Page 27 of Alphas Like Us

Farrow rubs a thumb against the back of my neck. “Loud and clear,” he tells me. “We’ll let him know.” He gestures for Ace Steel to come over, and the man who stands up looks like a Spartan warrior with gunmetal eyes, a quarterback build, and stubble along a hard jaw. He’s older than me, probably around Farrow’sage.

And he wears a tux like he has millions of dollars tospare.

My phone startsringing.

Farrow looks at me, and I dig my hand in the pocket of my greenjeans.

I clutch my phone and check the caller ID:WinonaMeadows.

Sulli’s littlesister.

“It’s Winona,” I tell Farrow, since Charlie has disappeared into an empty row ahead, slouching on top of a seat, sunglasses stillon.

It’s family. I don’t want to ignore her, but there’s a porn star currently squeezing his way out of a row to meet me. And…I don’t want to leave him with Farrow. My boyfriend sees my confliction, and says, “Go,” he nods towards the door. “I can deal with thisguy.”

Ihesitate.

“Maximoff,” he urges. “Go.” Farrow sends me a single look that says,I’ll catch up with you later, wolfscout.

“I’ll be back,” I tell him and quickly put my phone to my ear. Walking up the aisle, I glance backward just to see Ace approach Farrow and extend ahand.

Farrow doesn’t shake it and instead starts talking, lips moving rapidly but casually. Always at ease during tornadicactivity.

My lips lift, settled with this decision. But then Winona’s voice fills my ear in a mad rush, and I stop in the middle of the aisle. My smile falls, and I start mentally gatheringbattalions.

“Moffy, it’ll be past my curfew soon, so hey, let’s skip the wholeyou shouldn’t be here, Nonabit and tackle the important parts,” she says in onebreath.

Before I can reply, she’s going on, “We need to talk to you. I think it might be bad, really bad. You don’t need to say anything yet. I’m about to text you all the details.” She hangsup.

So you know Winona Briar Meadows as the fourteen-year-old fearless animal lover with a spirit as wild as the Meadows family. You follow her Instagram account that’s littered with nature photography and rock climbing excursions. If she’s not advocating for animal rights with Ben Cobalt, then she’s hanging with her girl squad and keeping to herself. You beg her to post more selfies, and you criticize her when shedoesn’t.

I know her as Nona, my cousin who could practically be my little sister. Who I used to carry on my shoulders through the Costa Rican forest while she snapped photos of every damn thing: the leaves, the dirt, the ants and the trees. She would bloody her hands, run off a cliff, and split open her heart for any living thing, and it’sterrifying.

Fair Warning: I will decapitate you with a rusted blade if you fuck with this one, and she’ll probably try to stopme.

My head is spinning on Nona’s wordswe shouldn’t be hereandbadand the “we” inwe need to talk to you. Who’s with her? Where are they? And what the fuckhappened?

Near the double door entrance, I spotJane.

She’s stuck chatting with the old woman who bought her. I flag down Janie, and she pries herself away from our grandmother’s friend. Strutting down the aisle, her banana purse thwacks herhip.

I haven’t talked to my best friend all night, and she’s one of the people I’d want on my side during a shitstorm.

I catch Jane’s hand. “Bonsoir, ma moitié,” I say, kissing hercheeks.

“It’s just you and me, old chap,” she replies. “And the older crew, security, and about two-thousand dreadfully stuffysocialites.”

Cameras flash as we greet one another, and her blue eyes dart to the left, but not for long. She pushes her wavy hair off her shoulder. “Now that you’re public with Farrow, one would think they’d care less about analyzing ourfriendship.”

“That’s too predictable, huh? I guess our friendship is justthatgood.”

She smiles brightly, but her lips downturn as my phone vibrates in my fist. “I know that look. Who’s introuble?”

“Winona. We may need to leave early.” I slip next to Jane so she can skim the text with me. The message has a ton of random nature and animalemojis.

Ben drove us to the Philly Orchestra Hall. We ditched paparazzi, and we’re parked in this dead-end alley thing on the side. We’re waiting here for you. Please come to talk. It’s very very important.–Winona

“Their personal bodyguards are here for the event, aren’t they?” I askJane.