Prologue
Slater
I grab my bag from the car and head inside the house. Unsurprisingly, it’s dark and quiet. My roommates are probably still asleep. I don’t turn on any lights as I make my way to my room. I don’t make it all the way to my room before the front door opens behind me. I don’t have to use my shifter sight to know that it’s Reid; I can smell his scent. “You just get back from your game?” he asks quietly, so we don’t wake whoever’s currently sleeping. I nod and watch as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Congrats on the win,” he calls out quietly.
“Thanks.” I’m ready to head to my room, but he stops me.
“Zane wants us to help move Evie today.”
“When?”
“This morning around nine.”
I take that in. “I’ll be ready.” I’m ready to head to my room, but I can see he’s stressed about something. His movements are jerky, and his body is tense. Reid’s usually pretty chill, so I know something’s off. I drop my bag and head to the kitchen; I need to make a smoothie anyway. I grab the spinach from the fridge and wash it and tear off the stems before dropping the spinach in the blender. “Something happen to Riley?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
He turns to me, shoulders tense. “What do you mean?”
I face him. “You’re carrying a lot of tension in your body. Something happen to your mate?”
He goes unnaturally still. “You know.” It’s not a question.
I go back to making my smoothie. “Yeah.”
“How?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’m the future enforcer; it’s my job to know.” I don’t tell him that it’s so painfully obvious every time Riley’s in the same room as him. I’m pretty sure she has no clue. She’s not eighteen and wouldn’t know yet, like Reid knows. He would have found out when he turned eighteen that she was his mate. “Just like I know you patrol her house nearly every night after she goes to bed, and she has no idea.” He glances over his shoulder, and I know what he’s thinking. “Zane doesn’t know,” I assure him quietly.
Relief fills his face for a moment. “Good.”
“Yeah, because he’ll probably try to kill you,” I mutter under my breath. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Which one?” he asks, not letting me pass when I try to leave the kitchen with my smoothie.
I meet his gaze head-on. “Both of them.” I won’t tell Zane that his baby sister is Reid’s mate, or that Reid guards her house every single night. That’s Reid’s story to tell. He finally lets me pass.
“Thanks.”
“Are Evie and Zane here?” I ask as I walk past him.
“She slept in her dorm room last night.” That answers the whereabouts for both of them. If Evie slept in her dorm, then Zane would have spent the night circling it, making sure she was safe. I walk over to where I dropped my bag and pick it up. “Be ready to leave a little before nine,” Reid says from behind me.
“Yep.” I finally make it to my room and close the door behind me, ready to unwind. I drop my bag onto my bed and start unpacking. It doesn’t take me long to finish, and I hang the bag in my closet. After a long, hot shower, I’m finally ready to climb into bed. It will take me at least another hour before I can sleep. I grab my headphones and turn on my music; it's the only way for me to come down after being with people for too long. I love soccer, but I hate the road trips. Being stuck in a bus or on aplane for hours on end with my teammates sucks out parts of my soul. After hours of noise, it’s good to finally find peace. A glance at my phone shows I only have about two hours to sleep before we meet to leave. Two hours isn’t a lot, but it will have to be enough. I’ve gone with less.
Somebody hits my door, jerking me awake. “We leave in ten,” Quint calls out and then walks away.
I shake my head and try to wake completely up. I change into an FMU soccer shirt and shorts and my sneakers. I pocket my phone and keys and head out. Quint and Reid are both near the front door. “I’ll drive.” I walk past both of them and open the front door.
“Congrats on the win last night,” Quint says as we make our way to my truck. He climbs into the backseat, and Reid sits in the passenger seat. “Did you get to enjoy Thanksgiving at all?” Quint asks.
“We had turkey sandwiches on Thursday,” I offer.
“Nothing says Thanksgiving like a cold turkey sandwich,” Quint says dryly.
“What’d you do?” I ask.
“Had a normal Thanksgiving at home with all the fixins, and I ate all day.”
“So, a normal day then,” Reid quips.
