"Don't thank me. Bring it back with a full tank."
She turns to Adam. Her arms open and he steps into them without hesitation, his face pressing into her shoulder. She holds him tight, one hand on the back of his head, and leans close to his ear. She whispers something I can't quite catch.
But I think I hear,“Give her a chance.”
Adam pulls back, his eyes down, and nods. Then he moves toward the car and reaches for the back door, but Cliff's hand catches his arm.
"Up front with me," the pack alpha says. He nods toward the back seat. "Elowen can sit in back."
Surprise flickers across Adam’s face, before he smooths it away. He walks around to the passenger side and gets in without a word.
I turn to Odette. She's standing in the driveway with her arms crossed over her flannel robe, the morning light catching the silver in her hair.
"Thank you," I say. "For the food. And the couch. And for being kind when you didn't have to be."
She studies me for a moment. Her gray eyes are clear and direct.
"My son's pack is filled with good men,omega." Her voice is firm, but somehow still kind. "They're loyal and they're stubborn, and they love hard. They didn't ask for what happened yesterday, same as you didn’t, but they showed up for you anyway." She pauses, then adds, "Give them a chance."
There's something underneath her words. Like she's scared I might bolt the second the car pulls out of her driveway and these men will be left with a broken bond.
And once again, I wonder if she can read my mind.
“Okay." I smile, because what else am I supposed to say?
Odette smiles back at me, then she watches me walk to the car, open the back door, and slide onto the wide seat. The Cadillac smells like old leather, dust, and something faintly sweet that might be aftershave from a man who they’ve told me has been dead for ten years.
Cliff starts the engine. It turns over with a low, smooth rumble.
And we pull out of the driveway.
Thirty minutes later, Cliff pulls into a pharmacy parking lot. It's a chain store, big and anonymous, the kind of place where nobody remembers your face. I've shopped at a dozen just like it, always paying cash, always at different locations, never the same one twice in a row.
Cliff kills the engine and looks at me in the rearview mirror. "What do you need to hide your scent?"
I list everything off without thinking. Scent-neutralizing spray. Unscented body wipes. Scent patches if they carry them, though most places don't. A generic antihistamine that dulls pheromone output. They won’t have scent-blocking pills. Those require a prescription. I know the brands, the dosages, the likely aisle numbers.
I've been shopping for my own invisibility for three years.
"I can go in," I say, reaching for the door handle.
"Stay in the car." Cliff's voice is calm but the weight behind it is unmistakable. It’s a clear command. Not harsh or loud, just absolute. "Both of you.” He glances at Adam. “I'll be back in ten minutes."
Then the alpha gets out, shuts the door, and walks across the parking lot without looking back.
I watch him go. His broad shoulders, the slight stiffness in his left arm where the gauze pulls, the way he moves through the parking lot like nothing in the world could slow him down.
And a sudden sadness settles over me.
It's so irrational, but I desperately want him to come back.
He's walking into a pharmacy, not leaving the country,I silently tell myself, but my chest tightens and my fingers grip the edge of the seat anyway.
I have to close my eyes to keep from pressing my face against the window like a dog watching its owner leave.
Breathe. In and out. Let the world fill the space he left behind.
But the silence doesn't help. It only makes the pull worse.
