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COLT

I ’ve lost a lot of things in my life.

Hell, I don’t even know what I’ve lost. My past is a blank slate, wiped clean by the Heavenly Host, my memories ripped away before I ever had the chance to claim them. I don’t have a history, don’t have anything to hold onto from before.

But Magnolia…I can’t–I won’t–lose her.

It feels like I’ve been gutted from the inside out, like my soul is howling inside a hollowed-out chest, a wound that won’t close. Her scent is still thick in the workshop, sweet and wild and mine, but the absence of her touch is unbearable. The bond between us doesn’t sever—it can’t—but it thrums with pain now, a wire stretched too thin, an ache that won’t let me breathe. She belongs to me, and I to her, but I’ve ruined it.

Maybe beyond repair.

That realization slams into me like a blade between the ribs, and rage surges up—not at her, never at her—but at myself. At the fear that kept my mouth shut for too long.

My hand clamps down on the signal beacon, that useless hunk of metal still tying me to a past I swore I’d buried. Once, that blinking light meant survival. A lifeline. A way out.

Now it just feels like a noose.

It shouldn’t be this easy to destroy.

But when I crush it in my grip, metal snapping like brittle bone, sparks spitting across the workbench, I don’t feel a damn thing. No relief. No triumph. Just the cold, sinking weight of knowing it’s not enough.

It’ll never be enough.

The busted beacon clatters to the floor in jagged pieces, dead and useless, but it doesn’t change what I did. Doesn’t erase the way Magnolia looked at me, like she didn’t even know me anymore.

Her tears gut me. The way her voice shook. The way she flinched when I reached for her. That’s worse than any blade, any scar, any wound I’ve ever had.

My wolf paces inside me, wild and restless, clawing at my ribs, howling to go to her, to beg, to fix this before it’s too late.

But instinct alone won’t save me now.

Only action will.

I shove away from the workbench and storm out of the workshop, my pulse hammering in my skull. I move on autopilot, barely registering my own footsteps as I push through the den. Eyes follow me—some wary, some sharp, some just plain curious. They all saw us together. Saw the way I held her hand, my mark over her pulse.

And now?

Now they’ll all know what a liar her mate turned out to be.

The shame sits heavy in my gut, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

Because the only thing worse than the pack’s judgment is the thought of Magnolia never looking at me with love again.

It isn’t long before I’m pounding my fist against the Alpha Prime’s door, ready for whatever punishment he thinks is right. It’s late–he and Tilda are probably already asleep–and I realize they were up to something else when I hear voices from inside, then the amber eyes of a man who did not want to be disturbed. Reyes’ hair is messy, shirt off, his mate half-dressed in the shadows behind him.

I shouldn’t be…but I’m jealous. Jealous that they have this, that I’m about to make sure it’s taken away from me.

Then it starts to hurt.

Fuck, I need something…I need absolution.

“What do you want, Colt?” Reyes asks, none of the calm, composed priest I’m used to. No…this is a man who was just interrupted while he was spending time with his mate. I get that. But I also know this can’t wait. I open my mouth, close it again, not knowing how to say this.

“Will you take my confession?” I ask, surprising myself.

His eyes dart over to Tilda, who’s getting dressed with a skeptical look on her face. “I’m…not a priest anymore, Colt.”

“I need this,” I tell him. “And then after…you should probably send for Frankie, Will, Grant, maybe. You’ll want to lock me up somewhere.”

Reyes doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me, those amber eyes taking me apart piece by piece, reading me. I brace myself for him to turn me away. To tell me to deal with it, to sit with my sins like every other bastard who’s ever fucked up beyond repair.

But then he exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Okay.”

Tilda huffs from behind him, rolling her shoulders like she’s still deciding whether or not to be pissed about the interruption. She must land on not pissed, because she just nods once, clasping her hand on my shoulder as she goes.

“I’ll wake Frankie,” she murmurs.

Fuck…fuck. It’s happening. I’m locked in. Now that Frankie knows, I won’t get off the hook. Not this time.

Reyes steps back, leaving just enough room for me to enter. I hesitate, my body still wired with too much adrenaline, too much need—for punishment, for absolution, for something to break before I do.

But then I step inside.

The door clicks shut behind me, sealing me in with a man who has the power to rip the rest of my life away. Reyes doesn’t sit; he doesn’t tell me to either. He just leans against the desk, arms crossed, his expression neutral. The dim glow of the lantern casts shadows over his face, and for the life of me, I feel like this is judgment day and he’s here to weigh my soul against my sins.

I don’t know where to start.

My throat works around words I haven’t even formed yet, and for a second, I almost laugh—because fuck, how do you even begin a confession like this? Forgive me, Alpha, for I have sinned?

But Reyes just watches me, waiting.

And I force myself to speak.

“I came here to betray you.” The words scrape out of my throat, low and rough. “To betray this den. To take Peaches.”

Reyes doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look away. Just nods once, like he already knew.

I don’t know what I expected—shock, maybe. Anger. Some kind of outburst. But I should’ve known better. Reyes isn’t the type to lose his temper. He doesn’t react—he absorbs.

And right now, he’s absorbing every fucking thing I’ve just laid at his feet.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and suffocating, until he finally speaks.

“Keep going.”

It’s not a demand. Not an accusation. Just a request.

I swallow hard, my throat raw. “I took the job before I knew what the Gulf Pack really was,” I admit, voice rasping. “I thought they were just another pack looking for a lost omega. I didn’t ask questions. I needed the work.”

Reyes exhales, rubbing a slow hand over his face. He looks exhausted. Like I’ve just added another weight to a pile he was already struggling to carry.

I press on, because stopping now is worse. “The second I got here, I knew,” I admit. “I knew I couldn’t do it. Magnolia—” My breath catches, but I push past it. “She ruined the whole fucking plan. I didn’t mean to stay. I shouldn’t have stayed. But I did.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I can feel something shift in the room. Like he understands that part.

Like he’s seen it before.

I huff out a bitter laugh. “You know, I’ve never stayed anywhere this long,” I say, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was a drifter. I grew up in packs, but I never belonged to one. Always moving, always looking out for myself.” My lips twitch, but there’s no humor in it. “I steal things.”

Reyes’ brow lifts slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

I shrug. “It started when I was a kid. Small shit. A piece of candy, a couple bucks off a table. A habit, I guess.” I drag a hand through my hair. “But I didn’t stop when I got older. I pick pockets. Lift whatever I can carry. I don’t even need half the shit I take, I just—” I shake my head. “I don’t know. Feels like insurance. Like I’m always one step ahead if I’ve got something that isn’t mine.”

Reyes watches me carefully. “Have you stolen from this den?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. More than I should’ve.” I don’t look away from him. I owe him that. “A knife, a watch…a ring.” I blow out a slow breath. “Nothing big. Never anything people would miss. But I did it. I still have it all, stashed away in the workshop.”

Reyes doesn’t look surprised. Just tired.

“I didn’t know how to stop,” I admit. “I still don’t.”

He studies me, then leans back slightly, crossing his arms. “But you’re confessing it now.”

I nod. “Because Magnolia changed everything.”

The words come out raw. I shake my head, my throat tight. “I’ve never met anyone like her. Ever. She’s…” I exhale, shaking my head. “She’s real. She’s good, not because she has to be, but because that’s just who she is.” My voice drops lower, reverent. “She’s like an angel.”

I don’t mean it in a religious way, and Reyes knows it.

“She looked at me like I was better than I am,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Like I could be better.”

I let out a rough breath, my chest aching. “And maybe I started to believe her.”

Reyes doesn’t say anything, just watches me with that same quiet patience, like he’s letting me pull the words out one at a time.

“I should’ve told her,” I rasp, rubbing my palms against my thighs like I can scrub the guilt off me. “I should’ve told her. But I kept thinking I could fix it before she found out. That I could make it right before it got to this point.” I drag a hand down my face. “And instead, I just made it worse.”

The weight of it crashes down on me all over again, pressing me into the floor.

Reyes tilts his head, his voice quiet when he finally speaks. “And what do you want me to do with all of this, Colt?”

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “I want you to do what’s right for the den. Whatever that is.”

Reyes doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me, his amber eyes taking me apart piece by piece. Not with anger. Not even with disappointment.

Just understanding.

And that’s worse.

I brace myself for him to tell me I’m no better than the bastards who sent me here, that I deserve whatever’s coming. Hell, I do deserve it. If he tells me to pack my shit and run, if he calls for the pack to exile me, even if he says they have to kill me…I won’t fight it. But he just exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

And when he speaks, it’s not at all what I expect.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, thoughtful, “the first time I saw Tilda, she was aiming a rifle at me. In fact…she shot me.”

I blink.

Reyes leans back against the desk, tilting his head like he’s remembering it. “She was sent here to kill me. To destroy this pack. That was her mission–and she almost did it.” He meets my gaze, and there’s no anger, no judgment—just a quiet, heavy truth. “If I hadn’t given her the chance to change, if I’d let the past dictate what I thought she was capable of…she wouldn’t be here now.”

I stare at Reyes, trying to process what he just said.

She was sent here to kill me. And she almost did it.

It doesn’t make sense.

Tilda is his. His mate, his second-in-command, the woman he trusts with his life. And she nearly ended him?

I shake my head, jaw tight. “That’s not the same,” I mutter. “She had a mission, yeah, but she didn’t?—”

Reyes lifts a brow, waiting for me to finish that sentence.

I don’t.

Because what I was about to say was bullshit, and we both know it.

She did betray them. She did come here to hurt this pack. And yet…

“She earned her place here,” Reyes says simply, like he already knows where my mind went. “She fought for it. She chose to make things right.”

I let out a rough breath, dragging a hand through my hair. “I don’t—I don’t know how to fix this.”

Reyes exhales through his nose, watching me for a long, quiet moment. Then he tilts his head. “And what makes you think I’m the one who gets to decide that?”

I blink.

I expected judgment. Condemnation. Hell, even exile. But this? This calm, this patience, this fucking mercy?—

It makes me feel like I’m about to break.

I shake my head. “If not you, then who? What, God?” The words come out more bitter than I mean them to.

Reyes just gives me a small, knowing smile. “No, Colt,” he says, voice even. “The pack.”

I go still.

He steps closer, just enough that I have to look at him. “They’re the ones you betrayed,” he says. “They’re the ones who should decide whether or not you stay.”

I don’t breathe.

“I can’t give you absolution, Colt.” His voice is steady. “But they can.”

Something cracks in my chest.

Reyes believes in repentance. In redemption. I can see it in his face, in the way he’s looking at me—not like I’m already damned, but like I still have a choice.

Like I still have a chance.

I let out a slow, uneven breath. “And if they don’t?”

Reyes shrugs. “Then you live with the consequences.”

The words aren’t cruel. They’re not a threat. Just a fact. I nod, accepting my fate.

Then, because I don’t know how else to deal with the fucking weight of this, I huff out a laugh. “Man…and here I was just hoping for some Hail Marys.”

Reyes snorts, shaking his head. “Not how it works, Colt.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, dragging a hand through my hair. “Figured.”

It feels like that’s the end of the conversation–confession made, judgment soon to pass. But there’s one last thing I need to ask him…one thing I can’t leave to chance.

“I need a favor.”

Reyes raises a brow. “A favor?”

I nod, swallowing hard. My throat feels tight. “Yeah. Just one.”

Reyes doesn’t say anything, just waits, patient as ever.

I take a breath that doesn’t do shit to steady me. “If they send me away…if Magnolia never forgives me…if I don’t get to stay…” I drag a hand through my hair, staring down at the floor, at my hands, at anything but his face.

“Make sure my kid is safe.”

Silence.

The kind that crashes over the room, thick and suffocating.

Reyes’ expression doesn’t change, but he stiffens. I can feel him watching me, dissecting me.

I force myself to look at him.

“She doesn’t know yet,” I say, voice rough. “And I don’t—I don’t want her to hear it from me. Not now. Not like this.” I clench my jaw, hands fisting at my sides. “But I can sense it. I know.”

Reyes lets out a slow breath, his arms uncrossing, his fingers flexing like he’s thinking, processing. Then he nods, just once. “I’ll make sure they’re protected.”

I bow my head, letting out a breath that feels like it’s been caught in my chest since the moment I realized Magnolia was carrying my child.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Both our heads snap to the door when we hear it open, and a moment later, Tilda appears on the other side. I can see Frankie over her shoulder, cold eyes flashing with hatred…and Grant, who looks more disappointed than I expected.

Reyes exhales and nods toward me. “Take him to a holding cell.”

Frankie’s jaw tightens. “Gladly.”

She steps forward, gripping my arm in a way that tells me she’s been waiting to do this. I don’t resist. I let her drag me toward the door, Grant following just behind. I hear the redhead sigh, shaking his head. “Damn…what the fuck, dude?”

I wish I had an answer for him.

The air shifts the second I step outside. More people are awake now, like the rumors are already spreading, and I feel the weight of every gaze on me. The whispers have already started. I knew they would. This was always going to happen.

But then my breath catches—because Magnolia is there.

She’s walking toward us, her mother at her side, her expression set with determination. I realize in that moment she was about to rat me out–good, I fucking deserve it–but the second she sees me, she stops.

Her lips part, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides.

I can feel the moment it clicks for her, the moment she realizes exactly what I’ve done. I see it in the way her eyes flicker to Grant, then to Frankie gripping my arm like she’s ready to toss me into a fucking river.

Her breath shudders out of her. She knows.

I take a step toward her—instinct, desperation, stupid hope—but Frankie yanks me back with a growl.

“Don’t.”

Magnolia sways forward, like she wants to close the space between us, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me, her throat working around words she doesn’t say. Her mother holds her arm protectively, pulling her in close.

I should say something. I should tell her I’m sorry.

I should tell her that none of this matters if she’s not safe. That all I care about is her, and the little life inside of her that she doesn’t even know about yet.

I should say something.

But I don’t.

I just hold her gaze for one last second, one last moment where it’s just us, before Frankie tugs me away and Magnolia disappears behind me.