Page 28

28

COLT

I have to tell her tonight.

Magnolia’s hand is warm in mine as we slip out of the dining hall, stepping into the cool night air. The hum of conversation lingers behind us, the sounds of pack life carrying on, but I barely notice. My world narrows to her—the way she moves beside me, the way her fingers stay laced with mine, like she doesn’t want to let go.

I don’t either.

“That was…a lot,” Magnolia says, breaking the easy silence between us.

I huff a quiet laugh, tilting my head toward her. “Peaches acting like we just announced our engagement?”

Magnolia groans. “She almost cried, Colt. Twice.”

“She’s emotionally invested. Can’t blame her.”

Magnolia shakes her head, but her lips are twitching, fighting a smile. “Lucy, on the other hand, is very not interested in romance.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She’s decided she’s going to be a knight.”

I raise a brow. “A knight, huh?”

“Oh, she’s serious about it,” Magnolia says, her voice full of amusement. “She spent all of dinner lecturing Dad about why the den needs a round table and why she should be allowed to carry a sword.”

I grin. “What’d your dad say?”

“That she can have a wooden sword and a chair at the kitchen table, but that’s as far as he’s willing to go.”

I huff a laugh, already picturing the tiny ball of determination that is Lucy Jones, gearing up for battle. “And what’s she defending the den against?”

“Dragons.”

“Of course.”

“She’s obsessed,” Magnolia continues. “She keeps asking Mom to braid her hair like a ‘warrior maiden’ and told me I need a ‘proper lady gown’ so I can be rescued from a tower.”

I smirk. “And you told her?”

“That if anyone’s getting rescued around here, it’s you.”

A chuckle rumbles in my chest, warm and easy. “You’re not wrong.”

Magnolia hums, swinging our joined hands as we move past the main buildings, following the dirt path toward the chapel garden. It’s quieter here, the air rich with the scent of wildflowers and warm earth, the lanterns casting golden streaks across the ground.

She stays close, her fingers brushing over mine, her warmth seeping into my skin like she belongs there.

“She’s nothing like me,” she says. “I was on a completely different page as a little girl.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Mmhm,” she says, smiling. “I grew up in Austin after the Convergence, of course–so it was hard, especially when my mom and dad were still kept apart. But…my mom always got me books, and I was obsessed with princesses. I loved the idea of this beautiful girl being swept off her feet by her one true love, whisked away…never quite got over it.”

I squeeze her hand, my chest tightening at the softness in her voice. One true love. Fuck…I love her, I do–but nothing about me is true.

I have to tell her.

Tonight.

Magnolia doesn’t seem to notice the way my grip tightens. She smiles to herself, lost in the memory. “I used to act out the stories in our tiny apartment,” she continues. “Kate wasn’t born yet, and my mom was always exhausted from work at the factory, but she’d let me drape a sheet over the couch and pretend it was my castle.” Her voice dips, wistful. “And my dad…he used to sneak into the city to visit. When I was really little, I didn’t understand why he couldn’t stay with us. Just thought it was some unfair rule the adults wouldn’t explain. In reality, of course, he was with a pack–under the knife sometime.s”

I listen, quiet, my thumb brushing absently over her knuckles.

“One time,” she says, glancing up at me, “he came in the middle of the night, just for an hour. He brought me this plastic tiara from some pre-Convergence thrift shop and told me I was the queen of our castle.” A small laugh escapes her. “I didn’t even want to be a queen, really. Just a princess. Queens sounded like they had too much responsibility.”

I watch her carefully. “And now?”

She lets out a slow breath. “Now I’m…not sure. I still love the idea of love, of fate, of something big and undeniable sweeping in and changing everything.” She glances up at me, the lantern light flickering over her face. “But I don’t want to be saved anymore. I don’t want to be rescued.”

A lump forms in my throat. “You never needed rescuing,” I say, my voice rougher than I mean it to be.

She hums, like she’s considering that. “No,” she agrees after a pause. “But I wanted someone who would.”

The words knock the breath from my chest. I swallow hard, but before I can say anything, she shifts, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine. “What about you?”

I blink. “What about me?”

“When you were little,” she says, tilting her head to look up at me. “What did you want?”

I exhale slowly. “I um…don’t remember much about being little.”

Her smile dims, just a little. “Oh–oh gosh, Colt, I’m sorry. I totally forgot–”

“Yeah, so did I,” I laugh, trying to inject at least some humor into it. “Don’t worry about it, angel. I mean…I figure I was doing nothing but getting into trouble, right?”

Magnolia doesn’t look convinced. She studies me like she’s trying to piece something together, like she can see past the easy grin I just threw up as a shield.

“I guess that tracks,” she says after a pause. “I can’t imagine you as a kid, though. You just appeared fully formed, all big and broody and impossible.”

I smirk. “I like to think I was a charming little bastard.”

She huffs a laugh. “Oh, definitely a bastard.”

I nudge her gently, and she nudges me right back, her eyes flickering. The easy rhythm of the moment settles around us, lulling me into a false sense of security. But that tightness in my chest doesn’t go away. Because this…all of this…feels real. Too real. And I know I have minutes, maybe even seconds, before I wreck it all.

Magnolia squeezes my hand. “You know, I think Lucy would’ve loved you as a kid.”

I tilt my head. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, smiling. “She would’ve seen you getting into trouble and decided on sight that you were her mortal enemy, and then by the end of the day, you’d be her favorite person in the world.”

A low chuckle escapes me. “She does have a strong sense of justice.”

“And a complete inability to let things go,” Magnolia adds.

“So…basically you, but shorter?”

She gasps in mock outrage. “I am nothing like Lucy.”

“You just spent twenty minutes telling me how you acted out princess stories and demanded people rescue you.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

She hesitates. “…It just is.”

I laugh, and she glares, but there’s no heat to it, just warmth, just her, just this easy, teasing moment that makes my chest ache.

She’s so unbelievably beautiful like this. Happy. Mine.

And I’m about to take that from her.

The path curves toward the chapel garden, the scent of wildflowers rising in the air, but suddenly it’s harder to breathe. Magnolia keeps talking. “Honestly? I think Lucy might have the right idea. She doesn’t care about fate, or mates, or destiny. She just wants to slay dragons.”

I exhale slowly. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No,” she agrees. “It doesn’t.”

She stays close, her fingers brushing over mine, her warmth seeping into my skin like she belongs there.

And then?—

“Have you ever thought about marriage?”

It hits like a blow to the ribs.

She doesn’t notice. Not yet. She just keeps going, curling closer, her fingers playing absently with mine. “About kids?”

A sharp, painful exhale leaves my chest. Magnolia turns to look at me, the glow of her happiness flickering at the edges as she takes in my face.

She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know.

But she will.

I can’t run from this anymore. The truth is going to rot inside me if I don’t get it out now.

I tug her to a halt, the two of us stopped in the aisle of the chapel like this is some kind of fucked up wedding. She looks up at me, brow furrowed, and I can tell through the bond that she knows something is horribly wrong.

“I have to tell you something,” I say, my voice coming out a whisper.

Magnolia stills, her fingers twitching in mine. “Colt…”

Her voice is softer now, hesitant. Wary.

I don’t blame her.

The weight in my chest presses down harder, heavier, suffocating. I feel it in every inch of my body, in the bond stretching between us like a live wire, like it knows what’s coming. She watches me, searching my face, and I can see it—the moment doubt creeps in, the moment the warmth in her eyes flickers.

“You’re scaring me,” she breathes.

I clench my jaw, unable to look at her, squeezing her hands so, so tight.

“When I came here…it wasn’t just as a handyman looking for work,” I tell her.

A shadow crosses her features. She takes a sharp breath. “Colt, please don’t–”

“I’m a bounty hunter,” I blurt out. “The Gulf Pack hired me to find Peaches.”

Magnolia blinks, like she misheard me. Like if she just waits a second, I’ll take it back.

But I don’t. I can’t.

Her hands slip from mine, slow, deliberate, and she takes half a step back, putting space between us.

“What?” she says, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

My pulse hammers. My wolf thrashes beneath my skin, snarling at the loss of contact, at the widening gap between us. But I don’t move to close it. I don’t reach for her. I don’t deserve to.

I take a breath that barely makes it past the tightness in my throat. “I was hired to find her,” I force out. “To bring her back to the Gulf Pack.”

I force the words out. “To bring her back to the Gulf Pack.”

Magnolia’s expression flickers—confusion, disbelief, betrayal—all of it crashing over her in waves. “You—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear it. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

I feel sick. I knew this would wreck her, and yet standing here, watching it happen, feels a thousand times worse than I ever imagined.

“I didn’t know what they were,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I thought they were just another pack. I didn’t know about what they did to omegas. I swear to you, Magnolia, the second I got here, the second I heard what they’d done to Peaches—I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

Her breath stutters, her hands clenching in the fabric of her sleeves. I can see it in her face—she wants to believe me, wants to forgive me, even though she really, really shouldn’t. She bites her lip so hard it bleeds, and I feel every bit of that agony through the bond.

She takes another step back, arms wrapping around herself like she’s physically trying to hold herself together. Her breath is shaky, uneven.

I drag a hand through my hair, my own pulse hammering. “I sent them a message,” I say roughly. “The Gulf. Told them I was out. That I wasn’t finishing the job. That this den isn’t theirs to touch.”

Magnolia’s breath catches.

I shake my head. “I should’ve done it sooner. Should’ve burned that bridge the second I knew what they were. But I did it, Magnolia. And I’m going to Reyes tonight.” I swallow hard, my throat burning. “To tell him everything.”

Her fingers tighten against her arms, her body going rigid.

Then she says the words that destroy me completely.

“You lied to me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it lands like a bullet straight through my chest.

I shake my head, desperate, but she flinches like she can feel every ounce of my guilt through the bond. Because she can.

“Maggie, I?—”

“No.” She cuts me off with a shake of her head, and I see the moment her hands start to tremble. “No, you don’t get to ‘Maggie’ me right now.”

I can feel her wolf pushing against her, a whirlwind of emotions she’s barely keeping contained. Hurt. Betrayal. Fear.

The fear slams into me the hardest.

I go rigid, my chest caving in as I see the way she looks at me now. Not just hurt. Not just betrayed. Scared.

“I’d never hurt you,” I rasp, my voice breaking.

She lets out a short, hollow laugh. “Oh, you mean besides lying to me? Besides keeping this from me while you—while you touched me?” Her voice cracks, and she presses her hand to her chest like she can physically hold back the sob rising in her throat.

I feel it through the bond. The devastation. The sheer ache of it. And it’s my fault.

Her breath hitches. “When you kissed me—you were keeping this from me. When you…at the observatory, when you—” Her voice wobbles, and she swallows hard, pressing her lips together. “You knew, Colt. You knew what this would do to me, and you still let me?—”

She stops herself before the words can leave her lips, but I know what she was about to say.

You still let me love you.

The bond between us pulses, and I feel her war with herself—her instincts screaming that I’m still hers, still safe, while her mind knows better.

“I should’ve told you,” I say, voice rough, pleading. “I tried. I didn’t know how—I didn’t know how to do it without?—”

“Without what?” Magnolia cuts in. “Without me looking at you exactly how I’m looking at you right now?”

I flinch.

Because yeah.

That was the worst part. The part I couldn’t stomach.

“I love you,” I say, because it’s the only thing I have left, the only truth I know won’t change. “I love you, Magnolia. And I never—” My voice breaks. “I never wanted to lose you.”

Her breath shudders out of her, and she presses a hand over her mouth like she can physically shove down the sound of her own pain.

I take a step forward, my instincts screaming at me to fix this, but she stumbles back.

“Don’t,” she breathes, voice broken. “Just…don’t.”

Silence stretches between us.

She’s trembling. I can feel the way her body wants to run but her heart won’t let her. Her wolf is snarling, torn, because she knows I’m not going to hurt her. She knows I’m not a threat.

But she also knows what I’ve done.

And that’s worse.

I exhale slowly, clenching my fists. “I swear to you—I swear on everything—I would never hurt you.”

She stares at me for a long, stretched-out moment.

Then, so quiet I almost don’t hear her, she whispers, “You already did.”

The words land like a killing blow.

Her shoulders shake, but she lifts her chin, swallowing hard as she drags a shaky breath into her lungs. “I—I can’t—” She breaks off, squeezing her eyes shut. “I need to go.”

My whole body locks up. I don’t know what to do, how to fix this, how to stop her from walking away when I can feel through the bond that it’s the last thing either of us really wants.

But I don’t stop her.

I can’t.

I watch, helpless, as she turns. As she forces one foot in front of the other. As the distance between us stretches too far, the bond thrumming with pain and loss?—

And then I figure out what that strange scent was.

It’s faint. Almost nothing.

But now that the bond between us is screaming…

Now that my instincts are in overdrive, clawing for something to hold onto…

I know.

Beneath the wildflowers and honey, beneath the lingering imprint of my own scent, there’s something new. Something soft. Something only mine.

Something so small but so real.

It settles deep in my bones, in the primal part of me that knows.

My mate is carrying my child.

And she has no idea.