The trees whizzed by outside of the car window as Sandra and Millie drove down the mountain highway, through large sweeping corners and over tall bridges that looked down on dark rivers. The peaks were still grand and white, taking up the horizon. The sky way quickly approaching the rainbow sorbet color of sunset. Millie kept her eyes on the clouds, exhausted by her day, and the rest of the week that spread out expansively ahead of her.

Sandra had been circling back to the same tiring conversation every ten minutes, deviating only to scold her and worry and curse. "Did you actually eat and then take your medicine this morning?"

"Mom, for the hundredth time: yes, I did. Like I said, I had a headache from the time I woke up. You heard the doctor; it was just another episode."

Sandra shook her head and Millie knew her nurse-brain just wouldn't take that answer. There was always a reason for something, they just didn't know what. And Sandra wanted to find out, desperately. At least for the next twenty-four hours, before she would spiral into a self-loathing, denial-fueled slump and forget about her daughter going missing or being sick. Millie didn't hold that against her, it was just how she was, and it couldn't be helped.

From what she had gathered, Millie had experienced a head rush that morning—or, at least, that was the best excuse they could make. Tara and Mitch had immediately stooped down to check on her as the teacher shoved her way to the back of the room to see for herself what had caused the students to rise and gather around the unconscious girl. It took only a minute for someone to pull out a phone and dial 9-1-1. It took fifteen minutes for the ambulance to arrive and by that time, Millie had been walked to the nurse's office with her cheeks pink with embarrassment. The school nurse had begun to assess her, asking questions, shining a light in her eyes. But Millie was just as confused as she was, except she also had a still throbbing headache and a bit of nausea. With that, she was deemed concussed by the time the medic arrived, and she agreed as well.

The nurse called her mother too, who insisted she be transported for further scans. So, they drug Millie to Kalispel where she was poked, prodded, and scanned for the rest of the day. Which was how she was driving back to Sapher with her mother at sundown, two hours before Sandra's shift technically ended.

For the rest of the drive, the two were silent, both trapped in their own thoughts. Millie was exhausted and all she could think about was her bed and sleeping for the next year. When they got home, Millie B-lined for her bedroom, bidding her mother goodnight as Sandra was scrounging up food in the kitchen.

"Millie, no school for at least the next three days. I still have work, so you'll be stuck here." Her mother said, peering down the hall at her daughter who paused in her bedroom doorway.

"I know." Millie sighed, feeling put-out, sick, and frankly quite embarrassed. She didn't really want to go to school yet after that episode anyways. "I'm just going to sleep anyways."

"Rest is good. Don't forget to eat." It was sort of funny to Millie that Sandra felt the constant need to remind her of what she already knew. As if she had no trust in her daughter. Millie had decided long ago that it was okay, she didn't trust her mother either.

Millie nodded, "Goodnight." And she disappeared into her room. Without bothering to turn on the light, she flopped down on her light gray duvet. Flipping over onto her back, she groaned and covered her face with her hands. Admittedly, she was more than a little embarrassed, she was mortified. And when her phone started to ring, she debated for a long time if she should answer it, or escape with whatever dignity she could scrounge and disappear from Sapher for good.

Millie wasn't one for dramatics. She leaned over and snatched her phone from her bedside table, answering it on the last ring.

"Millie Sarcos! Why the hell haven't you answered her phone?" The girl had to pull the phone away from her ear due to the shrillness of Tara's voice buzzing through the speaker.

"It was on my charger, I just got home." Millie sighed, rubbing her hand over her eyes.

"Are you kidding? You forget your phone the day that you die in the classroom?"

"I didn't die, Tara," she rolled her eyes, but the comment did make her laugh a little.

"You may as well have, no one would shut up about it for the rest of the day."

Millie groaned, "Not what I want to hear, Tare."

"I know, I know," Tara sighed herself. "But in all serious, are you alright?"

In all honesty, Millie didn't know. She didn't feel alright. But there were no answers for the questions she was asking. So, in the end, she supposed she was. "I guess so. They took me to KalispelL and ran some tests. It was all very dramatic. I think I just didn't eat enough. All I have to show for it is a fat goose egg on my fucking forehead."

Tara snickers.

"It's not funny," but Millie giggled too.

"Well, can I report this news that your alive to Mitch?"

"Sure, don't let him be mad at me."

"I would never. Glad you're okay. See you tomorrow?"

"Nah, I'm on rest for the next few days. Concussion and all."

"Alright. See you when your face isn't fucked up," Tara laughs.

"Shut up," Millie laughs and ends the call.

Tossing the phone away from her, she relaxes back on her back once more and falls asleep thinking about how true her thought about not being quite alright was.

It was a Monday when Millie smashed her face on the dirty carpet of her homeroom. By Thursday, she was cleared to go back to school, and she still had not made amends with what had occurred. She also didn't feel any better, her head still held the ghost of a headache and her stomach still churned with nausea. She didn't think it was related to the concussion, but yet had everything to do with passing out.

Regardless, she was still exhausted by Thursday. Though her goose egg had been reduced to a dull purple bruise on her forehead. She didn't want to go back to school. But there Tara was, 7:25 on the dot, waiting outside for Millie in her rusted blue Honda. Millie had left her Bronco at school days earlier given all of the events that had occurred. Sandra had been busy with work and therefore hadn't had the time to go get Millie's car.

Tara's car smelled like old cigarettes and tropical air fresheners. The cigarettes, a remnant of the previous owner, her grandfather who had sold the car to her for a Summer's worth of work on his ranch. Despite what she looked like, maybe a California girl, or at least someone who would escape to bigger cities as soon as they hit the age of freedom, she sure knew how to work. It was one of the things that made her more tolerable to Millie.

Millie slid into the passenger seat and secured her belt, "Morning," she muttered, her eyes catching the extra foam cup in the cup holder. "You didn't," she smiled.

"I did, I know you're addicted." Tara hands her the cup of piping black coffee.

"You're the best," Millie took a deep inhale on the aroma coming off the bitter liquid and sunk deeper into her seat. They day didn't seem so bad now.

"I know," Tara smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

The drive to school seemed shorter with the two of them chatting idly. On the other side of the school, someone else was sipping on steaming hot coffee and strolling into the main doors of campus.

Eben Welch was known by most girls at the school to be a tyrant. He was handsome, with his dusty blonde hair, light blue eyes, and tan skin. But he was as handsome as he was terrifying. Like an exotic, poisonous snake, he was beautifully enticing, but his bite could leave you dead or writing in pain. Eben Welch was born into his wealth, too. His father did own the largest mansion in the county, or maybe all of Montana. Regardless, his father was a smart man and happened to dabble in lots of business encounters, both legal and not. It supplemented his medical practice nicely. In a place like Sapher, the law wasn't just, it was bought.

Growing up with the mentality that you can one day own the world, just like your daddy owns Sapher, can do a number on a boy's confidence and morality. Eben didn't have morals, he only got what he wanted, and it didn't matter how you had to go about it. He had a crew of henchman, including his closest friend, Ryan. They were a little pack of their own, tormenting the school, troubling authority, starting ethical conflicts that were unreasonably resolved. Ryan was just as evil as Eben was, and he fed off of the things that his friend tortured. Ryan had a stronger stomach than Eben did and they both knew this, though Eben tried to front otherwise. It was one of the things that Eben's daddy respected Ryan greatly for, and he didn't let Eben forget that.

Eben and Ryan stalked through the halls to their lockers, shoving through throngs of students with displeasure. Scowls seemed to be etched into their faces. The night before had been eventful and exhausting. They had drunk a lot of beer and snorted quite a bit of coke. They were unhinged, or at least beginning to be. There had been a bonfire with the group and a few girls from their class. He couldn't remember much of it. But now he was remembering he did have a paper due today, one that he didn't do.

Girls weren't that interesting in Sapher, in fact, they all seemed to be the same to Eben. Their families worked on farms or ranches, they all grew up in town or around it, and they all seemed to like wearing sandals with socks just a little too much. In his eyes, girls threw themselves at him, endlessly at his disposal, way too willing. He hated the way that they ran in packs, laughing loudly and teasing. He hated how annoying they were. None of them were pure, smart, or deep. Except one.

Millie Sarcos walked by his locker and his eyes locked onto her, following her past. Her ass caught his attention once she was further down the hall. Her ass was perfect, filling out her Levis and curving away from the slope of her back in a way that made his hands long to grab. Ever since she had come to Sapher, he had wanted her. And yet, she wouldn't let him have her. In fact, she paid him no attention, and man did that grind his gears.

"God, pull it together man," Ryan snickered, slamming his locker shut and leaning into the metal. His cold, gray eyes were locked onto Eben's face, all knowing.

Eben sent his friend a withering look before turning his attention to his locker. Inside, there was one overdue textbook, some scraps of paper, and a pencil with no eraser.

"I heard she kissed the carpet on Monday," he snickered again. Eben knew this though, everyone did. And he had seen the bruise on her forehead when she passed which only confirmed the raging rumors.

"Clumsy bitch," Eben rolled his shoulders back and shut his locker. "Let's go."

For some reason that day, Eben could not get Millie out of his head. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen her in a few days, god forbid he was worried for her. Instead, it might have been something much worse than fascination. More like obsession. Millie was untouchable since she came to Sapher, she didn't care about boys or friends or her image. It just made him want her more. He thought about what would happen if she said she didn't want him back, if she didn't admit that her eyes didn't follow him everywhere like his followed her. The idea made his stomach churn and clench in anger. His thoughts of what if bothered him badly enough that he sought her out on the way to lunch.

"Millie," he called, blocking her path to the cafeteria when he slid in front of her. She peered up at him, her brown eyes wide and tired. Her pink lips were full and sporting a constant pout. He wanted that mouth on him. She raised one dark brow in question. "I heard you took a spill on Monday."

Immediately, her eyes rolled in annoyance and she tried to push past him with a sigh only to be blocked by his body once again. Her lips tipped into a frown and she folded her arms over her chest. "Pointless news travels fast." Millie's voice was low and slightly smoky. She had a hard edge that drove him wild, nothing like the softness of some of the other girls he had been with. Eben knew she would fight back.

"I wouldn't say getting a concussion from your homeroom is so pointless," he tried grinning at her. It usually works on his female peers. But Millie's frown just grew.

"What do you want, Eben?" Her tone soured his mood instantly. He had trouble trying to smother his grimace with a flat expression.

"To have you over," he pressed, taking a step into her space. "Come over."

"I don't know you," Millie squints up at him in confusion, not giving up her space, allowing him to get closer. His stomach began to clench.

"Exactly," he urged, stepping further into her space. He caught a strand of her dark hair between his fingers and smirked. "We could get to know each other."

Millie's eyes lingered on his fingers that grasped her hair and she took a large step back from him. Warning bells went off in her head. "Thanks, but I'm alright."

Eben smiled then, a tilt to his lips that chilled Millie to her core. It was not a genuine smile on the boy's face, it was a malicious one. The smile of a serial killer, or a shark. "Alright," he repeated, stepping away from her. "No problem."

One thing Eben rarely heard in his life was the word no. And it pissed him off to no end to hear it now. Especially from some random girl who was new to their town and self-declared to be off limits. His insides soured with potent anger. This confrontation would not be the end of them. He would make sure of that.

Millie was suddenly extremely wary. A sick, dark feeling curled in her own belly. She knew with everything she was that she did not like this guy. This time, he let her push past him. Only as she walked away, she heard him mutter lowly, "You'll regret this."

And Millie was very sure, she probably would.

--------------------------------------------------

When Beck finally got back to his cabin after a solid twelve hours spent repairing the roofs of a few of his pack member's houses, he thought he would be ready for bed. But when he entered his home, he found it to be full of people. From smell alone, he could detect his aunt, Amira, Kristin, and Carter all in the kitchen. No one could sleep with the kind of noise the three of them made together. Even now, the radio was buzzing, Kristin was laughing loudly, Amira was banging pots around, and Carter was telling some elaborate story.

Beck kicked the door shut behind him, the noise didn't stir. He dropped his coat on the railing of the stairs and stalked into the kitchen. In the doorway, he leaned up against the wall and folded his arms over his chest.

"Oh, there you are, honey. I made venison stew!" Amira, always eager to please, smiled brightly at him. She was their pack's best healer and also somewhat of a therapist. She found her knack after the attack, nursing his people back to mental and physical health when even he couldn't.

"It smells delicious," Beck smiled gently at her, without teeth. He always felt the need to be gentle with her. She bore the weight of the pack's feelings with ease, but could barely manage her own. One wrong move and she would burst into tears. Beck had learned the hard way.

Amira blushed at his compliment and moved the pot to simmer on the stove before pulling out a loaf of fresh sourdough bread.

"Have a good day, boss?" Kristin's eyes were on him, scrutinizing every inch of his face as she always did with her dark blue eyes. Her long legs were crossed in front of her as she slouched on the bar stool, resting an elbow on the island counter top. At first glance, many misjudged Kristin. She was built like a model; tall, lean, and delicate curves. But in reality, there was nothing delicate or soft about her. Kristin was the best fighter their pack had, and she had proved it from a very young age.

"Good enough," he grumbled, shuffling over to the dining table and sitting down.

"You look tired," Carter noted, helpfully. Beck shot him a withering glare. The Beta raised his hands in surrender, "Only an observation."

"Goddess, Carter." Kristin rolled her eyes and smacked him upside the head. "Beck, you do look tired though."

"Nothing some soup can't fix," Amira smiled, setting a full bowl with a side of steaming fresh bread before Beck.

"Thank you, auntie," he smiles gratefully at her. The smell of the meal makes his mouth water before he can even take a bite. The four of them settled in at the dining table with their respective bowls to eat. It's a scene that has persisted for years. The sad reality was that this was the only close family they had left. Sitting together at that table, talking about their day, eating a home cooked meal... That was the closest the group had gotten to normal since the attack. Beck knew how important it was to have this closeness, especially for Carter and Kristin, who had been younger than he had during the fight.

When they finished, the sun began to set and Beck helped clean up. He washed pans while Carter cleared the table and Kristin dried. Amira hovered at the edge of the kitchen, waiting for them to clear so she could tidy up before she went home.

While Beck scrubbed the pot, his eyes kept moving to the treeline that was dimming outside the window that hung above the sink. Despite his exhaustion, he was eager for a run. In his marrow, he longed to be in those trees.

After the kitchen was clean, the four went their separate ways and Beck went outside to stretch before he took off. It was nearly sunset, the sun lazing just above the white capped peaks on the other side of the valley.

Stretching his arms up above hishead, he cracked his spine and sighed. And then he gave into the pull,dissolved into his wolf form, and ran. 

its friday!! i hope you enjoyed this one. 

LS