Outside
Elowen
The sky is pale blue, barely lit, dew still sitting on the grass and the little trees lining the driveway.
My stomach is happy for the first time in what feels like days. Odette made everyone a proper breakfast. For the boys, she made bacon, eggs, and toast with coffee refills that kept coming without anyone asking.
But she made me something different.
Plain rice, a soft-boiled egg, and broth with a little ginger stirred in. She set it in front of me like she knew my post-heat body couldn't handle the grease and salt.
I ate every bite.
Outside, Odette walks ahead toward the detached garage, while Raff and Perrin disappear behind the house to get the van. Odette pulls the garage door up on its track. It groans and rattles, the old springs fighting, and when it clears, there's a car inside.
It’s an old Cadillac. Long, wide, and the color of cream, with chrome trim that catches the morning light. I move closer, the leather interior is tan and cracked in a few places, but it looks clean.
"Sal loved this car," Odette says as she runs her hand along the hood as she passes. “Take good care of her.” She tosses the keys to Cliff. He catches them with one hand.
"Thank you, Odette. For everything."
"Don't thank me. Bring it back with a full tank."
She turns to Adam. Her arms open and he steps into them without hesitation, his face pressing into her shoulder. She holds him tight, one hand on the back of his head, and leans close to his ear. She whispers something I can't quite catch.
But I think I hear,“Give her a chance.”
Adam pulls back, his eyes down, and nods. Then he moves toward the car and reaches for the back door, but Cliff's hand catches his arm.
"Up front with me," the pack alpha says. He nods toward the back seat. "Elowen can sit in back."
Surprise flickers across Adam’s face, before he smooths it away. He walks around to the passenger side and gets in without a word.
I turn to Odette. She's standing in the driveway with her arms crossed over her flannel robe, the morning light catching the silver in her hair.
"Thank you," I say. "For the food. And the couch. And for being kind when you didn't have to be."
She studies me for a moment. Her gray eyes are clear and direct.
"My son's pack is filled with good men, omega." Her voice is firm, but somehow still kind. "They're loyal and they're stubborn, and they love hard. They didn't ask for what happened yesterday, same as you didn’t, but they showed up for you anyway." She pauses, then adds, "Give them a chance."
There's something underneath her words. Like she's scared I might bolt the second the car pulls out of her driveway and these men will be left with a broken bond.
And once again, I wonder if she can read my mind.
“Okay." I smile, because what else am I supposed to say?
Odette smiles back at me, then she watches me walk to the car, open the back door, and slide onto the wide seat. The Cadillac smells like old leather, dust, and something faintly sweet that might be aftershave from a man who they’ve told me has been dead for ten years.
Cliff starts the engine. It turns over with a low, smooth rumble.
And we pull out of the driveway.
Thirty minutes later, Cliff pulls into a pharmacy parking lot. It's a chain store, big and anonymous, the kind of place where nobody remembers your face. I've shopped at a dozen just like it, always paying cash, always at different locations, never the same one twice in a row.
Cliff kills the engine and looks at me in the rearview mirror. "What do you need to hide your scent?"
I list everything off without thinking. Scent-neutralizing spray.
Unscented body wipes. Scent patches if they carry them, though most places don't. A generic antihistamine that dulls pheromone output. They won’t have scent-blocking pills.
Those require a prescription. I know the brands, the dosages, the likely aisle numbers.
I've been shopping for my own invisibility for three years.
"I can go in," I say, reaching for the door handle.
"Stay in the car." Cliff's voice is calm but the weight behind it is unmistakable. It’s a clear command. Not harsh or loud, just absolute. "Both of you.” He glances at Adam. “I'll be back in ten minutes."
Then the alpha gets out, shuts the door, and walks across the parking lot without looking back.
I watch him go. His broad shoulders, the slight stiffness in his left arm where the gauze pulls, the way he moves through the parking lot like nothing in the world could slow him down.
And a sudden sadness settles over me.
It's so irrational, but I desperately want him to come back.
He's walking into a pharmacy, not leaving the country, I silently tell myself, but my chest tightens and my fingers grip the edge of the seat anyway.
I have to close my eyes to keep from pressing my face against the window like a dog watching its owner leave.
Breathe. In and out. Let the world fill the space he left behind.
But the silence doesn't help. It only makes the pull worse.
Maybe I should go inside.
Cliff doesn't know which brands work best, or that the generic spray is useless, or that the patches on the bottom shelf are the only ones worth buying. He'll grab the wrong thing and I'll have to explain it later, and it would be easier if I—
I lift my hand, moving it toward the door handle, but it stops. My fingers hover an inch from the chrome, trembling slightly, and then they curl back into my lap like they've been gently pushed.
I try again. Same thing.
Cliff’s command settles over me, forcing my muscles in place.
It’s not painful or anything like that.
Just a quiet, total refusal from somewhere deep inside my nervous system.
“You really can't open it, can you?” Adam's voice is soft.
I look up to find the beta’s turned slightly in the passenger seat, his honey-brown eyes watching my hand retreat from the door for the second time. His expression is light and curious.
"No," I admit. "Apparently not."
Adam is quiet for a moment. His thumb runs along the seam of his joggers and his mouth opens, closes, then opens again. It’s like he's turning the words over before he lets them out.
"Can I ask you something personal?"
My chest tightens, but he's talking to me. "Of course."
"What does it feel like?" He tilts his head slightly. "Being commanded."
I think about it. Really think about it, because he seems like he genuinely wants to know.
"It's like..." I look down at my hands in my lap.
"You know when you're dreaming, and you try to run, but your legs won't move?
It's like that, except it doesn't feel scary.
It feels correct. Like your body agrees with the command more than it agrees with you.
" I pause, then snort, "Which is incredibly annoying, by the way. "
The corner of Adam's mouth twitches. A small, reluctant smile that he tries to hide by ducking his head, but I catch it.
Something in my chest loosens.
"Are you and Perrin brothers?" I ask, before the silence can swallow the moment.
"Twins," Adam says.
"I thought so. You look a lot alike."
"Everyone says that." He smiles. "Perrin hates it."
"Which one of you is older?"
"I am. By four minutes." Another small smile, this one a little less reluctant. "He's never forgiven me for it."
For a few seconds, the air almost feels friendly, like two people getting to know each other on a cool summer morning, instead of whatever this actually is.
Then the driver's door opens and Cliff slides back in, a plastic bag in his hand. He drops it on the seat beside me. Spray, wipes, patches, antihistamines. Everything I asked for.
Adam turns back to face the windshield with his hands in his lap. The small smile is gone, tucked away somewhere Cliff can't see it.
The engine rumbles to life and Cliff pulls out of the parking lot.
And we drive.