My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out, expecting a text from one of the Alphas—Tank checking in, maybe, or Elias sending a meme like he's been doing all week—but the number on the screen is one I don't recognize. No contact name. No area code I can place.
I open the message.
You can't hide forever.
My blood runs cold for half a second. Just half a second—long enough for the fear to spike before the anger takes over.
Speaking of the devil.
I roll my eyes—actually roll them, refusing to give whoever sent this the satisfaction of a reaction—and swipe to delete the message. The text vanishes from my screen, but I know it's just the beginning. They'll send more. They always do.
"What is it?" Ruby asks, noticing my expression. "You looked annoyed for a second there."
"Spam," I say, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "Just spam. You know how it is—random numbers sending ominous messages. Probably trying to get me to click on a phishing link orsomething. It's the digital equivalent of a fortune cookie written by a horror movie villain."
It's not spam. I know it's not spam. Someone from my family—or more likely, someone hired by my family—is trying to intimidate me. Trying to remind me that they're watching. That they haven't given up. That no matter where I run, no matter who I'm with, they'll find a way to reach me.
But I refuse to let them ruin this moment. This cozy morning with my friend. This feeling of hope that's slowly unfurling in my chest for the first time in longer than I can remember. They've taken so much from me already—my freedom, my sense of safety, my ability to trust. They don't get to take this too.
You can't hide forever? Watch me, you cowards.
Ruby studies me for a moment, like she's not entirely convinced by my explanation, but she lets it go. That's one of the things I love about her—she knows when to push and when to give space. She's always been good at reading rooms and reading people.
"So," she says, setting down her empty cup and fixing me with a curious look. "I have to ask—what are you going to do about your living arrangement?"
I blink. "My living arrangement?"
"You've been staying at Tank's place, right? Since the mixer?" Ruby tilts her head, her red hair catching the light from the Edison bulbs above us. "Are you planning to keep living there for the duration of this arrangement? Or are you going to find your own place? Or split time between the three of them?" She grins mischievously. "Rotating schedule, maybe? Monday and Tuesday with Tank, Wednesday and Thursday with Elias, weekends with Julian?"
Oh. That's... actually a really good question. One I hadn't fully thought through. One I probably should have considered before now.
I've been staying at Tank's house because that's where I ended up after the mixer, and no one has suggested otherwise. But Ruby has a point—if this arrangement is going to last until Valentine's Day, I need to figure out something more permanent than just crashing in Tank's guest room. Do I get my own apartment? Do I stay with the pack? Do they even want me there long-term, or am I overstaying my welcome?
And what happens after Valentine's Day? If the arrangement ends? Where do I go then? Back to my cramped little apartment that my family probably already knows about? Somewhere new? Somewhere they can't find me?
The questions multiply in my head like rabbits, each one spawning three more. There are so many logistics I haven't figured out yet. So many variables I'm pretending don't exist because thinking about them is overwhelming.
"Good question," I say finally, staring out the window at the falling snow. The world outside looks soft and peaceful, but my mind is suddenly full of logistics and uncertainties and questions I don't have answers to yet.
Good question indeed.
CHAPTER 21
Campfires And Confessions
~ROSEMARIE~
"Ihave a surprise for you."
Those are the words Tank uses when he picks me up after his shift, and honestly? I should have known something was up the moment I saw the rented Jeep instead of his usual truck. Tank doesn't rent vehicles. Tank doesn't do surprises. Tank is the kind of man who plans everything six steps ahead and considers spontaneity to be a sign of poor tactical awareness.
And yet here we are, driving down a winding road through dense forest, the trees pressing in on either side like they're trying to swallow us whole. Snow clings to the branches, turning the landscape into something out of a winter fairy tale. The late afternoon light filters through the canopy in soft gold streaks, making the fresh powder sparkle like someone scattered diamonds across the ground. Every now and then, a clump of snow slides off an overloaded branch and lands with a soft whump that makes me jump despite myself.
Where is he taking me? We've been driving for almost forty minutes, leaving behind the quaint streets of Oakridge Hollow and heading deeper into wilderness I didn't even know existed this close to town.
"This is a bit spontaneous for you," I observe, watching his profile as he navigates the increasingly narrow road. His jaw is set with concentration, but there's a softness around his eyes that I've come to recognize as Tank being pleased with himself. His hands grip the steering wheel with practiced ease, those large fingers that I've seen do everything from field-stripping weapons to cradling my face with impossible gentleness. "Let me guess—you probably had some kind of deal with Elias and Julian? Decided to make the first move before Elias could outsmart you?"
