What The Alpha Lost

(Amara's POV)

The wheels hit the tarmac hard enough to rattle my teeth, and the woman next to me gasped like we'd survived something.

"Every time," she muttered, crossing herself. "Every single time."

"We're fine," I said. "That's just how landings feel."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't flinch once this whole flight."

"I'm a doctor. I've had worse mornings."

She laughed, surprised into it, and I turned to the window before she could ask what kind of doctor, what kind of worse. Grey drizzle streaked the glass. Beyond it: pine trees, wet asphalt, a sky the color of an old bruise. Home.

I pressed my palm flat against the cold window and didn't move it until the plane stopped.

"Visiting family?" the man in 14C asked, reaching for his bag the second the seatbelt sign dinged off.

"Coming home."

"Nice. Long time?"

"Five years."

He whistled low. "That's a long time to be gone."

"Yeah," I said. "It is."

I didn't tell him I'd left crying so hard the TSA agent asked if I needed a minute. I didn't tell him I used to practice saying I'm fine in the mirror until it sounded true. Strangers on planes didn't need my whole life. Just the headline.

My phone buzzed the second I turned it on. Thirty-one texts. Twenty-eight of them from Maya.

ARE YOU ON THE PLANE ANSWER ME I SWEAR TO THE MOON AMARA, ok that last one was an accident but also still relevant somehow

I laughed out loud. The man in 14C gave me a strange look and hurried off the jet bridge.

My suitcase came out on the belt dented on one corner, which felt about right for how the rest of this trip was shaping up.

She was easy to spot, purple streaks in her hair, bouncing on her heels by baggage claim, holding a foam finger that said WELCOME BACK, NERD in glitter marker already flaking off.

"AMARA!"

"Maya"

She hit me like a small, determined hurricane, and I dropped my carry-on to catch her, laughing into her hair.

"You're early," she said into my shoulder. "You are an absolute psychopath. I would've made a sign. A good one."

"That is a good sign."

"This is a rush job sign. I had four hours' notice." She pulled back, held me at arm's length, inspected me like she was checking for damage. "You look different."

"I look tired."

"You look like a doctor who forgot how to sleep. Same thing, I guess." She grabbed my bag before I could stop her. "Okay. Plan. I drive you to your parents', you sneak in the back, your mom cries, your dad pretends he's not crying"

"That's the plan I had too."

"Great minds." She looped her arm through mine and steered me toward the garage. "I'm filming it, by the way. For the group chat. Lydia's already betting on how fast your mom breaks down."

"How much time did she give her?"

"Three minutes. I think that's generous."

"I think that's insulting. She'll last ninety seconds, tops."

"You're betting against your own mother?"

"I know my mother."

The garage smelled like exhaust and wet concrete. Maya tossed my bag in the back seat, slid behind the wheel, and sat there a second too long before putting the key in the ignition.

"You good?" I asked.

"I'm great. Why?"

"You're staring at the dashboard like it owes you money."

"I'm admiring the dashboard. It's a nice dashboard." She started the car. "So. Five years. You're a real doctor now. Like, officially official."

"Officially official. Board-certified and everything."

"Does that mean you can write me drugs?"

"It means I took an oath specifically not to do that for friends who ask within ninety seconds of picking me up from the airport."

"Boring. What was the point of medical school, then."

"Saving lives, apparently."

"Overrated." She merged onto the main road, wipers squeaking against a drizzle that couldn't decide if it wanted to be real rain. "Okay, actual question. Are you nervous?"

"About what?"

"About being back. About all of it."

I considered lying. Didn't. "Terrified."

"Good. If you weren't terrified I'd be worried you got a personality transplant along with the degree."

"So," I said, needing a different subject, any subject. "Tell me everything. Who's dating who. Who got kicked out of the pack. Did Old Soren finally propose to that widow he's been mooning over for a decade."

"Soren's still mooning. It's genuinely tragic at this point. Someone needs to lock them in a room together." She drummed her fingers on the wheel. "Lydia got promoted to Beta's second. Your mom started a healing circle that's basically a book club with extra steps. Marcus's cough got worse, your mom's worried, though she won't say it like that."

"How worried?"

"Worried enough that she's been at the pack house twice a week instead of once."

I filed that away to ask about it later. "What else?"

"Lots of stuff happened. Small stuff, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Mostly." She wasn't looking at me.

"Maya."

"What?"

"You're doing the thing. The thing where you talk fast about nothing so I won't notice you're avoiding something."

"I am not."

"You are. You did it in tenth grade right before you told me you kissed Jordan Esposito."

"That was ONE time"

"And you're doing it now."

She finally looked at me, and something in her face made my stomach drop before she even opened her mouth.

"Okay," she said. "Okay, I was going to wait until we got to your parents', but you're going to ask anyway, so."

"Ask what?"

"You're going to ask about Damon."

My whole chest went tight. "Is he okay? Is something wrong with him?"

"No. No, he's fine. He's physically, he's completely fine."

"Then what?"

She put both hands on the wheel like she needed something to hold onto.

"Maya. What."

"I've seen him. Recently. A lot, actually, because he's...." She stopped herself. Started over. "He's different than you remember."

"Different how?"

"Amara"

"Just tell me."

"I wanted to tell you over coffee. Somewhere with good lighting. Somewhere you could throw something if you needed to."

"Throw something at what?"

"At me, probably. For not calling sooner."

"Maya, you're scaring me more than whatever you're about to say."

"I'm aware. I'm bad at this part. I had a whole speech planned and it's gone, it's just gone, my brain deleted it the second you asked."

"Then wing it."

"I don't want to wing this."

"Maya"

"Okay. Okay, here's the thing." She took a breath big enough to fill the whole car. "You asked if he's okay. He's okay. Healthy, walking around, running the garage, all of that. Pack's fine. Nothing bad happened to him."

She didn't answer right away, and in the silence I heard it not words, just the shape of bad news arriving, the particular weight that settles into a car right before someone says something you can't un-hear.

"Okay," I said slowly. "Then what. Say it like a normal person, Maya, I'm begging you."

"Is he with someone?" I asked. My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

Maya's jaw worked. She looked at the steering wheel instead of me.

"Maya. Is he with someone?"

"Amara"

"Say it."

She turned to face me, and her eyes were wet, and I understood right before she said a single word that whatever she was about to tell me was going to rearrange every single thing I'd spent five years building myself back up to believe.

"There's something you need to know about Damon," she said. "Before you walk onto that territory and someone else tells you first."

"Tell me."

She reached over and took my hand. Her fingers were ice cold.

"He's not alone anymore."

The garage went very quiet. Somewhere above us, a plane took off, engine roaring, carrying someone else away from this exact spot and for one long, terrible second, I envied them completely.

"Maya," I said. "Who is it?"

She didn't answer.

She just held on tighter, and the longer she stayed silent, the more certain I became that coming home a week early might turn out to be the worst decision I had ever made in my life.