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CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Sascha

Shortly after leaving Arch Rock, Sascha, Avery, and their pack are escorted off the island by local authorities. There were no tourists around during the long, brutal fight, but only because the warning howls of the Wilderness pack put the entire island into a state of emergency. The sheriff tuts as he supervises the seven of them boarding the boat, muttering “Fuckin’ animals” under his breath.

Neither Beryl nor the wolf shifter—Anise—have returned to their biped forms, and with their combined bulk, the rest of the pack barely fits on the vessel. In addition to Anise and Zuhr, the shy werecreature introduces himself as Sheridan, and Zuhr announces that she has a teenage brother, Charlie, who she’ll need to collect from the pack camp in Wilderness State Park.

While they’re sailing back to the mainland, lucky to have avoided handcuffs and criminal charges due only to the Parahuman Civil Compliance laws accommodating pack conflicts so long as no humans are hurt, Petra does her best to clean Avery’s injuries around the clothes he was fortunatelyable to climb into before the police arrived. Both backpacks were retrieved, along with Petra’s medical bag, before their dramatic exit parade.

Sascha winces when Petra picks bits of hair and debris from Avery’s left shoulder, which looks unsettlingly similar to raw hamburger. While most of Avery’s injuries were repaired when he shifted back, the worst of them didn’t heal fully. Aside from varying levels of exhaustion, everyone else is intact; it’s only Avery who remains damaged.

“Avery,” Petra says suddenly. “Are you still taking testosterone?”

At first, Avery blinks in surprise, but answers, “No. Haven’t been able to afford any, and there aren’t really endocrinologists who specialize in trans werecreatures.”

Petra blows air past her lips. “No wonder you can’t heal! Without your reproductive tract, your body isn’t producing estrogen to replace the testosterone, and total sex hormone deficiency like that is destroying your body. Fucking goddess, Avery. You’re lucky you aren’t in even worse condition than this.”

“That’s on the list of things to take care of, then,” Sascha says firmly.

Petra’s eyes slide over to Sascha. She watches him intently while spraying disinfectant over Avery’s mangled trapezius, then smiles when Sascha’s hand goes to the same spot on his own arm to ease the sudden sting that erupts there right as Avery hisses.

“What do you know?” Sascha asks, wrinkling his nose at her.

“I was wondering if you two would notice on your own, but you’re idiots,” Petra sniffs.

The three werecreatures watch curiously, while Anise stares over the side of the boat, seemingly ignoring them.

“Notice what?” asks Avery.

Petra smiles wider, then grins, then throws her head back and shakes with laughter.

Before they can interrogate her more, the boat reaches the shore at Mackinac City, and Sascha has to apologize to the officer tasked with supervising their departure as they all deboard. The officer suggests they make themselves scarce, which Sascha agrees with.

There’s only one problem.

“Fuck,” he says quietly. Avery raises his eyebrows. “We have seven people and no car. Beryl, can you shift back, please? We have clothes.” Sascha jostles the backpack over his shoulder; Zuhr has the other one.

Beryl produces a scratchy laugh, then trots off, presumably to find somewhere safe to detransform. Unsure what else to do, Sascha follows them, tailed by the rest of the pack.

“We need a pack name,” Sascha says when they stop in a quiet alley.

Avery laughs. “You dork. Let’s focus on getting back to Bliss first.”

Sascha sends him a helpless grin, then dips to kiss him. It’s only been a few hours since their last one, but he feels like it’s been so much longer. Avery wraps his arms around Sascha and buries his face in the crook of Sascha’s neck.

They disappear into each other, clinging and rocking gently, until Beryl says, “Are you two done?” They’ve shifted back and are fully dressed.

“No,” Avery says, muffled in Sascha’s shirt.

“Yes,” Beryl insists. Sheridan hisses Beryl’s name, and they raise their eyebrows. “What?”

“You can’t—” He flicks his eyes to Sascha and Avery, then back to Beryl.

“Can’t what?” Beryl props their hands on their hips. “What do you think this is, another Wilderness? If either of these guys speak to us like Celeste did, I’ll bite them.”

Avery bursts into laughter, then cuts off with a pained moan. “Stop being funny,” he whines. “Laughing hurts.”