The thought sends a flutter through my chest that I immediately quash. One date with Beau and I’m already spiraling about the whole pack. This is why rules exist.
When I pull up to the main barn, a woman is already waiting—small, dark hair braided into two long, thick plaits framing her face, a simple gray wool beanie pulled low over her head. Her arms are wrapped around herself and her puffy coat in a way that speaks of deep discomfort. Her cheekbones are wide, sharp, and stunning.
It takes me a moment to place her, but when I do, shock ripples through me.
“Saramaria?”
She looks up, and I see the recognition in her eyes. “Willa? Hi.”
Saramaria Cruz. We went to high school together. She was wild and fearless and full of life—the kind of Omega who never let anyone tell her what to do. But the woman standing in front of me now is nothing like that girl. She’s closed off, timid, her scent suppressants so strong they’re giving me a headache.
What happened to her?
“It’s been a while,” I say carefully.
“Yeah.” She doesn’t elaborate. An awkward silence stretches between us before she finally speaks again. “Thanks for coming. I know this isn’t exactly protocol.”
“Dr. Sage said there was a dog stuck?”
Her face crumples. “I’m sorry. Yeah, it’s my dog. He’s stuck in an old dry well about a mile from here.”
“How long has he been down there?”
“All night. I tried to get him out myself, but I can’t reach him and—” Her voice breaks.
“Show me where.”
We walk in silence, the distance stretching between us filled with questions I don’t know how to ask. What happened to the girl I knew? Why does she look so… broken?
The well appears suddenly, half-hidden by overgrown brush. And sure enough, I can hear whimpering from below.
“How deep?” I ask.
“Maybe ten feet? There’s an old ladder, but it’s rotted through in places.”
I peer over the edge. The dog, a golden retriever mix, is huddled at the bottom, clearly scared but not injured. The well is dry, thank god, but narrow.
“I can fit,” I say, already assessing the situation.
“Willa—” Saramaria starts.
“I’m taller than you, and besides, I grew up climbing things I shouldn’t. I’ve got this.”
It takes some maneuvering, but I manage to lower myself into the well, testing each rung of the ladder carefully. The dog whines when I reach him, but he lets me scoop him up. He’s heavier than he looks. I’m just thankful he’s not full-grown. I doubt I’d be able to haul a seventy-pound dog.
“Okay, Saramaria, I’m going to hand him up?—“
I make it four rungs before the dog starts trying to use me as a launching pad to get back to his owner. He makes a wild leap and manages to stick his feet on the edge, but isn’t able to pull himself all the way out.
The rung under my foot gives way with a crack.
I don’t fall—I catch myself on another rung—but now I’m stuck. The dog is too heavy to lift with one hand, and I can’t climb up without both hands free.
“Shit,” I mutter.
“Willa?” Saramaria’s face appears a few feet above me, pale with worry.
“I’m okay. Just… stuck. Can you take the dog?”
