“I didn’t get the chance to give him his change,” she murmured, staring at the coins Jodhar left behind.
Xian Jun’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll handle it,” he said, scooping up the pouch and counting out the exact amount. “Best not owe an Alpha like him anything—not even a single coin.”
Warning wove beneath his words. Reiya was certain he understood—debts with someone like Jodhar came at a cost far greater than currency.
“Thank you, Xian Jun.”
The market hummed along, Alphas passing without notice, and slowly, her shoulders eased.
Still, that evening, she returned to the herbalist’s stall to purchase the Heat suppression remedy.
The next day, seven families gathered at the southern edge of Vhalis Thorn. Seven wagons lined up, horses harnessed and supplies loaded as they exchanged greetings and farewells. Hired Alphas drifted through the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning everything and everyone. Reiya kept her head down, hands busy with tying up parcels. Awareness prickled under her skin, but she ignored it.
Early that morning, as the herbalist had instructed, she brewed the suppressant in secret while the Xian family packed. She’d gulped it down despite the burn on her tongue. The herbalist had assured her drinking it once every two days would be enough to keep the symptoms at bay.
Hopefully, it would make the journey ahead feel a little less precarious.
As the last wagon settled into place with a groan, the caravan eased forward beneath the pale morning sky. The rhythmic clatter of hooves and creaking wooden wheels merged with soft conversations, wrapping the procession in a steady, unhurried pace.
Inside the wagon, Reiya sat beside Mei Mei, shoulders finally dropping. Away from watchful eyes, she allowed herself a moment of quiet relief.
The reprieve was brief. Mei Mei scooted closer, small fingers tugging at her collar with unabashed curiosity.
“That’s pretty,” the girl whispered, wide eyes fixed on the wing-shaped pendant resting against her collarbone.
Reiya smiled, brushing her thumb over the cool crystal. “Would you like to hold it?”
Mei Mei nodded eagerly. Reiya unfastened the chain around her neck and dropped the necklace into the girl’s waiting hand.
“Does it make you fly?” she asked, tilting her head.
“Not quite,” Reiya chuckled. “But I like to think it might.”
The child dangled the pendant from her fingers, watching it swing. “It looks like it’s flying!”
Reiya smiled and gently tucked a curl behind Mei Mei’s ear, warmth settling in her chest. “You can keep it for a little while. Just promise not to let it fly away.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, pressing the pendant to her chest as if it were the priciest of treasures.
Reiya watched her for a long moment, a quiet longing stirring deep inside.
The pendant had once carried her hopes, bright and burning—but reality had dulled its shine.
Yet here, in a child’s small hands, it seemed to catch the light again—a simpler purpose, but precious still.
By dusk, the caravan camped near a shallow creek, fires crackling to life as families settled in. Bedrolls were spread over the packed earth, open to the night sky and scattered stars.
Reiya laid down beside the sleeping Mei Mei, the steady rhythm of the child’s breathing a quiet comfort against the low hum of camp life.
But as the night stretched on, unease settled deep in her bones. The low murmur of Alphas’ voices from the fire a distance away scraped against her nerves—too rough, too loud; each syllable a reminder of how fragile her stolen calm truly was. Yet, they paid her no mind, their gazes skimming past her without a flicker of recognition.
The tea, it seemed, was working.
One thing became clear: the suppressant made her invisible to them, but it did nothing to dull her awareness ofthem.
She curled tighter beneath her blanket, instincts coiling like wire. That traitorous pull in her belly—the one that sensed Alphas before thought could catch up—tugged at her awareness. She hated it. Hated the whisper inside her that kept her alert when all she wanted was numbness.
She’d never been this surrounded before.
