“Josie’s in the house,” Willa says, leading me toward the door that connects the barn to the clinic’s living quarters. “She made cocoa. She refuses to leave until she’s sure I’ve eaten something.”
The house is warm and cluttered, filled with books and medical journals and piles of clean laundry. Josie’s in the kitchen, standing by the stove. She turns when we walk in, her eyes softening when she sees me.
“There she is,” Josie says, enveloping me in a hug that smells of vanilla and old books. “What have you been up to?”
I run through everything with my mind before landing on the simplest. Wellsy. They both listen as I explain how the little rascal ran off in the middle of the night.
“You could’ve been really hurt,” Willa says. “Maybe we should look at putting a bell on that puppy before it puts you in danger.”
“I had to find the dog,” I say, accepting a mug of hot chocolate from her. “And it’s our dog. I didn’t want to risk looking like a reckless co-parent.”
“I would never think of you as reckless,” Willa says sweetly.
“Sit. Both of you,” Josie says, and then, turning to me, adds, “You’ll love my hot cocoa.”
We sit at the small kitchen table. The cocoa is rich and dark, with melting marshmallows on top. It warms me from the inside out.
Willa wraps her hands around her mug, staring into the dark liquid. “So,” she says quietly. “How are you holding up?”
I almost laugh. I’m the one who is supposed to ask her that. “I’m... managing. How are you, babe?”
She groans. “I’m okay. I don’t want to think about it. Please distract me. How’s it going with your squatters?”
“Not great. The Alphas still refuse to leave.”
“I’m sorry,” Willa says. “That sounds incredibly stressful.”
“It is,” I admit. “But I’m more worried about you. I heard... rumors in town. People saying terrible things.”
Willa flinches slightly. “I’ve heard them. Or rather, I’ve heard that people are saying them. Beau and Charlie have been running interference, keeping me away from the phone and the internet. They say it’s bad. That a lot of people are blaming me.”
“Blaming you?” I ask, my blood heating up. “How is that even possible?”
“Because I was in heat,” Willa says, her voice devoid of emotion. “Because I went to the headquarters alone. Because I didn’t have a chaperone. Apparently, in some people’s eyes, that’s the same as asking for it.”
“That’s disgusting,” I say, slamming my mug down on the table. Josie jumps, then nods in agreement.
“Tell me about it.” Willa sighs. She takes a sip of her cocoa. “But honestly, I don’t care what the town says. I know what happened. Jack knows what happened. My pack knows what happened. That’s the only truth that matters.”
“Your pack is solid?” I ask.
“They’re incredible,” Willa says, and for the first time, a real light enters her eyes. “Beau is... he’s my rock. He’s so angry, but he’s trying so hard to keep it together for me. Charlie is always protecting me. And Jake... he’s surprisingly fierce about it.” She traces the rim of her mug. “We’re actually heading to Cheyenne in a little bit.”
“Cheyenne?”
“To register,” she says. “With the Omega Protection Service. We want to make it official. We want the pack to be formally recognized in the system.”
I frown. The OPS is a relic, a bureaucratic dinosaur left over from a darker time in our history. It functions mostly as a catalog, a way for the government to keep tabs on bondedpairs and packs. It’s invasive and often humiliating, involving physicals and background checks and interviews that treat Omegas like breeding stock.
“You’re going through that?” I ask. “Willa, you don’t have to do that to be a pack.”
“I know,” she says. “But with everything happening... Jack was high up in the APBRA. He had connections. If this turns into a legal battle—and it might—we need every protection we can get. If we’re registered, the law has to acknowledge our bond. It makes it harder for people to... interfere. Or claim I’m being coerced.”
The logic is sound, but it makes me sad that she has to jump through these hoops just to feel safe.
“Charlie mentioned something else,” Willa continues, looking at Josie. “He heard from one of the riders that the APBRA is thinking about postponing the whole circuit. Indefinitely.”
Josie nods. “I heard that too. Gus was talking about it at the bar last night before he closed up. He thinks the sponsors are pulling out.”
