Eden stood on the mesh platform as the reivers in Rimside slowly lowered them into the enormous canyon in a rickety elevator cage that looked like it had been repurposed from an old mine shaft. CJ pressed against the walls, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow as they were slowly winched down. Sweat darkened his temples and he refused to talk to her as they descended, merely shaking his head and focusing on his breathing.

Afraid of heights. Huh. I'd have never guessed.

Not that she could entirely blame him. It wasn't as though she was looking down at the expanse that dropped away beneath the mesh. Nope. Far better to keep her gaze fixed on the horizon and pretend they weren't a mile over nothing.

She'd gotten her first true glimpse of the Divide this morning, while Colton paid the bribes. The massive escarpment sliced through the land as though two enormous hands had wrenched the earth apart when the meteor hit over seventy years ago. Sheer cliffs dropped into the enormous canyon and she could see the ripple of undulating tors sticking up here and there within it. If she squinted she could just make out the other edge, miles away.

And that was where they were going.

But first, they had to cross the treacherous Divide. Nobody lived down there. Nothing human anyway. Few people even ventured within it, unless they were desperate. Fewer still made it across.

For the first time, she was grateful CJ had talked her into bringing Johnny Colton.

"Are you ready?" Colton murmured, and Eden realized he was watching her face and no doubt reading all her nerves.

He'd been dressed when she woke that morning, but his dark hair had stuck up in patches, and his eyes had been sleepy. Morning Colton was a sight to behold. He'd also kept to his word last night and hadn't made a move toward her.

She locked down her expression, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. "More than ready. How long is it going to take to cross this canyon?"

"Two or three days. If we're lucky. And maybe another once we're out. Depends on how well this crossing goes."

Three or four days. Plus the two she'd already been traveling for. She could hear the clock ticking down in her head.

Six days to get to Cortez City, at the most. She'd been banking on five. Then she had to locate the facility Chin had warned her about, and somehow extract enough of the plague cure and a vaccine to protect the rest of her people, before heading back.

They wouldn't make it in time.

The world blurred in front of her, and her lungs squeezed. She couldn't breathe.

"Kneel," Colton said sharply, his hand curling around the back of her neck. The heat of his touch broke through the icy chains that bound her heart as Eden went to her knees.

Colton squatted beside her. "It's okay. Just breathe."

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"I'm just... having a moment."

His thumb traced the line of muscle that curved beneath the base of her skull. Tension pulled there and Eden bowed her head as he squeezed gently. Oh, God. That felt incredibly good. She gave into the sensation, trying to still her racing heart.

"We'll cross the Great Divide, angel."

"I know. I will not fail," Eden said, lifting her head to stare out over the divide as the reivers above cranked them slowly down the cliff. She couldn't afford to. The shivery cold feeling running through her proved stark counterpoint to her words. "Whatever it takes."

"I believe you." Colton's voice sounded like a rough-edged purr, his knee close enough for her to rest her hand on.

If she wanted to.

Eden looked up beneath the brim of his black Stetson.

His expression tightened, but not before she'd seen something else in his eyes. Something she hadn't expected to see. She couldn't quite decipher the expression, but the softness of it, the emotion....

"You'd kick Satan in the teeth if you had to," he muttered. "You're going to drag me across this hellforsaken wasteland, then kick down the doors of the Confederacy and fuck up those arrogant smirks who sent this devastation west. You're going to bring that cure back to your people. I know you are."

"Language," she chided. The iron band around her lungs finally faded.

"Pardon." He sounded slightly amused.

Eden bowed her head, his hand softening on her nape as one thumb stroked the smooth skin there. Suddenly it wasn't a shiver of cold chilling her spine, but a lashing of pure heat.

"You've got this," Colton told her.

"I've got this."

Because failure wasn't an option.

She was Eden McClain, and she'd fought through blood and hell to bring babies into this world when they'd never had a chance, and to pull men back from death's door through pure willpower alone. She'd been born into a world that kicked the feet out from beneath those who faltered, and if she weakened now, then she might as well give up on all hope.

Eden pushed to her feet, taking in a slow, determined breath. "How long is it going to take to get down?"

"Two hours. Maybe. Then we've got another nine until nightfall." Colton brushed his jeans off, straightening to his full height beside her, but he was staring down at her strangely.

"What?"

"Nothing," Colton said, grabbing the rope beside CJ and staring down as if didn't have a care in the world.

* * *

The second they made camp and ate a quick meal of canned beans and salted beef, Eden crashed.

Johnny heard her breathing soften as the firelight flickered over her face and tangle of chestnut curls. He'd pushed them hard that day, trying to put some distance between them and the base of Rimside, where the predators would be lurking, and she'd started flagging a couple of hours before sunset.

Not that she was going to let him know that.

Stubborn bloody woman. He'd seen her examining the back of her heel when she poured sand out of her boots. Blisters, no doubt. But she hadn't complained once, and she'd insisted on carrying her own pack all day.

It helped, since he needed his hands free just in case anything came at them, but he couldn't help shaking his head. He'd have to keep an eye on her. He appreciated the lack of bitching, but he didn't want her dropping of heatstroke or dehydration because she didn't want to mention it.

Whatever it takes, she'd said earlier, and he knew Eden McClain was going to keep to that oath, come hell or high water.

Sometimes, when he looked at her, he got this rush of blood through his veins, as if her determination spurred him to new heights. He'd been drinking his life away in a rat hole, while she was battling to save lives. Made a man pause and rethink his situation.

"I'll take the watch," he said, nodding toward the kid. "Get some sleep. We break camp at dawn."

Night. A bloated moon rose in the sky above, barely days away from showing its entire face to the world.

The perfect time for monsters to come out to play.

Finding a good location to keep an eye on the camp, he eased onto a log, bringing out his hunting knife and a small branch to keep his hands busy.

Within twenty minutes, pebbles skittered down the rock face of the boulder Johnny rested his back against. He tilted his head, but he'd heard Cole starting in his direction minutes ago. Wasn't as if the young man could sneak up on him.

"Something on your mind, kid? You should get some sleep while you can."

The young warg squatted beside him, staring out into the night. "Kind of too wired to sleep," Cole admitted, scraping a hand over the back of his skull. "I tried."

"It's your fight or flight response going haywire," he murmured, shooting a glance toward the mound where Eden slept. "Over time you'll be able to control it better. Wargs don't cope well with putting themselves in danger or unknown circumstances. Too much increased adrenaline."

And they were already pumped full of hormones as it was. A little bit extra tended to tip the scales in the wrong direction. He'd have to keep an eye on Cole and make sure he was keeping his aggression under control.

The wind whispered through the narrow canyon, bringing with it a hint of long-distant warg song. Cole's scent sharpened and his nostrils flared. Johnny tilted his head, his muscles tensing, but there was no scent on the breeze and there'd been no fresh warg tracks today. He forced himself to relax, unclenching each muscle one at a time.

In the darkness of the night the kid's heart raced.

Johnny clasped his hand around the young man's shoulder and squeezed. "There's nothing out there. Breathe in and out. Let it go. Or you'll wear yourself out before you even need that extra hit of juice."

Cole's chest expanded. "Your scent just changed."

"Yeah." I'll bet it did.

"You smell exactly like you did yesterday in that alley."

"Do I?" He really didn't want to be having this conversation, but he'd expected it.

"How did you do it?" Cole asked.

"How'd I do what?"

Cole hesitated. "You made those dogs cringe before you, but I felt it too. I was on my knees before I could even think about it."

Hell.

"Okay, I'm going to have to go back a few steps if you're to understand any of this. You got it?"

Cole nodded.

"As far as I know, wargs were created pre-Darkening by the government of the time. They were trying to create some sort of elite super-soldier unit in their military. I don't know all the details, but when the meteor hit all hell broke loose, including some of their test subjects."

"Someone created this nightmare?" Cole blurted. "Deliberately?"

"Ground troops who could survive practically anything, heal from most injuries, and were faster, stronger, and owned better senses? Hell, yeah. Of course they created it. I believe the idea was to manufacture a top-secret military unit that could wipe out anything."

"Didn't they consider the ramifications?"

"Some humans like to mess with Mother Nature. Think they can control it. Or maybe they didn't care? Maybe they thought the technology was there, and if they didn't create it, then some other country or faction might get a head start on them."

"I would like to punch those people in the face," the boy muttered.

"You don't like being a warg?"

The kid looked at him like he had two heads. "No, I don't like hearing my mom's heart racing and knowing there's a small part of me that sits up and takes notice and thinks, prey. I don't like being looked at by all my former friends as if they're just waiting for me to lose my shit and rip them to pieces. Not too keen on turning furry, at all." His fist clenched around the amulet around his throat. "I spend every day praying this never leaves my throat. It's the only thing that keeps me safe. That keeps my friends and family safe from me."

Johnny tugged his shirt open, revealing a similar wolf's head talisman. "My grandfather made them. He was of the Lakota people." Reaching behind his neck, he started to lift it off. "It's a talisman to ward away evil spirits. These were created for my aunts and uncles, and passed down through my family. Reminds me of Grandfather sometimes."

But that was all it did.

"What are you doing?" Cole squeaked, rising to a crouch.

Johnny dropped the talisman into his palm, meeting the kid's eyes. Then he gently placed it on the ground beside him.

The kid's breath caught, and he reached for the hilt of his knife, his heartbeat accelerating.

Johnny drew his knees up in front of him, resting one hand laxly on the right one. "I'm not going to go furry. You can relax."

Cole seemed frozen in place. "You can't.... I just...."

"I don't need it," he said. "I never have. Sit and let me finish, and then you might understand."

Cole sank into a cross-legged seat, but tension remained in his body. He released a slow breath, his eyes darting to the talisman. "How?"

"I'm not the same strain of warg as you," Johnny replied. "But you could learn to control your inner beast, just as I can."

"What do you mean, the same strain? And control it? Nobody can control it!"

"Yeah, they can."

"But—"

"Just listen. I don't know the exact science behind how wargs were created," he admitted, turning his knife over and over in his hands. "But they were trying to create a soldier who wouldn't flinch in the face of danger, a pumped-up adrenaline-junkie who relished killing. You can probably guess how this goes wrong. I think the first trials failed, and the second wasn't much better, and in the end five different types of wargs were created until they finally got to a stage where their wargs weren't so volatile. You've got your alpha strain, your beta strain, gamma, delta, and omega.

"Project: Gamma was the first hybrid created. Problem was they were utterly batshit crazy. Your general run-of-the-mill psychopath warg who needs to be put down. You can't reach them, you can't teach them to control themselves, and they just want to fuck or fight. You see them out in the Wastelands sometimes—the direct descendants of the original gamma hybrids. Stink like rotten flesh from the kills they drag back to their nests, and they're generally filthy and dangerous. The second you smell that scent you know you've got to kill them. Best solution is to put a few silver bullets in them and move on.

"Wasn't exactly what the military wanted, so the scientists moved on to Project: Delta. Phase two. Not as batshit insane as the gamma variant, but still uncontrollable. Very, very occasionally you come across a delta warg out there who can fight the urge to destroy everything around it, but chances are they'll go rogue at least once in their life. I've only ever come across two. One was a killer. One was an old rogue who just wanted to be left alone, and I'm pretty sure he'd done some bad shit at some stage in his life.

"Which brings us to the alpha and beta strains. They're variants of the third hybrid created. Your alphas were bred and engineered to be leaders of their military units, once they'd finally crafted a warg hybrid that wouldn't simply murder everything it came across. Alphas have a slightly different base code, and when they're fusing—which is what I did to you and those dogs in that alley—they give off some kind of chemical scent that makes other wargs want to obey. My father called it pheromones, said it's all got to do with hormones or something. That scent says obey or die, and depending on the strain you're infected with, you'll most likely obey.

"Especially if you've got the beta strain. Similar to alpha, but they're designed to be soldiers. Militia. There's a subordinate streak in them that makes them naturally crave to be in the pack, just not at the head of it."

"And your omega strain?" Cole looked fascinated.

Johnny stabbed his knife in the dirt, his hand clenching around the hilt so tightly the timber ingrained itself in his palm. Easy. "Project: Omega was the last warg hybrid they managed to create. Don't get me wrong. Your alphas and betas might be more in control than the others, but most of them go warg these days. I imagine it might have been different back when they were created and had the training to resist it. Omegas, however, are the most stable of all wargs, and they give off calming pheromones. Rarely fight, rarely turn warg. If you've got an out-of-control alpha or even a delta, an omega's about the only thing that might be able to rein them in."

Except for the one time in his life when it had mattered.

Bitterness churned within him. His mother had always been the aggressive one, but his father.... Hell, his father should have known better than to think anything he could have done would have talked Bartholomew Cane down.

The second Cane rode onto their small homestead, Johnny's father had been a dead man, and his mother had panicked as her past finally caught up to her.

"Hide," she'd rasped at Johnny, shoving him toward the small game trail that led into the wilderness behind their cabin. "Whatever you see or hear, don't come back. Don't let my brother see you."

And his father—the father who'd rarely lifted a hand against anyone—had grimly walked out to meet the lone figure on horseback. It was the last time he’d ever seen him.

The sound of a gun firing echoed through his head, and Johnny flinched.

"What's wrong?" Cole asked, as the breeze swirled past them.

"Bad memories."

He could almost feel the lingering stroke of Cole's gaze on his face. "You knew someone who was an omega?"

"My father." And I really don't want to talk about it.

The warg itched under his skin as if it sensed his anger. Left to brew, it would use that rage to tear its way out of him if he allowed it. Not even he was immune and the lunar tide pulled at him.

Feel the wind on your skin and remember who you are, his father's voice whispered in his memories. Feel the dirt beneath your feet and use it to rein the monster in.

Johnny breathed out slowly, letting it all wash out of him. The hate. The rage. The desire to hit something.

It wouldn't bring his father back or change the past.

The kid got the message. "So how do you know which strain of warg you are?"

"Depends who scratched you up." Johnny held his hands up, forcing the shift to stir through him. His fingers ached and began to elongate, sharp claws springing from the tips. The whisper of the night-lure became a little stronger in his veins. Every sense heightened just a fraction, until he could hear the rush of blood through Eden's veins.

"Holy shit," Cole blurted. "You can partial shift."

"Yeah. I don't know how the pre-Darkening government created us, but it's like an infection. One bite, one scratch, and you're going to start getting hairy at night. But each infection is specific to the strain of warg who scratched you. Who infected you?"

"Luc Wade."

Johnny shot him a startled look. "And you're riding to get a cure for his daughter?"

Despite the dark, he could scent the sudden flush of emotion coming off the kid. Without thinking, he reached out and rested his hand on Cole's shoulder, feeling that heavy pit of lassitude sweep through him. The calmness flooded his veins the same way adrenaline did, and Cole's shoulders softened the second he smelled it.

Pheromones.

An omega's touch.

A pity it hadn't saved his father's life.

"Lily's a friend. And I've come to terms with what happened. I have this now." Cole wrapped a hand around the pewter amulet around his neck. "Doesn't make it any easier knowing Wade cut my future short, but with this... I can live a semblance of a life. He gave this to me himself, as reparation."

Johnny eyed the amulet cynically. If only you knew the truth....

But he sighed and gave in. No point fucking with the kid's belief system when they were in the middle of the Divide. "I knew an alpha once—his name was Bartholomew Cane. Since he was the one who infected both Adam McClain and Luc Wade, you'll carry the alpha strain."

"Which means I should be able to control other wargs." Cole sounded out the thought, his words not quite a question. "But the second you commanded me, I went down on one knee like those fucking dogs."

"Even an alpha can bend. You're young and untrained, and you've been around two wargs since you were in your teens presumably. It's the pack hierarchy mentality. When Wade tells you to do something, I'll bet you do it. Don't even think about it mostly."

Cole stared out into the night as if he was re-running his interactions with Wade through his mind. "Son of a bitch."

"Don't beat yourself up. It happens when you get a warg young, and I doubt Wade's doing it consciously. He doesn't know shit about being a warg. It's most likely instinct on both your behalf, and as you get older you'll find it easier to defy him."

"Could you do that to Wade?"

He gave a faint, bitter smile. "Considering Wade managed to lock me in a cabin a few years ago and flick a match... Unlikely. It doesn't work on all alphas and depends strongly on the hierarchy. Once they're adults it's virtually impossible to make an alpha yield, especially if they're strong-willed." His smile died. "Unless you break them. Torture. Sleep deprivation. Starvation. That kind of shit." His voice roughened. "You break them down, force them to kneel to your will when you're flooding them with scent. Rinse and repeat. Do it often enough and you can twist even the most hard-core alpha to your will in a way he'll never be able to break. If you get them young, then it works even better. They can't deny you. Can't say no. You can fight it, but you're fighting your own instincts and it hurts like fuck."

A slight rustle stirred. Eden. Rolling over in her blankets, as she gave a soft sigh.

Johnny eased out his breath—and the shame that had suddenly filled him. Fuck. Why was he even saying this? His heart was suddenly racing, the moon beginning to whisper through his veins like a drug. He vanished the claws the second he realized he was getting emotional, staring at his all-too-human hands.

And he realized he'd given far too much away.

Cole slowly stirred the dirt beneath his heels. "You smell different to McClain and Wade. Now I know what I'm looking for I can pick up the difference. It makes me feel weird. I feel like I should trust you, and I don't know why."

"It's the omega in me, thanks to my father. My mother was an alpha. She and my father decided to infect me at the same time. She didn't want me to have to fight the rage she always struggled with, but alphas heal better than omegas, so he wanted me to have her strain too. Thought blending the two strains might help me keep my wits, and it seems to have worked."

"Double whammy."

"Something like that."

"So you're an alpha-omega?"

"Yeah. Only one I've ever met, to be honest."

"How do you know so much about this?" Cole asked. "I've never come across anyone who knows anything more than how to kill a warg."

"My father's people kept records." Pushing to his feet, Johnny crossed to the small pit where the last of the night's coals had died down. "He told me about the different strains and a couple of years ago I spent a month in the ruins of Black River Testing Facility, and managed to find some of their sealed records. They were one of the military centers that experimented on wargs."

"Do you think there’s a cure?"

Wishful thinking. He kicked dirt over the coals, turning into the breeze. "Doubtful. We don’t have the technology or the—"

The faintest hint of scent wafted past him.

Johnny froze.

He slammed a hand out, beckoning the kid into silence. Every hair on the back of his neck felt like it rose.

"What is it?" Cole breathed, slowly shifting to his feet.

Johnny’s nostrils flared. The scent was gone. But it had been there. Musk and iron, and something faintly cat-like. If the wind hadn’t shifted in that precise moment, he doubted he’d have even sensed it.

He’d smelled that scent before.

Mierda. Something was downwind, and it was stalking them. Worse. He knew what it was.

Tension unfurled within him. Where the fuck was his shotgun? His hand settled slowly over the gun at his belt, and his gaze shifted to the knife he’d left buried in the dirt by the log he’d been sitting on. Cole followed his glance and tugged the knife free, tensing in reaction.

Part omega or not, right now he could feel the kick of his heart and knew his scent would be sharpening.

"Don’t move suddenly," Johnny said, in a conversational voice that sounded distant to his ears. Eden was still wrapped up in her blankets as snug as a bug, but he caught the glint of moonlight on her eyes. Awake and listening to them, and probably had been for a while. "Eden, can you get up?"

"What is it?" she breathed.

"Something’s out there and it’s stalking us." His heartbeat jacked through his ribs, and he tried to hear over its sudden drumming pulse. Except for that brief drift of scent he might not have known. There was no sound. No more scent. Nothing except the fine prickling of the hairs along his forearms and the knowing they weren't alone anymore.

"A warg?"

No. "Worse. A shadow cat."

His mother's people had called them sombra que acecha la noche.

And if they had any luck it would only be one.