian spins towards me again. Dominic and Riven linger, as does my dad, but they leave us alone, standing off to the far end of the massive, raised deck behind Peter’s house.

As Sebastian draws nearer, my body relaxes, soothed by his authoritative presence. Part of it is that submissive response that Amara took great care to train into me, but I don’t care. I need him to take charge right now.

Because I can’t.

I step closer to him, releasing the railing, only now realizing the edge was digging into my lower back with how hard I leaned against it.

Sebastian shoves his hands in his pockets, and I peer up at him, tilting my chin as high as I can. He towers over me, but I’ve always felt safest within the shadow of his height.

“I hate to do this so soon after…everything.”

He lowers his voice again. When he speaks to me like that—in that low, intimate tone—I can almost imagine it’s just the two of us. I can almost pretend there isn’t a doubt in my mind about where we stand.

“It will help my ruse if you’re with me when I meet with her.”

My eyes widen, and a broken whimper escapes me.

Sebastian steps closer, until our bodies are separated by an inhale, and he grips my upper arms. “I won’t make you do it if you can’t. I will never force you to do anything .”

He subtly rubs my arms as he waits for my response.

I don’t know if it’s for my sake or his, or both.

It could be the bond or his lycan influencing his actions.

But I soak it in. I’ll take whatever he gives me for as long as he is mine because I don’t know how long I have left with him.

If he never forgives me, I will understand.

If he wants to reject me, I will understand.

If this meeting is the last time I get to be his, if this is the beginning of the end…

I stare into his unreadable gray eyes. Even though I long to fall to the ground, curl into a ball, and hide myself away from everything and everyone, I nod. “I can do it.”