Page 8

8

TILDA

J ust like that, I’m back in the dark.

The blindfold presses over my eyes, robbing me of any sense of direction as Reyes guides me through the den’s winding corridors. They twist and turn in such bizarre patterns that even if I could see, I’d have trouble memorizing the path. All I have to rely on is his hand on my elbow—firm, steady, and infuriatingly present. Every time his fingers brush against my skin, a prickle runs up my arm, electric and unwelcome.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The air between us is thick, charged, and I hate it.

We both know what’s happening now.

And it’s all fake.

I like his smile because he bit me. I check him out because of whatever Alpha Prime bullshit he pulled. I keep finding myself listening to him, following his lead, because his stupid wolf powers are messing with my head.

I grit my teeth, seething silently.

I hate this.

I hate him.

The sound of a knock breaks through the silence, followed by the groan of a door opening. A familiar voice floats toward me—soft, hesitant.

“Well, hiya, chief!” Peaches says. “I didn’t expect?—”

“Can you watch her?” Reyes cuts her off. His voice is low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. For once, it sounds like I’ve managed to crack that calm, collected exterior of his.

Good.

“Yeah,” Peaches mutters, sounding unsure. “Sure. Should I just…keep her blindfolded when I’m leadin’ her around?”

My stomach tightens, and I hold my breath, waiting for his response.

“It doesn’t matter,” Reyes finally says, his voice quieter now, almost tired. “She’s going to be here for a few weeks. Not going to force her to stumble around blind the whole time.”

Peaches hesitates, then nods. “Oh. Okay. Yeah. So, uh…I’ll see you for dinner later?”

Reyes doesn’t answer. Instead, he gives me a slight push toward her, and I stumble forward, catching myself just before I crash into Peaches. She grabs me by the elbows, steadying me as I let out a frustrated grunt.

Without thinking, I yank the blindfold off and toss it onto the floor–then I stomp on it for good measure. Who even has ties these days anyway? “He’s such an asshole,” I snap, not even bothering to lower my voice.

Peaches freezes, her eyes going wide as she glances over my shoulder.

“He’s still right there,” she whispers.

I turn slowly, my jaw tightening as I meet Reyes’ gaze. He stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his brow drawn into a scowl that could cut glass. The tension between us simmers, a taut string ready to snap.

“Bye,” I say, waving my fingers at him.

He doesn’t say a word. His eyes linger on mine for a beat too long, then he turns and pulls the door shut behind him.

I turn to Peaches, whose jaw is practically on the floor. “So, I guess that didn’t go well?” she asks.

I take a sharp breath, crossing my arms. “Nope. He had a lot of explaining to do, and—surprise—he sucked at it. And honestly? You’re not off the hook either.”

Peaches flinches, her shoulders hunching. “I’m so sorry, Tilda. I only knew he bit you because I could…uh, scent him on you, and?—”

“Scent him on me?” I echo, incredulous.

Her face flushes, and she waves her hands in a frantic attempt to explain. “Sorry! I keep forgetting you’re not lycan. That probably sounds…weird. Sorry.”

“You’ve said that, like, three times now,” I say dryly.

Peaches squeezes the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “It’s not—it’s just—ugh. It’s not a weird thing. I mean, okay, it is, but not in the way you’re thinking.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re really not helping.”

“Ugh!” Peaches groans, dragging a hand down her face. “I am so not the right person to explain this. I’m bad with words. Will or Magnolia would be way better at this…”

I should probably ease up on her; she’s the first person here who hasn’t looked at me like I’m a ticking time bomb. I take a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax, and bite my lip to keep from snapping again. As I try to center myself, my gaze drifts around the room.

It’s way more lived-in than Reyes’ spartan quarters. Little odds and ends–old world artifacts, souvenirs, tchotchkes–are tucked into wooden shelves lining the walls, and there’s even a cozy sofa with a pastel crocheted granny square blanket draped over it.

It’s sweet, really. Very Peaches.

“Okay,” I say, softening my tone. “Can you at least try to explain? This is all new to me. Everything I know about lycanthropy is from the Heavenly Host, and—well, let’s just say I’m starting to think they weren’t exactly thorough.”

Peaches snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh, they definitely didn’t tell you the whole story. But hey…” She hesitates, glancing at me with a sheepish smile. “I still haven’t gotten you any clean clothes. Wanna get changed first, and then we can talk?”

Her kindness takes the edge off my frustration, and I find myself returning her smile despite everything. “Yeah,” I say. “That would be great. Thanks.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, I sink into the sofa while Peaches perches cross-legged on the bed. She’s managed to scrounge up a pair of shorts for me—they’re a little loose since she’s shorter and curvier, but at least they fit well enough. The oversized T-shirt she handed over swallows my frame, hanging off my shoulders.

“Not much of a fashion statement,” I mumble, tugging at the shirt. “But I’ll take it.”

Peaches smirks. “Hey, I said I’d find you clothes, not style you.”

I glance down at my legs, which seem to stretch forever in the ill-fitting shorts. My right thigh catches my attention—the mottled scars from a gunshot years ago glaring back at me. I shift uncomfortably, but Peaches doesn’t give it more than a passing glance, her focus already elsewhere.

She doesn’t ask. Doesn’t stare. That alone makes me breathe a little easier. Around here, scars probably aren’t unusual.

“So,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “You gonna tell me more about all this wolf stuff, or are you sworn to secrecy?”

Peaches hesitates, her teeth working over her bottom lip as her gaze flickers to the door. “Technically, he didn’t say not to explain,” she mutters. “And honestly, it’s not fair to keep you in the dark.”

“Damn right,” I say, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “Seems like Reyes likes running things with an iron fist.”

She shakes her head, frowning. “Not really. He’s still figuring it out—his powers as Prime, I mean. It’s not like he’s trying to be bossy all the time.”

“Prime,” I echo. “What exactly does that mean?”

Peaches perks up, sitting a little straighter. “Oh, wow. Okay, so you really don’t know anything. Got it. Uh, you know how in lycan squads under the Heavenly Host, the Angel in charge always leads the pack?”

I nod. “Commanders, yeah.”

“Exactly. But when a pack is free from the Host, leadership doesn’t go to some Angel. It defaults to the strongest alpha—the one who’s biggest, toughest, and, well…most Prime. That’s Reyes.”

“So, what? He’s been doing this for two years, tops?” I ask, raising a brow. The Austin Pack is still growing, brand new in the grand scheme of things. It all starts to make a little more sense.

“Yeah. And trust me, he wasn’t expecting it. I think he still struggles with it—like, everything he says carries weight, whether he means it to or not. It’s like…instinct. We can’t help but listen to him, even when he’s just makin’ a suggestion.”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” I mutter.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” Peaches says quickly. “I mean, it can be intense, but Reyes is…different. He’s not the kind of Prime who uses his power to hurt people. Not like the one in the Gulf Pack.”

I can tell there’s a story there, but I get the feeling Peaches doesn’t want to tell it. I chew on what she’s said for a moment before asking, “So…anyone he bites is effectively brainwashed?”

She frowns. “Not really. You still have agency. But you’re just…you’re lycan now. The bite infected you. I don’t really know what else to say.”

My brow furrows. “Wait a second. Does that mean I can shift?”

Peaches hums. “I don’t know. You could try it.”

“I don’t think I really want to.”

“Well, maybe it will happen on accident eventually.”

I blow out a heavy breath. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“I know,” she admits with a wince. “But I promise, life here is better than it is with other packs. Reyes may not be perfect, but he’s not cruel. You’re safer here than you’d be anywhere else.”

I snort. “So I should just forgive him because he’s ‘not cruel’?”

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head quickly. “No! God, no. I’m not saying that at all.”

I sigh, forcing myself to relax. She’s just trying to help. “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t be snapping at you. It’s just a lot. Back home, people call me ‘Testy Tilda’ for a reason.”

Peaches giggles, the sound light and disarming. “Homestead, right? That’s where you’re from?”

I tense up at the mention of my home, a reminder that the wolves now know exactly where to go if they want to do some damage to the remaining Heavenly Host allies in this part of Texas. Peaches must notice because she leans forward, her expression softening.

“Tilda,” she says gently. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I’m not gonna rat you out. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

I force a smile, nodding slowly. “Thanks. I just…I’ll share more when I know you better, okay? Promise.”

“Fair enough,” she says, leaning back with an easy shrug. “No rush.”

“Back to this wolf stuff,” I say, leaning forward. “I have about a million more questions.”

Peaches grins, brushing a stray curl out of her face. “Ask away,” she says.

“Okay,” I say, settling back into the couch. “So you all keep talking about bite marks and alphas and omegas, and I’m just wondering—what in all hell does that mean?”

Peaches sighs, her cheeks pinking slightly. “Alright, fair. That’s a big one. It’s…kind of hard to explain, and it’s gonna sound real weird to someone like you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Weird? Peaches, my threshold for weird is completely shot. Just lay it on me.”

She laughs nervously, rubbing her hands together. “Alright, alright. So…you know Reyes is the Alpha Prime, right?”

“Yeah, I got that much,” I say. “Big, scary, apparently in charge of everything.”

“Right. So the rest of us are organized into this kind of hierarchy,” she explains. “At the top, you’ve got the alphas—like the pack’s protectors. There aren’t many of them, maybe ten or so. They’re the strongest and take on the biggest responsibilities for the pack.”

She starts rattling off names, but I hold up a hand. “Peaches, I’m not gonna remember any of this.”

“Fair,” she says, giggling. “Anyway, then you’ve got the betas, which is most of the pack—just normal folks. You all handle day-to-day stuff, keep the pack runnin’, and follow the alphas’ lead.”

“And I’m a beta?”

“I think most people who are turned by an alpha are, yeah,” she says.

“And omegas?” I ask, filling in the blank.

Peaches nods. “Omegas are rare–only born lycan are alphas, like me? We’re good at more specialized tasks—tracking, sneaking, blending in when we’re in full shift. Stuff that takes finesse rather than brute force. And we’re um…we have heats that respond to alphas, where we can’t really…”

She trails off and I frown. “This seems bad.”

“It’s not!” she says, shaking her head–but it really looks like she’s in denial. “Just the full moon makes us kinda crazy? So I usually lock myself in here and try to avoid all contact. I guess it can be fun if you’re mated.”

“Oh my God,” I murmur. “Peaches…that sounds awful.”

“It’s not,” she replies quickly, then shrugs. “But the pack hierarchy runs deep. Most of the pack are betas, so the alphas set the tone, and the omegas work closely with them. It’s just…how we’re wired, I guess.”

I frown. “And Reyes, as Alpha Prime, sits at the very top?”

“Pretty much,” Peaches says with a grin. “He’s big, bad, and everyone listens to him—most of the time.” She glances at me, her grin turning wry. “You might not like it, but it works for us.”

“Great,” I mutter, leaning back into the couch. “So he’s the boss…whether I like it or not.”

Peaches snorts. “Not exactly. Other alphas can challenge him. Like–this girl, Frankie? She’s real crazy and always questioning him. When you first got here…I really thought she was going to challenge him right then, try to become Prime herself. But most of us just want to get by and keep things running.”

“Still feels like a lot,” I admit.

Peaches pats my arm, her tone cheerful but firm. “You’ll get the hang of it. It’s not as complicated as it sounds. Just stick close, don’t piss off Reyes, and you’ll be fine.”

“Not all bad,” I echo, staring down at my hands. “Peaches, this is all bad.”

She laughs softly, standing up and smoothing out her dress. “Maybe. But hey, you’re still you. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find some perks.”

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “So–maybe no transformation. Just, what…enhanced smell? Great. I’ll be able to smell everyone’s fear when I go back to Homestead.”

“You’ll probably also smell dinner,” Peaches says, grinning. “Magnolia’s cooking tonight. Something cheesy.”

As if on cue, my stomach growls, and I can faintly pick up the scent of melted cheese. “Mac and cheese?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yep,” Peaches says proudly. “Magnolia and Grant went on a supply run to the city last week and brought some back as a treat.”

I shake my head, the absurdity of the situation almost making me laugh. “Alright, let’s go,” I say, standing up. “Blindfold, or…?”

“Nah,” Peaches says, holding the door open for me. “Reyes says you’re good to go. Let’s give you the grand tour.”