“It’s not bad,” Charlie says, helping Autry step carefully around a loose floorboard. “It just needs some love.” He glances toward the kitchen, then back at me. “Is there electricity?”
“There should be,” I say, flicking the nearest switch.
Nothing.
I try another.
Still nothing.
“The main generator’s out back.” I angle toward the door. “I’ll grab a few more bags while I’m out there, too.”
Charlie holds Autry a little tighter, moving toward the narrow hallway. “Alright, Autry and I are going to find thebiggest bed.” I notice the way her feet drag as she moves, her knees almost giving out several times.
We don’t have much time.
“Myrick?” I turn to my mate, but he’s already on the move.
“I’ll grab the nesting supplies.” He breezes past me, a blur of blond hair and nervous energy.
Outside, the sun’s starting to set. The oak trees cast long shadows across the ground, but the sky’s still that brilliant kind of blue that only happens when there’snothingaround for miles.
It’s bizarre, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I canbreathe.
The air here doesn’t taste like smog or city dust. It’s fresh. Crisp. Clean. And quiet—God,thequiet. Oli walks beside me in silence, scanning the outside wall of the cabin as we go. There’s some water damage and rusted nails that need to be replaced, but I can’t help but love it.
Sure, the nearest town is a forty-five-minute drive, and the roof might cave in if we sneeze too hard, but my pack has a chance to build a life here that we’d never have in the city.
We circle the back of the cabin, past the leaning woodpile and a rusted-out grill. I spot the generator tucked beside what’s left of the shed. It’s old—likereallyold. Half-covered in spiderwebs and pine needles.
I pop the lid and immediately curse under my breath. I give it a kick, but there’s no satisfying slosh of fuel inside. Empty. Of course. Then I notice the chewed-up wires near the starter. Fucking squirrels…or raccoons, hell, maybe even a porcupine—something with teeth and zero respect for private property.
“Outta gas?” Oli asks, stepping up beside me.
“And half-eaten,” I mutter, standing upright and wiping my hands on my jeans. “We can get parts in town.”
Oli doesn’t answer right away. He looks past me, toward the tree line and the ridge beyond it. A sliver of orange light kisses the mountaintops in the distance.
“This place is actually kinda nice,” he says, arms folded. “I mean, I grew up in the city—billboards, noise, corner stores on every block. So this?” He tilts his chin toward the horizon. “It’s gonna take some getting used to.”
I look the alpha up and down, imagining him chopping wood and hunting deer. “How do you feel about being a country boy?”
He shrugs with that cocky little grin. “As long as I get to enjoy all the clichés.”
“Like what?” I ask, already suspicious.
He turns to me, expression deadpan. “Barnyard sex.”
I bark out a laugh, nearly doubling over. “Where thefuckdid you hear that stereotype?”
“I don’t know,” he says, suddenly a little sheepish. “Porn, maybe?”
I roll my eyes, still chuckling. “Hate to disappoint you, but we don’t have a barn.”
Oli sweeps his gaze across the property, pretending to size it up. “We can always build one.”
I shake my head, still grinning like an idiot, but it fades when Oli’s expression turns thoughtful.
“Do you think Autry’s heat might trigger Charlie’s again?” he asks. “I know it’s early in his cycle, but still…”
