The coffee between us had gone cold, just like the eggs Ma brought up an hour ago. I watched Juliet’s fingernails dig crescents into the palms of her hands. She hadn’t touched the file folder I’d laid on her table either—the one holding birth certificates going back three generations, each marked with the Iron Valor MC’s wolf-head seal next to DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH stamps.
“Your mother kept secrets,” I started, then immediately hated myself for sounding like a damn Lifetime movie. My ring clinked against the ceramic mug as I turned it slowly. Noticed the chip on the handle from when Bridger dropped it last summer. Anything to avoid watching her face when I said the next part. “Some bloodlines would rather forget what they carry. This is going to sound incredible, Juliet. But there are some things in this world that defy belief. There are supernatural beings among us. Witches, animal shifters, and even vampires exist and have for thousands of years. Just hidden from human eyes.”
Juliet’s knuckles went bone-white around her teaspoon. She gave a skeptical laugh. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that I’m part werewolf.”
“Shifter,” I corrected. Her kitchen smelled like lemons and the cedar sachets Pearl tucks in every drawer. Normal things.Safe things. “Difference matters. We don’t lose control during full moons. Don’t need silver bullets to die. But yeah, darlin’. You’ve got Ashbourne blood running through those veins. And that’s an ancient shifter bloodline.”
“We?”
I slid the folder closer, flipping to the 1940s pack records. “Iris Ashbourne Barrett—your great-grandma—helped lead the Ashbourne pack out of the depression in Nebraska. Kept that part of the county fed when the banks failed. But she went on to marry a human male. That made her daughter Amina, your grandmother carry only half-shifter blood.”
Juliet continued to shuffle papers as she listened. She stopped when I paused. Her face turned to mine, eyebrows up. “Please don’t leave me hanging, Bronc. I’m dying to get to my part in this twisted fairytale.” She sipped her probably now cooled tea.
Deep breath taken, I continued. “So, Amina Barrett, your grandmother, who is only 50 percent wolf shifter blood married your grandfather, William Farris—a fully human male. Have doubts as to whether or not these males are oblivious to your grandmothers’ wolfs’ traits, however. Amina wanted nothing to do with pack life and culture. She left Nebraska and the pack. Normally when a wolf cuts itself off from its pack, it goes rogue—feral. But since she was just half-blood, this did not happen to her. She lived a life as a human, as you know.”
The folder slammed shut and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Finally,nowwe’re getting to the pertinent part. Dear sweet Mother.”
“Your mother was born with quarter-shifter blood. Again, she put her shifter heritage in the rearview by marrying your completely human father. But by you telling me about private doctors and how discreet things were, I wonder how much she kept quiet to your father about it.”
She scoffed a laugh that cracked halfway. “My mom? Quarter-shifter? What’s that even mean—she turns into a chihuahua every third Thursday?”
A shadow of concern passed across her face when I spoke. “It’s likely she can sense storms before they hit. Heal faster than most, like you. She probably has keener hearing than most. Her sense of smell and taste are likely heightened. Not things you could physically notice, but are there, nonetheless. Keeping things from your father would have been difficult. And I can’t say for certain whether she knew about you. Your traits presenting as…”
Her spoon clattered onto the cup’s saucer. “I’m what, some throwback?”
“Omega.” The word hung between us, heavier than it had any right to be. “Rarest of our females. Not alpha or beta—you’re the glue. The calm in the storm. And always paired with an alpha.” My thumb found the scar under my jaw from Fallujah. Old habit. “Together, we’re more than the sum. You’ve felt it.”
She stood so fast the wrought-iron chair screeched against hardwood. “Felt what? Wolf traits? That I hear wolves singing from miles away? That I know what Pearl is cooking when her doors and windows are closed? And I’m attracted to you? D’uh, have you looked in a mirror? Every single woman within a 10-mile radius wants you in her bed. It has nothing to do with wolf genes.” Her laugh tasted bitter, just like the coffee I finally choked down. “And even if it was. You’ve found yourself an incredible bookkeeper with stellar DNA. And so what? Sounds like what I’d guess a typical shifter could do. What’s so Omega about any of that?”
I caught her wrist as she moved past. Not hard. Just enough to feel the racing pulse under her skin. “Your size is the first clue. You maybe didn’t notice, but all the other women in the pack dwarf you. And not by a little. You are tiny in every way compared to them. Gunshots from the rifle range don’t faze you in the least. You blaze through all of those numbers and calculations in a snap.Can calm a customer’s temper with just a word, I’m sure you could calm pack members even easier given the opportunity? And last week—”
“Leave it.”
“When that pallet of oil cans slipped in the shop,” I pushed anyway, rising to meet her glare, “you moved Menace out of the way five seconds before they would have crushed him.”
Her free hand gripped the fridge handle. White-knuckled, shaking. “I’ve always had good instincts.”
“Not like that.”
We stood there breathing each other’s air for six heartbeats. Seven. Her scent hit me first—the lilac soap from her shower, then her unmistakable ginger and burned sugar. Underneath, the crisp ozone crackle that made my wolf stir. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
“If I’m this… omega thing,” she whispered, “why don’t I have…” A vague gesture at her own body. “Fangs? Fur? Whatever.”
The relief almost buckled my knees.Asking means she’s considering it’s possible.I kept my hold light, thumb brushing her inner wrist. “Same reason some hybrids only get claws. Mixed blood needs a catalyst. For one of your ancestors, it was nearly bleeding out after childbirth. For you?”
Her pulse kicked. “You.”
“Our bond,” I corrected. I let go before I did something stupid like pull her closer. “Alphas and omegas… it’s deep. Beyond biological. Once claimed—”
“Claimed?” She backed up until the fridge handle dug into her spine. “Like property?”
“Like partners.” I spread my hands—nonthreatening, open. Military training kicking in. “It’s consent, Juliet. Always. But once bonded, your latent traits awaken. Strength sharpens. Senses heighten. And with time…”
“Shifting.” She breathed the word like a prayer. Or a curse.
I nodded toward the canyon visible through her kitchen window. “Imagine running those ridges without getting winded. Tracking game by scent alone. Protecting everything you love with more than just gritted teeth.”
Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon where earth met sky in a jagged line. “And if I say no? To all of it?”
