We merged what was left of our two packs and became one—built something out of the wreckage. But the damage runs deep. Ten years later, and you can still see it. In Silas’s silence. In Darius’s need to control everything. In Elias’s relentless need to keep things light, because the alternative is going somewhere dark.
We’re all fucked up in our own ways. We’ve just gotten good at working around it rather than facing it.
And Blue. She could be the thing that finally changes everything. The missing piece we didn’t know we were looking for. She’s not afraid to say exactly what she means. She is making us confront our own trauma in ways we never dreamed.
We need that. All of us. Even Darius, especially Darius, whether he knows it or not.
If she could just let us in.
That’s the hard part. And looking at Blue right now, standing in the middle of a crowd of well-meaning strangers with her arms crossed, her chin up, and her eyes still scanning for the nearest exit, I know it’s going to take time. A lot of time. And patience that none of us are particularly known for. We will need to earn her trust.
But for the first time in years, it feels like something good might actually be possible.
If we don’t fuck it up.
Again.
16
Mo
Iscan the gathering, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
A child screams with laughter, and I flinch. The sound is too sharp, too sudden. My body parses it as a threat before my brain can override.
There are too many people, too many sounds, too many smells. My wolf, the traitorous little heathen, is practically prancing with glee. If she had her way, she’d be out there playing wolf tag with the pups, biting tails and being an idiot.
“Here, sweetheart, have another cookie,” Elias says, shoving a plate under my nose.
I eye the treats. I’ve already had two, and the sugar high is going to hit any minute. “You trying to fatten me up to eat later?”
He laughs. “Oh, definitely.”
Darius’s grandmother shuffles over and ruffles Elias’s curls, then turns her attention to me. “You’re skin and bones. Our strong alphas need a well-fed omega.”
Fuck that.
Is she going to comment on my hips next? Tell me they’re too narrow for childbearing? But when I look up at her eager smile, the retort stalls in my throat. She’s not being cruel; she’s being a caring grandmother. I’ve just forgotten what that looks like.
I take the cookie and smile at her instead.
I watch the others lounging around the fire. Trading jokes, shoving each other, passing food around. Kids chase each other across the grass, shrieking with laughter. A couple of women share a bottle of wine on a blanket. Normal life. The kind of thing I used to watch from the trees when I spied on campers.
“Blue!” Lily bounds over and grabs my arm. “Come see my cottage!”
I let her drag me along, aware of the alphas’ eyes on my back. Darius, Elias, Silas, and Archer, all of them watching every step I take.
But my usual venom isn’t there. I know my wolf loves it here. She made that humiliatingly clear yesterday. And a part of me, a part I keep trying to smother, wants to belong. But can I trust alphas again? After everything?
Lily’s cottage is small and cozy, full of knitted blankets and mismatched furniture, and the kind of cluttered warmth that takes years to accumulate. Lived-in and loved.
“I live with my grandmother,” she explains, waving vaguely at the doilies on every surface.
“What about your parents?” I ask. “I haven’t seen any of the alphas’ parents around.”
Lily’s smile falters. The brightness in her eyes dims for just a second before she covers it. “They’re gone.”
“What happened?”