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We’re in code orange right now, the dial veering toward red. Sussing out and figuring out a plan to deal with the situation with Greyson’s mate’s brother and the rest of that pack.
What we know at this stage is that it’s a pack in Silver Hills, about six hours northwest and Stacy’s brother Wyatt Meadows is the alpha. They wanted Ty dead because he allegedly killed their father several years ago after a dogfight match and an argument with Uncle Cornelius. They’re a pack that keeps to themselves and Stacy says they think our pack is an abomination. They want to take the rest of our super-alphas out and absorb our pack into their own, taking over this territory as they’re power-hungry and want dominion over the magic in the region. They lost their witch, a witch who was a hostage and forced to make potions for them. Losing their witch explains why they want mine.
I don’t know what men, potions, and firepower they have still at their backs, but we do know they’re only too happy to enlist the help of chemical warfare against us. They masked their scents to sneak up on this cabin the other night. But not well enough because my wolf caught their scent. And that might be down to the fact that I was locked out. My senses were fucked but that doesn’t mean my wolf’s were.
I’ve insisted I’m brought into things if I’m needed and that I want to know everything. I’ve assured my co-alphas I’m on the way back to being myself.
They’re insistent that I focus on my relationship. And I plan to do that, too. I feel capable of doing it all.
I hold her for a while, a long while enjoying how right she feels. Languishing in her scent, the sound of her breathing, knowing she’s awake but feeling mostly content being still. Purring for her. But when hunger niggles at me, I slide out from under her so I can go finish cooking up the breakfast she started.
I turn the bacon back on, crack a few new eggs and drop some bread into the toaster.
I wander back in a while later with two cups of coffee and she’s resting her head on her elbow lying at the bottom of the bed, staring out the window. I set the plates down on the edge of the bed, kiss her softly and feel that she watches me leave the room. I come back with breakfast, set the plates on the bed, and sit.
She gnaws on her lower lip while looking at me with an unreadable expression. I’d ruminate on the fact it’s a good thing I can read her emotions, but I can’t, really, as they’re a tangled mess right now and I don’t know her well enough yet to untangle them. I do know she feels at war with herself.
I take a piece of bacon from one of the plates and hold it out in front of her. She sits up and reaches for it. I shake my head and touch her lips with the tip of it. She opens her mouth and takes a little bite.
I see the outline of the glass jar I’ve spotted a number of times the last few days. It’s inside one of her bags, so I set the meat on the plate before stretching to grab it.
“Riley,” she whispers, looking panicked.
“Said you put notes in here over the past seven years to show me about things you did while we were apart?”
“Every piece is a fact or an outcome of someone I was able to help.”
“Yeah?”
“Most are people you’ve never met, but also a couple you have met. But I’m not sure about this now. Maybe you shouldn’t read them.”
“You wrote them for me to read, right?” I ask.
She twists her lips adorably, looking conflicted.
“I didn’t want to sacrifice your happiness for all this,” she says. “I didn’t want to pick magic over you, but I was stuck. So stuck. And hurting. And aching for you. Just aching to tell you the truth so that you could move on with your life once you realized how badly I fucked things up. I wasn’t allowed. But now, here… I can give you the choice. You can choose to sever our connection and then you can move on. Maybe find someone worthy of you.” She swallows. “But asking you to read those? Now it sounds kind of dumb and self-serving.”
“Doesn’t seem dumb to me. Of course I wanna know what you were doing while we were apart.”
I grab a fork, saw off a piece of fried egg and fork it up, bringing it to her mouth. She hesitantly opens her mouth and accepts it. I set the fork down and unscrew the lid.
She fidgets, so my eyes bounce to her; she looks worried.
