Ch. 21

The first day after was always the worst. The way every look sideways had a question folded into it—How long have you been hiding this? What will you do now? She let each stare slide off her as she crossed the muddy lot, Xander at her side, the two of them a gravity well for gossip. She was not unused to attention; she just hated the kind that involved her feelings.

The training field was a wet sprawl of grass, cordoned off by battered fencing and the odd, half-collapsed barricade. Most of the others were already assembled, their breath rising in steamy clouds, half-listening to Hayden’s attempt at a pep talk while they passed a dented thermos around. Carolina caught the drift of cinnamon and remembered, faintly, the last time she’d let herself want something as basic as comfort.

Hayden’s voice broke over the field: “—and that’s why if you aren’t at least pretending to care today, someone’s going to get their ass handed to them.” She glanced up, spotted Carolina and Xander, and somehow did not miss a beat. “Our own Private Carolina is back from the dead, and there’s no special treatment, so line up.”

Carolina stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets and jogged over to join the others. Xander peeled off, heading for the trainers’ side, where the senior wolves and supervisors clustered. The move was tactical: the farther he stood from her, the less anyone could say about what had happened between them. Or to them.

She wedged herself between Cas and Juliette, who both gave her quick, sidelong up-and-downs. Cas leaned in. “You okay?”

“Define ‘okay,’” Carolina said.

Juliette grinned. “Well, you look less like you’ve been dragged behind a truck than yesterday.”

“Thanks. I think.” She flexed her shoulders, felt the ache from the fight still blooming there like a fresh bruise. “What’s on deck?”

Cas shrugged. “Sprints. Then the obstacle course. Hayden’s in a mood.”

From the front, Hayden called, “Don’t think I can’t hear you, Casimir, with your pigeon-loud ass.” The group snickered, and Carolina felt the weird, blissful, terrible normalcy settle like a blanket over her shoulders.

When the drills started, Carolina let herself fall into the mechanics of it. The sharp inhale before a run, the bite of gravel under her heel, the burn in her lungs as she kept pace with the others. She was almost at the end of her first lap before she realized she hadn’t thought of Marcus once.

After sprints, the groups broke off. Carolina took the north fence, weaving through the slalom poles and over the stacked logs. She caught a flash of Xander at the other end of the yard—arms folded, barking orders at a lineup of nervous newer recruits. He was in his element now, and something in the set of his face made her smile, even as her own training turned grim.

The third time she vaulted the wall, she hit it a little too hard—momentum carrying her almost off-balance, a jolt zigzagging up her forearm. Juliette, waiting on the other side, said, “You trying to break that arm again?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Carolina muttered.

“You talk to Marcus yet?”

Carolina hesitated. “He said we have to prove ourselves.”

Juliette’s mouth twisted. “He would. You gonna tell me what really happened, or let the rumors win?”

For a second, Carolina considered telling her everything. That Xander wanted out, but not without her. That she wanted him, too, and was sick of pretending she didn’t. That Marcus kept pulling strings because that’s what good Alphas did, and maybe she wasn’t sure anymore if she even wanted to be one.

Instead, she said, “We’re not running, if that’s what you mean. We’re staying.”

Juliette nodded, a statement in itself. “Guess we’ll see if the pack can handle it.” She loped ahead, legs eating up the ground, and Carolina followed.

The rest of training blurred into rhythm: leap, climb, land, sprint; the crackle of Hayden’s whistle, the shouted encouragement, the occasional wolfish bark of laughter. It was only when the session ended, and they circled up to debrief, that Carolina felt the world tilt back toward danger.

Hayden swept her gaze over the group. “First thing: you survived. Good job. Second, tomorrow we have a real run. Marcus wants everyone sharp, so don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

She dismissed them with a flick of two fingers, but as Carolina started to head for the showers, Hayden pulled her aside.

“Walk with me,” she said, already halfway down the path.

Carolina jogged to catch up. Hayden’s stride never changed, as bulldog-solid as her voice. “You and Xander. You gonna be a problem?”

“Not if you don’t make it one,” Carolina said, matching the bluntness.

Hayden grunted, almost approving. “I don’t care who fucks who, but you know the pack’s watching. You keep your head down, get your work done—I’ll cover the rest.”

Carolina exhaled, slow and careful. “Thanks.”

Hayden stopped at a patch of sunlight, face gone thoughtful. “You’re stronger than Xander. Smarter, too.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“I won’t,” Hayden said. “But you might want to.”

They stood there, not quite friends, not quite enemies, and Carolina figured that was as much of a gift as anyone got in this life. Hayden clapped her on the back—hard enough to sting, but somehow comforting—and wandered off again.

By the time Carolina reached the showers, the locker room was nearly empty. A few others lingered, toweling off or swapping field gossip. Cas waited by her locker, still sweaty and faintly redolent of wet dog.

“So,” he said. “You and Xander.”

Carolina slung her jacket into the cubby. “You and that bottle of cinnamon booze.”

He grinned, teeth too pointy, and held up a half-empty flask. “Want some? It’ll melt the insides right off you.”

She took the bottle, uncapped it, and swallowed a burning shot. “Is the entire pack talking about us?”

Cas leaned against the row of lockers, tilted his head. “Some are jealous. Most are scared.”

“What about you?”

He shrugged. “I could go either way. Mostly, I don’t want anything to change.”

Carolina handed back the flask. “That’s the problem with packs, Cas. Everything changes.” She twisted the faucet, cold water sluicing the sweat from her skin, and tried not to think how true that was.

* * *

She found Xander by the riverbank, standing ankle-deep in mud, stones glistening slick underfoot. He’d stripped off his shirt again, letting the water sluice over the bruises blooming at his ribs. For a second she just watched him, not wanting to break the spell.

When he noticed her, he didn’t smile. “You good?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated, then stepped into the shallow, letting water lap at her sneakers. “Hayden pulled me aside. She says as long as we do our jobs, she doesn’t care.”

He nodded, gaze still fixed on the river. “We should be careful, anyway.”

They stood there, letting silence braid itself between them, until he finally said: “Marcus will make us prove this. He’s not going to stop.”

“I know,” she said.

Xander moved closer, so their shoulders grazed. “You regret it yet?”

Carolina looked at their feet, splayed in the muck, hers so much smaller next to his. “You already know the answer.”

He touched her chin, gentle, like he half-expected her to bite. “Then don’t let them scare you off.”

She almost laughed. “After last night, you think anything scares me?”

Now, finally, he smiled. “You’re a maniac.”

She took his hand, felt the pulse snap wild and sure beneath his knuckles. “That’s why you like me.”

The sun was setting, turning the water to molten gold. The world, for a heartbeat, was beautiful again, and Carolina realized maybe that was the proof Marcus needed: that even here, with the whole pack watching, she would not flinch. Would not run. Would not let the story end so easily.

“Tomorrow,” she said, “they’ll all be waiting for us to screw up.”

“Let’s not disappoint,” Xander said, and together, they walked back toward the beginnings of night.