“It’s not Castro,” I reassured him when alarm flashed in his eyes. “This boy is different. Kind, playful… I can’t explain it, but I know these are more than just dreams.”
Ty leaned back against the headboard and rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, we both know your dreams about your past haven’t exactly been just dreams.”
I nodded. “They’ve always been memories I’ve repressed, and this time it’s about a boy I can’t quite place. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m dreaming about him. I wish I could remember who he was and why we were allowed to play together so much. I’m not much more than three, maybe four years old in my dreams. Either way, the dreams about him are becoming a regular occurrence.”
Ty grabbed his side and feigned injury. “Do you play-wrestle by any chance? That might explain why I wake up with bruised ribs each morning.”
“Oh, please.” I chuckled and swatted at him. “You could always sleep on the couch if it bothers you.”
“Never.” Ty pulled me close and kissed me gently. “So, what are we going to do about these dreams?”
I held up the packet. “I want to find the surviving kids from the Wylde pack. Several families moved away to avoid Castro. They have to still be out there somewhere.”
Ty regarded me thoughtfully, the smile fading from his face as he considered my words. He took the packet from me, flipping through the pages. “If others got away from Castro, we should do everything we can to find them. Those families were extremely lucky to get out when they did.”
The mood in the room quickly turned somber. Neither of us spoke, but I knew we were both thinking about the slaughter of my pack.
Ty pulled me close again, brushing his lips tenderly over my forehead. “Consider it done. Now, can we get some more sleep?”
“Of course. I’ll be right back.” My throat was dry from all the crying, so I drank some water in bathroom and glanced at the mirror. My reflection showed a weary woman with wild hair who needed sleep more than anything else. I looked like I’d aged a decade. With a sigh, I crawled back into bed, my mind buzzing with possibilities and questions.
Who was the boy from my dreams? Were there other survivors from my pack out there, hiding from Castro’s wrath? The answers seemed just out of reach, like fragments of a puzzle scattered across time.
It took a while for my brain to settle down. I didn’t think I’d sleep, and I prepared to wait for the sun. Surprisingly, when the dreaded alarm clock went off, I woke up. I’d fallen back into a dreamless slumber and gotten a few more hours of sleep, after all.
“Ugh, do I have to?” I groaned as I reluctantly threw off the covers. Today would be more than a little busy. I had four interviews for an assistant chef and driver scheduled. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be put off by the crowds at the gate. I dragged myself out of bed, trying to shake off the lingering tendrils of sleep that clung to my body. At least I didn’t have to drive across town for the interviews.
Given the omega insanity currently taking over Presley Acres, Ty didn’t think it was safe for me to go into the office in town. Instead, we’d decided to hold the interviews at the estate, where we had more control over security and were in a position to screen candidates at the gate before they were allowed inside. We couldn’t be too careful these days.
The hot water soothed my aching neck. I must’ve slept weird because it hurt to turn my head to the left. The scent of coconut clung to the steam as I lathered up with a new organic shampoo I’d purchased at the farmer’s market before it was overrun with crazy tourists. Working the shampoo into my scalp, I focused onmy goal for the day. I’d chosen candidates with some experience who were also looking to grow and learn. I loved my career, and I’d always wanted to teach others the ropes. My busy schedule hadn’t allowed that, so I looked at the new hires as living out part of that dream of having my own apprentice.
After drying my hair, I put on some lip gloss and mascara, then dressed in something casually professional. My stomach growled. You’d think as a chef I wouldn’t need reminding that food was a priority.
“Time to find sustenance,” I muttered to myself, making my way to the kitchen. To my delight, there was a pastry tray waiting on the counter. The chef must have left it for me. I grabbed a bagel and coffee, grateful for small mercies and kitchen staff.
“Okay. Interviews. Let’s do this,” I said, psyching myself up as I carried my breakfast into my new office.
Two quick knocks rapped at the door.
“Come in,” I called, taking a small bite of my bagel slathered with cream cheese.
“Your first interviewee has arrived, ma’am,” the staff member informed me.
Nodding for her to lead them in, I pulled out my notebook and got ready to meet Alex.
“Hi there. Good morning. I’m Liza,. You must be Alex Strand. Sorry for the gate gestapo. I’m afraid it’s a necessary evil at the moment.” I extended my hand, offering a warm smile. “Tell me about your experience and what led you to apply for this cooking position.”
Alex blinked rapidly. “I guess you could say I’d like to try something different, though everything I put my mind to turns to gold, so to speak.”
Wow. Okay, that was different. “Sounds like you have a firm grasp on your skills. Why don’t you tell me about some of the jobs you’ve had in the past and ways you could have improvedyourself… maybe a challenge you faced that pushed you outside your comfort zone?”
Alex scoffed. “Honestly, nothing has been a challenge for me up to this point. I slay any situation that’s thrown at me. That’s why I get bored easily. At least this position, working at the alpha’s estate, would be interesting.”
“I see.” I pretended to make a note in my notepad while I gathered my thoughts. Alex’s résumé had been promising, but his know-it-all attitude clashed with my laid-back approach. We wouldn’t be able to work cohesively, and that’s what I needed. I was already fairly certain I would not be hiring him.
As I posed a few more questions, it became abundantly clear that our personalities would collide instead of harmonizing. I quickly brought the interview to an end.
“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Strand. Best of luck in your future endeavors.” I stood and gestured toward the door. He didn’t move, just sat there with an unnerving smile spread across his face.
