After a second, I toss the phone onto the bed, grab new leggings and a sweatshirt, and pull them on. No point climbing back under the covers now. Coffee smell drifts faintly down the hall, and my feet automatically follow it.
The alphas are in the living room by the time I step in, but they’re not in their usual clothes. They’re bundled up like they’re about to attempt Everest: heavy coats, beanies, gloves, serious boots.
“Morning,” Felix says, scarf halfway up his face.
“Morning,” I answer, eyeing the gear. “What’s this? Group skiing lesson?"
He snorts. “We’re making a run for the woodshed. Need to stock up on firewood before the next drift buries the door. Safer to have a backup if the heater decides to be moody.”
“We’ll be faster if all three of us go,” Liam adds, bending to tighten the laces on his boots. “The shed’s only a few minutes out in normal weather, but in this?” He straightens, grimacing. “Could be much longer.”
Silas yanks his zipper up, then looks over at me, full of defiance. “Guess you’re holding down the fort, princess. Try not to work your way throughallthe rations while we’re gone.”
I cross my arms. “And you try not to get eaten by a yeti.”
I’m almost sure I see the corner of his mouth twitch before he grunts and turns away.
A moment later, the three of them step out into the white roar, and the door thuds shut behind them.
Silence drops over the chalet like someone hit mute.
I pour myself a coffee and stand by the window, watching the snow whirl sideways. Somewhere beyond all that is a road to Lakeview, a way out. Right now, all I see is white.
I let out a long breath.
I am not built for this.
I am built for inboxes, depositions, and back-to-back calendars. For “let’s push that to next Tuesday” and “circle back after the merger.” Not for being trapped and… under-stimulated.
I mean, as much as things feel like they’re thawing with the whole pack, the situation is still maddening.
And honestly really, really dull.
I take my mug and turn away from the window, letting my eyes wander over the space instead of my thoughts. The worn leather sofa. The coffee table with a nick in the corner. The armchairs, one with a blanket half-sliding off…
I drift.
My free hand slides over the rough stone of the fireplace. The mantel holds a chipped mug stuffed with pens, a lighter, an old ticket stub from some away game. I move to the bookshelves. Histories, philosophy, poetry… Liam written all over them. Wedged between are a couple of joke books that scream Felix.
My feet keep going on their own, carrying me down the hallway toward their rooms. It’s dimmer here, walls lined with more framed team photos and bits of art… and I see one door is slightly ajar.
I pause, fingers tightening around the mug handle. I am aware taking a peek would not be what polite houseguests do… but I am also trapped, restless, and perilously close to alphabetizing their spice rack for entertainment.
“Just a peek,” I mutter, nudging the door open with my shoulder.
The room is a mess: team posters are plastered on the walls, jerseys slung over a chair, the bed is unmade with a bright gold comforter on top, and…
Sniff…
There’s a faint scent in the air. Something sweet I can't quite place.
I frown.
Am I smelling the faintest trace of an alpha's smell? That shouldn't be possible since I took a Duoblock last night, but…maybe my pill is already wearing off. Or maybe the smell is just leftover honey from tea or something.
Note to self: take another pill before lunch. Just in case.
Okay, peek achieved. I back out and pull the door closed.
