12 - Greta


    Ugh, this guy is seriously irritating. We''ve been trekking for nearly forty-five minutes, and not a single word hase from him. I thought he was supposed to be guiding me through the terrain, not just taking a slow, aimless walk.


    "Finn!” I hiss, barely able to keep my voice down. "What exactly are you doing? We need a solid n and to properly scout this area. Talk to me what''s the move?" I break into a quiet jog, closing the distance between us.


    He nces back without slowing. "I''m leading you to the spot by the stream where we used to gather water. I didn''t think you needed a y-by-ymentary. No one''s been traveling through here at least, I can tell by the smell. You can smell it too, right? No need to discuss it." He shrugs casually and keeps walking. "You''re a trained warrior; I assumed you could handle basic observations on your own."


    I bite back a growl, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "How many people were living in the area you cleared? Did you follow specific paths? How long were you stationed here? We need to have a n in case we get separated or if we run into trouble."


    "That''s something you should have brought up before we left, if it''s such a big concern." He doesn''t slow down. "For now, we''re just winging it. You''re a fighter, and so am I. If we get separated, head back to the cabin—but take a long route. Isn''t that stuff drilled into you during your fancy warrior training?" He tosses the words over his shoulder like a challenge.


    "Yeah, asshole," I snap back. “I''m not used to working with someone who can''t mindlink and is on their first mission. I''ve only fought alongside you once, and most of that time I was telling you to get off your ass and help out. We can''t just wing this. Rory needs intel, not for you toe back in a body bag."


    "I''ve survived this long. I think I''ve proven to more than just you that I can handle myself." He shoots me a look over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, you had me kneeling in handcuffs just before you asked me for help."


    "I had the enemy in cuffs. That''s all." I match his gaze. "If memory serves, you were released by me to fight on our side."


    "You only let me go because the Luna told you to. Don''t pretend it was your decision. She made you do it because she wasn''t about to ask her mate. I''m lucky she believed me, or he would have torn my head off when I surrendered." "That was her doing too."


    "I know. Even the enemy needs someone watching their back, right? Even if it''s not someone from their own side." Hisugh is dry, self-mocking. But there''s something else, something deeper in the tone.


    I open my mouth to respond, but he suddenly stops right in front of me. I run straight into his broad back, barely able to stop myself. I try not to think about the fact that I''m pressed against his bare skin. "Finn?!" I start, but before I can finish, he reaches behind and pulls me close, pressing my face against him. "Fi..." His grip tightens as the wind shifts, and suddenly I catch the scent. The rogues are close.


    He''s too tall for me to seefortably over his shoulder, but I can''t resist trying. I feel his chest rise and fall steadily with his breath calm, controlled, but ready. He''s not panicked, but he''s definitely bracing for a fight. There''s no way the rogues have spotted us and haven''t made a move, yet here we are, stuck in a vulnerable spot.


    Taking a risk, I peek over one shoulder. Through the dense, rough forest, I spot arge bonfire, roughly thrown together. The only thing stopping it from setting the forest aze is the time of year. It''ste fall, and this season has been unusually wet, soaking the ground and dampening the mes.