"You couldn't help yourself, could you?" I mutter to her under my breath.
"What was that?" Doc asks.
"Oh, nothing. Sorry. Umm, so, you have a hospital, a jail, a cafeteria…"
"Whatever a community needs. There's a laundry house, a blacksmith. We have carpenters, bakers, a brothel, treasurers who help us manage our community finances with the humans."
Did he just say brothel? I chew on the word before clearing my throat, moving on. "How does that work? With the humans, I mean."
"Well, the deltas mostly handle human relations—they have the skills for it. Alphas and betas can appear too aggressive, which creates… problems. Some deltas work in human-owned stores down the mountain, where our clan also owns several businesses—a diner, a trading post where we sell deer pelts and meat. Some of our more patient betas teach the humans wilderness workshops. It's a lucrative arrangement that keeps relations peaceful."
"And the humans know you guys are…"
"Wolves?" Doc chuckles. "Yes, they know. The locals don't bother us. We have a good relationship with them."
"Cool."
"Ha. Yes, it is cool."
"And the pack hierarchy? How does that come into play with how the community functions?"
"Clanhierarchy," he corrects. "Every wolf in Silent Peak chooses their work, regardless of rank, but naturally, more dominant wolves will gravitate toward positions of strength. Like the enforcers."
"Like Andrea and Stance?"
Doc sighs. "Yes." It seems, for a moment, like he's going to elaborate, or apologize for their behavior again, but instead, he holds back. We arrive at the cafeteria a few minutes later.
The sliding barn doors hang open, revealing several rows of picnic tables lining old wooden floors. There are industrial-sizeddrink coolers, tables stacked high with mismatched plates, bowls and cups, steaming platters of food, baskets overflowing with bread rolls, and slices of meat. No plastic anywhere.
Late morning sun floods the space. Simple electric lanterns—now off—hang low from the vaulted ceiling.
I've always been sensitive to neon, even before Beep. Maybe Doc was right. Maybe I have always been more wolf than not, because I've never felt like I belonged anywhere until now.
It's such a small thing. Low lighting. And yet, it feels like another thing clicks into place. No more sensory overload from lights, sounds, smells—everything here is just… perfect.
People eat their last bites of breakfast, sipping drinks and carrying on conversation, but as we step inside, the room falls silent. A hundred pairs of eyes swivel toward us.
I've never been a particularly shy person, but my cheeks flame with embarrassment and I want to bury my head behind Doc's shoulder. Across the room, a woman with a cloud of blue-ish white hair and a midnight-blue shift dress pops up with surprising dexterity and begins weaving between tables in our direction. Other people rise from their chairs, smiling and waving enthusiastically.
Doc huffs. "We told everyone to act normal, I swear."
I laugh nervously, but before I'm forced to make small talk, Doc shuffles me through a small door at the back of the dining hall.
"Trust me, once Elder Cora catches you, you'll never escape," he chuckles as we push into the kitchen. The room is sweltering—above us, skylights crank open, just enough to allow the steam from various boiling pots to escape.
We walk through the crowded kitchen, and though we've never met, I know it's Hilde instantly when we find a petite woman barking orders at three kitchen assistants—deltas I think—who quickly scramble to obey.
I recognize her scent from the basket of food Orion gave me yesterday, but she's not what I expected. I'd pictured someone a little older, but then again, with near immortality, I suppose she could be two hundred. But she appears to be in her late forties, with straight black hair and a hint of gray at the temples, tied at the nape of her neck. Though barely five-feet, she's built like other female shifters I've seen—lean, muscular, all angles and sharp lines. Her red plaid shirt and faded blue jeans make her look more like a lumberjack than the clan's revered head cook.
As we approach, Hilde's stern expression transforms, and she rushes toward me with open arms. My body stiffens at first, but like when Doc held my hands earlier, when she wraps her arms around me, it feels like my omega is sharing energy. The warmth both fills my chest and spills out of me.
"Mona, I am so happy to finally meet you!" Hilde squeezes me tight, then clasps my shoulders and holds me back, taking in my features, like I'm her long-lost niece or something. Her eyes rake over me, cataloging everything.
"It's nice to meet you, too," I sputter when she hauls me in for another bone-crunching hug. I catch Doc over her shoulder chuckling to himself. I widen my eyes, hoping for a little bit of help, but he only smiles bigger.
Finally, she releases me. Sort of. One hand stays wrapped around my arm. And that same serene look passes her face, nostrils flaring.
Her wolf accepts us as her omega. This is precious. Be patient,Beep tells me.
