Broken Headlights

Declan's POV

“I swear, if I have to listen to one more elder drone on about border patrol rotations, I’m going to shove my own fist in my mouth.”

I tossed the dagger into the air, watching the light glint off the polished steel before catching it by the hilt with a satisfying smack against my palm. The plush sofa in my father’s study was criminally comfortable, but it did nothing to soothe the restless energy buzzing under my skin.

Across from me, Rhys Calder, my best friend since we were pups, just smirked. He was kicked back in an armchair, looking every bit the rugged enforcer he was training to be.

“Ten years away and you’re already this bored? You’ve been back, what, three days?”

“Seventy-two hours of utter, mind-numbing monotony,” I grumbled, throwing the dagger again. Higher this time. “They sent me away to learn how to fight, to lead, to be a soldier. I learned how to tear a man’s throat out with my teeth, Rhys. And for what? To come back and talk about… budgets.”

Rhys chuckled, a low, easy sound.

“Welcome to being the future Alpha. It’s not all glory and battle cries. Sometimes it’s about… well, budgets.”

“Don’t say that word again,” I warned, catching the dagger. “I might have to use this on you.”

“You’ve changed, Dec,” he said, his sharp eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re all… broody and intense now. Where’s the kid who used to get us lost in the woods trying to find a supposed hidden waterfall?”

“He grew up and got trained by a bunch of serious-faced warriors who didn’t believe in fun,” I said flatly. “This place feels like it’s been frozen in time. Nothing exciting ever happens in Westwood.”

Just then, a sleek, gunmetal grey sports car purred into the circular driveway outside the window. I sat up. Now that was something.

I knew that car. It was my father’s latest toy, a rare, obscenely expensive European import he barely drove. Beta Jensen, a man who took life far too seriously, got out and hurried inside, probably to deliver another thrilling report on grain storage.

An idea, a brilliant, terrible, absolutely perfect idea, lit up in my brain. I looked at Rhys. He saw the look in my eyes and immediately shook his head.

“No. Declan, whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.”

“We’re taking it for a spin.”

“Are you insane? Your father will literally kill you. And then he’ll kill me for not stopping you.”

I stood up, already heading for the door.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Calder? You said it yourself, nothing happens here. Let’s make something happen.”

“A heart attack for Beta Jensen is not the kind of ‘something’ I had in mind!” he protested, but he was already following me. He always did. That’s why he was my best friend.

We slipped out a side entrance. The keys were, predictably, still in the ignition. Beta Jensen’s number one rule was efficiency and wasting time going back inside to drop off the keys was inefficient. His mistake.

I slid into the driver’s seat. The leather groaned under me and the engine growled to life with a sound that was pure music. “See? It wants to be driven.”

Rhys buckled his passenger seatbelt with a resigned sigh.

“I’m going to die because you’re bored. This is so undignified.”

I hit the gas. The car shot forward, the force pinning us both to our seats. We flew down the pack roads, the wind whipping through the open windows. For the first time since I’d returned, I felt alive. This was a thrill. This was speed. This was…

SCRUNCH! CRASH!

…a disaster.

I’d taken a turn too fast, overcorrected and sideswiped a streetlight. The screech of metal was horrifying. The car lurched to a halt, smoke... or maybe steam... hissing from the crumpled front end. The beautiful, sculpted hood was now a twisted mess of steel and broken glass.

My heart plunged into my boots.

“No. No, no, no, no.”

Rhys was staring at the destroyed front end, his face pale.

“He’s going to skin us alive. He’s going to use our pelts as rugs in this very study.”

Panic was a cold fist in my chest. My father’s furious face flashed in my mind. I was dead. So, so dead.

“Relax,” Rhys said, though he sounded anything but relaxed. “Just… relax. I know a place. Gus’s Garage. They fix anything. I mean, anything. They welded old man Higgins’s tractor back together after it rolled down a ravine.”

It was our only hope. We managed to coax the wounded beast of a car a few more blocks, its front end groaning in protest with every meter, until we limped into a rundown-looking auto shop.

The waiting area was a cramped, greasy room that smelled of oil and stale coffee. I paced like a caged animal, running my hands through my hair. My father was going to disown me. This was it. My reign as future Alpha was ending before it even began, all because of a streetlight.

“Will you sit down?” Rhys muttered from a plastic chair. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I can’t sit! My life is over, Rhys! Completely...”

The door to the garage bay opened and I turned, ready to snap at whatever mechanic was going to give me a huge bill.

The words died in my throat.

The girl walking in was… wow.

She had long dark hair tied back in a simple ponytail, strands of it sticking to her neck in the humid garage air. Her face was smudged with a little grease, but it only highlighted her sharp cheekbones and the startling grey of her eyes. She was slim but looked strong, pulling off heavy work coveralls like they were haute couture.

My brain short-circuited. All the panic about the car, my father, my impending doom... it just vanished. Poof. Gone. Replaced by a single, overwhelming thought: Who is she?

I must have been staring because Rhys elbowed me sharply in the ribs. I shook my head, clearing the fog.

I couldn’t help it. A slow grin spread across my face.

“Well, hello there.” My voice came out a little smoother than I intended. “I’m Declan. And you are?”

She kept her eyes down, focused on a clipboard.

“Freya. Gus said you had a… situation.” Her voice was quiet, melodic, but guarded.

“You could say that,” I said, stepping closer. “I’d say we need a miracle worker. And if you’re the one who’s gonna perform it, then I’m a believer.”

She finally glanced up, those stormy grey eyes flicking to me for a second before darting away. A faint blush colored her cheeks. It was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen.

Rhys, the idiot, chose that moment to snort.

“Seriously, Dec? Her? You’re flirting with the dirty blood?”

The term hit the air like a physical slap. Dirty blood. My smile faltered. I saw Freya flinch, her shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly as she scribbled something on her clipboard.

Something cold settled in my gut. Dirty blood. The traitor’s daughter. The stories from my childhood came rushing back. The whispers about the Nolans. The attack that killed hundreds. The outrage. The fury.

This was Freya Nolan?

I stared at her, really looking now. Past the beauty, I saw the faint, silvery scar on her jawline. The way she held herself, trying to be small and unnoticed. The wariness in her eyes. This was the orphan the whole pack despised.

But… she was just fixing our car. She hadn’t done anything. And Rhys was being a jerk.

“Shut up, Rhys,” I snapped, my voice harsher than I meant it to be. He looked at me, startled. I turned back to Freya. “Ignore him. He was dropped on his head as a pup. Repeatedly.”

She didn’t reply, just gave a tiny, barely-there nod and got to work. I watched, mesmerized, as she moved around the car. Her hands, though small, were confident and sure. She knew exactly what she was doing.

In what felt like no time at all, she’d bashed out the worst of the dent, replaced the broken headlight and buffed the scrapes until the car, while not perfect, looked a thousand times better.

“It’s drivable,” she said softly, still avoiding direct eye contact. “The alignment might be a little off, so take it easy. That’ll be two hundred.”

I pulled out my wallet and handed her a stack of bills.

“Keep the change. Seriously. For your trouble.”

She carefully peeled off the extra bills and held them back out to me.

“No. Two hundred is the price. Thank you.”

I was stunned. No one refused money. Especially not… well, someone in her position. I took the extra cash back, feeling strangely chastised.

“Okay. Sure. Thank you.”

She just nodded again, then turned and practically scurried back into the garage, disappearing from view.

The drive home was quiet. Rhys knew better than to speak. I was too busy thinking about a pair of stormy grey eyes and the quiet strength it took to refuse an Alpha’s son.

I walked back into the mansion, my mind a thousand miles away, replaying the whole encounter. The initial spark, the shocking revelation, her skillful hands, her quiet dignity in the face of Rhys’s insult…

I was so lost in thought that I almost walked right into Beta Jensen. His face was like thunder.

“Declan,” he said, his voice clipped and angry. “Your father. His study. Now.”

The cold fist of panic was back, squeezing my heart. He knew about the car. Of course he knew.

I took a deep breath, my thoughts of a certain mechanic vanishing, replaced by the grim reality of my father’s wrath. This was it.

I was in so much trouble…