Nash, being from the area, knows a spot where we can cross the border into Mexico without much fuss. I was almost hoping that we’d need to shift into our wolf forms, because I’m curious about what Nash’s looks like, but then we’d have to leave the motorcycle behind, and it’s clear that Nash won’t be parted from his beloved bike.
So we zip through some dirt roads, mostly hidden by a rocky outcropping. Nash waves at some guys at an outpost near a barbed wire fence, and they wave back, seeming to recognize him. I wonder, not for the first time, what else Nash hasn’t told me about his past.
Why is he so familiar with secret border crossings? Why was his pack so willing to believe that he would be behind a murder plot? Why is he so unconcerned with my Omega status?
None of that matters, thou
