More than fair. Thank you.
“Same time tomorrow if you want it,” Gideon said gruffly. “We'll see how long it takes you to realize what you've gotten yourself into.”
Cal laughed. “Don't scare him off on the first day, boss. Kid's got potential.”
“Potential to run screaming when he sees what passes for our safety standards,” Mason added.
I'll be here,I wrote, and meant it.
Walking home through the forest paths, I felt lighter than I had in months. Not just because of the money in my pocket or the promise of learning something useful. But because for a few hours, I'd been valued for what I could do, not who I was supposed to become.
For the first time in years, the future felt like something I might actually have a say in shaping.
That feeling lasted exactly until I reached the edge of Callahan property and heard my phone buzzing with a text from Nate.
Nate
Bonfire at the Old Mill tonight. You coming?
My first instinct was to make an excuse. Parties meant crowds, and crowds meant people watching me, waiting for me to live up to or fail to meet whatever expectations they had for the Alpha's heir. Parties meant noise and chaos and all the social dynamics I'd spent three years learning to avoid.
But the text was from Nate, and saying no to Nate had become physically impossible somewhere around the time he'd trusted me with his parents and his room full of photographs and the sound of his laughter.
Evan
I'll be there.
The Old Millat night was a different creature than the abandoned ruin I'd grown up exploring. Someone had hauled in logs for seating, strung lights between the trees, and built a bonfire that roared high enough to cast dancing shadows acrossthe rusted machinery. Music thumped from a bluetooth speaker, too loud and bass-heavy, while twenty-some teenagers clustered around the flames with red solo cups.
I lingered at the edge of the clearing, wolf instincts making my skin crawl with awareness of exits and potential threats. Too many people, too much noise, too many scents all tangled together until I couldn't sort friend from stranger from rival.
“There you are,” Nate's voice cut through the chaos, warm and familiar and instantly grounding. “I was starting to think you'd chickened out.”
He appeared at my elbow with that crooked grin that made my chest do stupid things, camera hanging around his neck and hair mussed like he'd been running his fingers through it. Which he probably had—it was a nervous habit I'd cataloged along with all the other small details that made up Nate Harrington.
“Almost did,” I admitted, raising my voice to be heard over the music.
“But you didn't.” He nudged my shoulder with his, casual contact that sent heat racing through my nervous system. “Come on, live a little. When's the last time you did something just because it was fun?”
I couldn't remember. Couldn't think of a single moment in recent memory when I'd chosen to do something purely for enjoyment instead of duty or obligation or the careful maintenance of Alpha heir image.
The realization was depressing enough to make me follow Nate toward the fire.
The next hour passed in a strange suspension of normal reality. Nate moved through the crowd like he belonged there, snapping photos of laughing classmates and firelit faces, drawing me into conversations with people I'd barely spoken to in three years of shared classes. He had this way of makingeverything feel easy, natural, like being social was just another skill he'd mastered through sheer determination and practice.
I mostly listened, contributed the occasional nod or one-word response, but even that felt like a victory. Being present instead of hiding. Existing in the same space as my classmates without feeling like I was wearing a neon sign that advertised my weirdness.
“Evan!”
A familiar voice cut through the noise, warm and bright as summer sunshine. I turned to see Sienna picking her way through the crowd, her dark hair catching firelight and her smile wide enough to power the whole bonfire.
She'd grown into herself over the past few years, the scared eleven-year-old who'd followed me and Jonah into the forest replaced by someone confident and sure of her place in the world. Pack bonds hummed between us, that comfortable familial affection that came from years of shared secrets and mutual protection.
“There you are,” she said, settling onto the log beside me with the easy grace of someone who belonged everywhere she went. “I've been looking for you.”
Her eyes found Nate immediately, curiosity sparking in their brown depths. Sienna had always been the most socially fearless of our little pack unit, the one who could make friends with strangers and charm adults into submission without breaking a sweat.
“And you must be the famous Nate Harrington,” she continued, extending a hand toward him with a grin that could have melted glaciers. “I'm Sienna. I've heard so much about you.”
