“Looks like the Wrights are already here,” Bishop said, nodding toward a black SUV parked by the entrance.
I groaned, pulling in beside it. “Of course they are.”
Bishop chuckled. “Maverick likes to be early for everything. Probably hasn’t been late to a damn thing since birth.”
We stepped out of the truck, the cool mountain air biting against my skin. Eyes tracked us from every direction—the way they always do at these things. The lodge sat nestled among the trees, quiet and tucked away, but inside it would be anything but. Shifter events were a controlled kind of chaos—half business, half territorial pissing contest.
Sure enough, Maverick and Tristan Wright were standing near the entrance, locked in conversation. Maverick, sharp-eyed and serious as ever, looked like he was picking apart some poor alpha’s business strategy. Tristan, cool and calculating, stood back, like he was already three moves ahead of everyone else.
Maverick’s gaze locked on us, his face breaking into a slight smirk. “Holden.”
“Wright.” I gave him a nod, keeping my voice casual.
Tristan’s half-smile tilted just enough to be annoying. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
I crossed my arms, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. “What, the Rockies not keeping you busy enough?”
Maverick’s smirk widened. “Just broadening our horizons.”
Bishop snorted beside me. “More like scouting competition.”
Maverick caught that without missing a beat. “Wouldn’t want your resort getting too comfortable.”
Bishop rolled his eyes. “Please. We’ve been running circles around you since day one.”
It was always like this with the Wrights—banter, but no real malice. Just the kind of rivalry that kept you sharp.
“You still tapping away on that computer of yours?” I asked Tristan, shifting the topic.
He shrugged, smooth as ever. “Someone has to make sure we don’t end up as front-page news.”
Maverick looked between Bishop and me. “What about you two? Finally taking some time off?”
I tensed before I could stop myself. “Something like that.”
Bishop, the traitor, leaned in with a grin. “More like running from something.”
I shot him a glare, but he just grinned wider. Maverick didn’t press, though. He gave us both a nod, his smirk lingering. “Well, try not to cause too much trouble.”
With that, the Wrights slipped back into the crowd, leaving us standing by the entrance.
Bishop nudged me with his shoulder. “You know you’d win this little pissing match you have with Maverick if you showed up with Mylo, right?”
I huffed out a breath, the thought settling heavier than I wanted it to.
“Yeah,” Bishop said, softer now. “But that’s not why you need to tell him.”
I knew he was right. Hell, I’d known it all along. But the idea of telling Mylo the truth—of watching his face shift into something I couldn’t take back—scared the shit out of me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MYLO
Holden had been gonefor four days now, and I was starting to lose it. Sure, he’d been texting—brief check-ins that reassured me he hadn’t vanished off the face of the earth or run screaming just because we had sex. He’d even called a few times, late at night, his deep voice rumbling in my ear, telling me about his day and asking about mine. It should’ve been enough—should’ve been comforting. But it wasn’t. Not really.
I didn’t know if it was because I felt like there was something he wasn’t saying.
But I wanted him here—not just on my phone. I wanted to be sure where we stood. I wanted to know if... I wasn’t even sure. The sex felt like a moment out of time. Maybe I needed dates... wooing.
