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“Agreed.” I nodded.
“Isaac, you old dog!” Jaxon’s booming laugh echoed through the jail as he clapped Isaac on the back. “It’s been too long.”
“Jaxon Hyde?” Isaac’s grin stretched from ear to ear, his eyes lighting up with genuine excitement. “You sneaky bastard, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Surprise. Certainly couldn’t let my daughter handle all this chaos alone, could I?” Jaxon said, chuckling.
“Your daughter? You mean...” Isaac’s eyes flicked over to me, realization dawning on him. “Tori?”
“None other,” Jaxon confirmed, pride shining in his eyes.
“Attention, everyone!” Isaac shouted. His words carried through the room, and the remaining murmurs and scuffles died down. “In case you haven’t noticed, Alpha Hyde has returned!”
“Alpha Hyde?” someone said as heads turned toward us, expressions of shock and curiosity painted on their faces.
“Shouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” Jaxon addressed the growing crowd. “I showed up to support my daughter—the wonderful alpha you all just witnessed in action.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room as the shifters exchanged wide-eyed glances, realization dawning upon them.
“Wait, Tori is an...?” someone started to ask, but the question hung in the air as they pieced it together themselves.
The whispers grew louder, the revelation settling heavily upon the space like a gathering storm. Some looked at me with newfound respect, while others seemed wary and even frightened.
Alpha? What the fuck? I was just coming around to the idea that I would be the pack’sluna. As I looked around at the peoplestaring back at me, I tried to convince myself Jaxon was making a terrible mistake.
Then I looked up into the eyes of Ridge, the only person who mattered, and all I saw was love and acceptance staring back, mixed in with a bit of shock and awe. But if he could accept me for what I was, then I damn well wasn’t going to let him down.
Part Two
Chapter 29
Tori
The sun was just beginning to crest the horizon, casting a golden glow on the buildings of Blackwood Creek as I strolled through the quiet streets. The town was still waking up, and there was something magical about having it all to myself. An immense sense of pride swelled in me as I made my way to what would be my new tattoo shop—a gift from Ridge.
It was so much more than just a gift, though. It was a heartfelt gesture. He’d once asked me what I would have done if my life had taken a different path and money was no object. I’d confided in him about my dream of having my own tattoo studio. Never once did I think he would actually go out and buy me a damn shop. Through my astonishment, I realized he’d truly paid attention to every word I had spoken. It touched me in a way I struggled to put into words.
Before I’d arrived in Blackwood Creek, I was on the run from the hunters. I worked cash jobs and packed light to make fleeing easy. The one constant was my sketchbook. Art was my passion, my joy, and my escape. Amid all the chaos, it gave me a much-needed outlet. I saved up to buy a used laptop and used my artistic talent to supplement my income, taking on freelance graphic design projects.
I was working at a bar when I crossed paths with a tattoo artist. When I asked him about the design on his arm, we got to talking about tattoos and art. Recognizing my interest and potential, he offered to teach me. It was the longest I’d stayed in one place since leaving the hunter compound, but it had been a valuable risk as I learned how to transfer my craft from paper to skin. It was there that the idea of my own studio had sprouted. At the time, though, I couldn’t risk putting down permanent roots. It would have only made me an easy target for the hunters.
I’d been my own first customer when I inked a heather flower on my wrist, in memory of my mom—Heather.
As ideas for the perfect name for my new studio swirled in my head—Inkception, Inkspiration, Arctic Ink, The Silver Needle—my attention moved to the small storefronts surrounding mine.Mine. I didn’t think saying that would ever get old.
When I first arrived in town, I hadn’t planned on sticking around, nor did I have money to afford anything more than the basics. I’d only ever taken a cursory glance at the shops and never explored any of them.
The square, located across the road from the town hall and sheriff’s office, was home to a variety of bustling stores. None of the shops were franchises or department stores; they were all independent businesses. The hair salon had a small spa, and Audrey had waxed lyrical about how awesome the facials were. Flyers pinned to the bookstore’s window advertised upcoming readings and book club nights, and I could make out rows of packed bookshelves and comfortable armchairs enticing you to linger over your purchases. Next to it, an amazing pottery store held all sorts of ceramic delights on display, from chunky mugs to delicately glazed lamps. They even had stunning raku vases, where the glazed piece was removed from the kiln at high heat, placed in a container with combustible items likehay or sawdust, and sealed. The heat ignited the flammable items, resulting in an unusual cracking in the glaze. The process appeared simple but was difficult to perfect, and the pieces in the window were beautifully crafted.
The outdoors store had a window display showing a family-sized tent set up with cozy sleeping bags and folding chairs arranged around logs placed to resemble a campfire. A selection of hiking boots and backpacks were on show, as well as solar-powered chargers and compact gas stoves, all carefully arranged to entice passersby. Trade was probably booming with all the incoming shifters sleeping out in the woods.
The center of the square boasted planters filled with gorgeous bright goldenrods and purple asters, the star-shaped purple petals standing out against the backdrop of the green shrubbery and leaves. Even though it was early, bees and butterflies flitted between each blossom. Bench seats were strategically placed on all sides of the square’s planters, creating the perfect spot for a person to sit and enjoy the atmosphere. Unlike the cities I’d been in, there was no trash lying around or graffiti covering the tidy buildings. It painted an idyllic picture.
The morning buzz of locals opening their shops filled my ears, and I breathed in deep, the fresh, crisp fall air filling my lungs. As I took it all in, my thoughts drifted to plans for my studio. I was eager to start using art in my life every day and turning it into a successful business.
I wanted Ridge to be proud of me.
He wasn’t my fake fiancé anymore—he was myactualfiancé, and my fated mate.
