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TILDA

T he Austin Pack may have its flaws, but laziness isn’t one of them. I’m woken early the next morning by someone pounding on the door, their fist hitting with enough force to rattle the walls. Groaning, I crack my eyes open to find the room still cloaked in darkness, save for a beam of golden light spilling in from under the door.

I miss the open sky. Yesterday wasn’t enough.

“Hold on!” Peaches grumbles from the direction of her bed. I listen as she fumbles her way to the door, her footsteps heavy with exhaustion. The door swings open, flooding the room with light, and Peaches is silhouetted in the frame. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty,” comes a voice from outside, definitely a woman’s. “Sun’s up, time to get a move on.”

“I didn’t volunteer for this part,” Peaches mutters, rubbing her eyes. “Let me just get Tilda?—”

“Oh no, you don’t,” the other voice cuts her off.

I toss the blanket aside and stretch, my neck popping as I try to work out the kinks from sleeping on Peaches’ sofa. It’s not terrible, but I’ll need to find something more permanent soon. My body’s got too many old wounds to tolerate subpar sleeping arrangements—especially after a gunshot wound that should’ve killed me.

Weirdly, though, I’m not as sore as usual.

I tell myself it’s not Reyes’ bite, but deep down, I know better.

Peaches groans and starts tugging on her pants under her loose sleep shirt, her hair a tangled mess as she ties it back. Meanwhile, the visitor steps into the room: a petite girl with dirty blonde waves falling around her shoulders.

“Elijah and I made a run to the city yesterday to get more seeds after we heard from Mateo,” she says, holding up a small sack. “I want to get started on this ASAP.”

“Veggies are important,” Peaches agrees groggily, clearly still waking up.

The girl turns to me, holding out her hand for a shake. “You must be Tilda.”

“And you are?”

“Charlotte,” she says, her grip surprisingly firm. “I’m fairly new here myself.”

“I presume you came here under different circumstances,” I say…and I’m surprised when I feel just a little embarrassed.

There’s no way I feel bad about trying to kill the guy who turned me and made me his hostage…right?

But Charlotte clicks her tongue. “Hm…not so different as you’d think. I’ll tell you all about it once we get to work. No time to waste.”

We throw on clothes and make our way through the tunnels, the early-morning quiet broken only by the shuffle of our footsteps. I’m relieved to find that Frankie isn’t lurking outside this time—Reyes must’ve spoken to her. The den feels like it’s still sleeping, most of the pack likely saving their energy for the night when hunting and raiding take place.

…if those things ever really happen.

I’m not so sure anymore.

Charlotte, however, seems like she’s been up for hours. Her pace is fast and purposeful, striding ahead even though I think I’ve got at least six inches on her.

The moment we reach the cavern mouth and step onto the prairie, I take a deep breath. The fresh air fills my lungs , the sky stretching wide above the wooden fence that marks the property’s boundary. This used to be a tourist destination in the Texas Hill Country, but now it’s a militarized zone.

It messes with my head how much this land has changed.

“Alright,” Charlotte says, spreading out seed packets on a weathered table outside. “I’ve got everything we need, I think. Where do we start?”

“You need more than just seeds,” I say, scanning the overgrown field. “We’ll need trimmers, spades, and something to mow down all this grass.”

“I think there’s an old push mower in the maintenance shed, but it’s probably rusted through,” Charlotte says with a shrug. “We’ll make do.”

“And tools?”

Peaches stretches her arms above her head. “Might be able to adapt some stuff from the garage. I’ll go check.”

“Good,” I say, hands on my hips as Peaches jogs off. I turn back to Charlotte. “Did you manage to get any fertilizer?”

“Working on it,” she admits. “Allies in the city are trying to scrounge up supplies, but they’re not exactly generous.”

“I thought you were all on the same side?”

“The rebels in the city think we’re monsters,” she says, like it should be obvious.

I pause, watching her as she starts to look around at the field. They…really?

Are the rebels that fractured? Why do they think the wolves are monsters?

Why do I care?

I shrug it off, filing it away in case it comes up again. “We’ll make it work. For now, save any organic waste—stems, veggie scraps, whatever. We’ll need to start composting, and I’ll need a barrel for that.”

“Got it,” she says with a nod. “What’s next?”

“See if you can grab that mower,” I say. “We need to clear this grass and plan the layout before we touch the seeds.”

Just then, a familiar scent—incense and red wine—rolls over me. I close my eyes, knowing exactly what it means. A moment later, Reyes appears, dragging not one but two push mowers behind him.

Of course.

“Figured you’d need these,” he says, his dark eyes glinting in the sunlight.

Charlotte beams at him, raising a hand in greeting. “Fancy seeing you up this early. What’s the occasion?”

“It didn’t seem fair to hand you this task without contributing,” he says, glancing at me. “And I wanted to check in.”

More like check up on me.

“I’m not up to anything,” I deadpan. “Just trying to get this grass mowed so we can start your little pet project.”

“Maybe I didn’t come to see you, Tilda,” he says, wrapping Charlotte in a one-armed hug.

She laughs, swatting at his chest. “Uncle Reyes, you didn’t have to come all the way out here just to check on me. I’m fine.”

“Just making sure you’re not slacking off,” he teases, his tone lighter than I’m used to hearing from him.

Ah. That explains a lot.

“Wait,” I say, raising an eyebrow. “You two are related?”

Charlotte grins, her hands resting on her hips. “Yep. Lucky me, huh? My long lust uncle is the boss around here.”

Reyes clears his throat, looking briefly uncomfortable before turning back to the mowers. “Figured I’d lend a hand since this is her project. And maybe keep you out of trouble while I’m at it.”

“Good luck with that,” Charlotte quips, shooting me a conspiratorial look.

“Shall we, then?” I ask, crossing my arms.

Reyes nods. “Ready when you are.”

* * *

We spend the better part of the morning mowing. It’s grueling, monotonous work, but that’s what starting from scratch looks like. A few more lycans join us as the day drags on, rotating through the push mowers to give each other breaks. Gasoline’s too valuable to waste on anything that doesn’t involve survival, so it’s all manual labor, all sweat and muscle.

By the time I finally collapse onto the ground, my shirt sticking to my back and sweat dripping down my temples, the plot is cleared. The field is small, but with only fifty or so people in the pack, it’ll be enough.

Charlotte plops down next to me, her hair sticking to her forehead as she hands her mower over to Reyes’ snarky redheaded buddy–Grant, I think. She passes me a cup of water, and I take it gratefully, gulping it down. I’ll have to figure out where the well is later for irrigation, but for now, I’m just glad for something cool to drink.

Charlotte tilts her head toward me, her tone casual but curious. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

She hesitates, choosing her words. “Reyes says you’re not… that you don’t want to be here. And that something happened between you two.”

“‘Something happened’ is a funny way to say ‘I bit someone and turned them lycan,’” I say.

Charlotte grimaces. “Yeah…I could scent the bite on you. Sorry, but it’s kind of a?—”

“Wolf thing, I know,” I interrupt, waving her off. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

“For what it’s worth, I get it,” she says. “It’s not exactly the same, but I didn’t know I was lycan until I came here. And, unfortunately, I found out during my first heat. Which was…not great.”

“You talk about it like it’s normal,” I mutter.

“It is now,” she says with a shrug. “But it wasn’t at the time. I was real mad at Elijah—my mate—for keeping my nature secret from me, even though he didn’t know himself.”

“Your mate,” I echo, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what y’all call your husbands here? I heard that word last night, too.”

“It’s…kind of like a spouse,” Charlotte explains, twirling her empty cup in her hands. “But different. Like, when you meet them, you just know. They smell…well, incredible.”

Her words bring Reyes to mind instantly—his scent of incense and red wine, even now mingling with the musk of sweat as he works on trimming the last bit of tall grass. I shake the thought away.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to how much you people talk about smells,” I say, laughing despite myself. “I’ve heard more about my ‘scent’ in the last three days than I have in my entire life.”

“You get used to that too,” Charlotte says with a grin. “Honestly, it’s not that different from being human. We’re just less shy about saying when we’re happy, when something smells nice, or, yeah, when we’re horny.” She blushes, then adds quickly, “And, of course, Elijah helped me figure it all out.”

She’s clearly smitten, and it’s contagious. I can’t help thinking about how my sister Enid blushes when she talks about boys.

God, I miss her.

I nudge Charlotte’s arm. “Alright, go on. Tell me about him. Who’s Elijah?”

Her face lights up. “It’s hard to explain,” she says, her cheeks flushing deeper. “I kinda hated him at first, but the more we talked, the more I realized how good he was. By the time I figured out what I was, I was already in too deep to walk away. There was no way I was giving him up.”

I glance at Reyes, catching the way the sun glints off his tan, shirtless back as he concentrates on trimming the grass. Something about the sight feels heavier than it should.

I turn back to Charlotte. “Did your uncle tell you to talk to me?”

“No,” she says earnestly. “I just thought you should know you’re not alone. Everyone comes here under different circumstances, and sometimes they’re complicated.”

I duck my head, feeling a little ashamed for even asking. “You know what I am, right?”

“A crusader? Yeah, I know,” she says, her voice softer now. “And my mate was one too.”

I blink, surprised. “Really?”

“Really.” She sighs, taking another sip of water. “Elijah was part of the Dallas Pack–participated in a lot of bad stuff. His pack is still under Angel command, but he ran away from it all. People weren’t happy when we first showed up, but they gave us a chance. And now? Now we have a home.”

“You don’t live in the den?” I ask.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “We’ve got a little cabin between here and the city so I can visit my grandparents. But I’m telling you this because…I don’t know. We’re used to seeing things in shades of gray here.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Was that a joke about dogs being colorblind?”

Charlotte nearly spits out her water, covering her mouth as she bursts into laughter. It’s loud enough to draw attention from the others, but she waves them off with a grin.

“Tilda!” she says, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t recommend repeating that, but it was pretty funny.”

“I’m not exactly known for my humor, so I’ll take it,” I say, smiling.

“I can see why Reyes likes you,” she says, her tone light but sincere.

That catches me off guard.

Reyes likes me?

Since when?