The truck pulled to an abrupt stop outside. The throbbing in my head had subsided. All that remained was an arctic cold in my veins. Luke had driven in silence, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing the fine stubble on his chin.

The wait for him to speak became grueling, but I knew there wasn't going to be a single thing to like about whatever was occupying his thoughts. Never did something mundane ever come from his mouth.

He had promised to keep me safe. Now, through no fault of my own, I had two enemies in town. We'd planned to drive back and update Paul. I wasn't sure who the greater evil was: Lucille or Antoine now. As we walked up to their front door, it opened before us having to try. Paul stood dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. A look passed between them, and for the first time, I didn't get hit by a barrage of questions from him. His gaze bypassed mine, flitting to my head and then to Luke.

"Is she okay?" Even though his voice boarded on a low growl, his words seemed measured with a certain care.

"We need to talk. Dana, do you want to head up to my room to rest? I could check on you soon. There are some things I should discuss with Paul if that's okay with you?"

"Wait...your room? Their connection? What do you mean by their connection? She met Lucille with you there?" Paul glanced my way, seeking the truth, but I couldn't bear to meet his eyes. There was silence while he filled in the mental blanks. For the first time in my life, I didn't argue. I pushed past them both and took the stairs two at a time with my bag slung around my shoulder.

As I trudged passed him, Paul sharply inhaled.

You smell like him now.

I pretended I couldn't hear him in my head and continued up to his room, their voices on the porch stayed low on purpose. Rather than it irritating me, I was grateful not to be part of a conversation that would hurt Paul further.

Luke's room was like Paul's. A large double bed rested against navy-painted walls. A small television sat on the desk next to a set of clean, folded towels. Dropping my bag, I climbed into bed. My mind reeled. I reminded myself this was progress, and although scary, I was one baby step closer to getting my money and leaving town. Even so, there was the nagging thought that progress shouldn't look like a wolf primed to rip my throat out.

Why had she acted so hostile towards me? Perhaps Luke was right, she'd lost her human side and was too far gone to save now, becoming a hazard to everyone.

I rolled onto my side, inching the comforter up to my shoulders. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, at some point, I must have drifted off to sleep. I didn't even remember closing my eyes, but when I woke, the light from the house was gone, and Paul was sitting on the edge of the bed.

He hadn't yet noticed I was awake. His face was ashen as he played with the pleats in the comforter that enveloped me. I owed him an apology of sorts. Continually pushing him away, I now understood why Paul had approached this the way he had. If I had been shown Lucille from the get-go, I would have bolted, turning my back on Benton, and most likely dead in a ditch by now at the hands of Antoine. But that's where hindsight fails. With the same approach, my trust was damaged time and time again and never rebuilt by the people of Benton.

There was no way it was going to end any differently than it had. Paul was always going to try and take this slow, and that was always going to put us in the predicament that we now found ourselves in. I cleared my throat. Paul's head snapped up.

His expression changed before he spoke. "You let my brother be the one to help you. You trusted him more than you trusted me."

My heart broke that these were statements, not questions. I sat up and reached for his hand, but it withdrew, the look in his eyes still pained. He waited for me to speak, to correct him, but in all honesty, that had been my complete truth up until now. The secrets and dishonesty needed to end.

"He scented you."

He did what? "No, you have that all wrong. He familiarized himself with me so he could protect me."

"No, Dana, he scented you. I've spent the day at Lucille's place, with your pillows, your clothes, just being in your space. I've familiarized myself with you now on my own. What he's done is different. Thought you knew about Wattpad wolves?"

"I did, at least before I met the paywall. Then I switched to free brooding college hockey players. Plus, it's not like that."

"Don't," he interrupted. "I can't hear it right now, and from the story, Luke told me, you have bigger problems anyway. I'll be here if you need me, but I won't be around either if you get my drift. The Alpha's claim is final."

What was he talking about? My heart broke again as he stood and shot me a weak smile that ricocheted like a bullet in my chest. He must have sensed my despair because he backed up, shoving his hands deep into his pockets so as not to risk me reaching for them again. How would I ever be able to show him that my trust was now a commodity I felt able to give him and only him? In his eyes, I had swapped his trust in me for what he deemed an intimate act with his brother. Intimacy with Paul was something I had already given him, at least in part. Now, I'd broken something sacred.

As an army of fierce tears began to stream down my face, he turned to the door. The ridges of his brows contorted with indecision before he looked at me a final time. I wanted him to stay. In his eyes was my answer. He blinked, turning away, leaving me sitting on the bed, alone for the first time in months.

That night, it was almost impossible to sleep knowing that Paul's bedroom door was opposite mine. As promised, around midnight, a light tap came on the door, and Luke came in.

He surveyed me and then expelled a lengthy sigh from his nose. I wiped my eyes and smoothed errant curls back into place, but my chin wobbled for the billionth time this evening.

"He said you scented me, whatever that hell that is. I don't know how to make it right with him."

Luke sat beside me. The kindness in his eyes further shattered my resolve. "It wasn't my intention, but it kept you safe like you asked."

"What does that mean, anyway?"

Luke cleared his throat. "It acts as a claim, that you are mine, and that I am yours. I needed to be sure you would be protected around Lucille. It's temporary unless I..." His fingers brushed the hair from my neck as his eyes scanned my neck.

"Ew and no way."

Luke chuckled. "He's upset and needs some time but more pressingly is what we do now about Lucille."

I sat up and drew my knees under my chin. "And what do we do about her?" For the last few hours, my focus had been only on Paul. Luke was right, other events were taking over, and now I needed to pay them equal respect in my head.

"Do you remember that some shifts can spark a manifestation of anger in its purest form?"

I felt like telling him, how could I forget that gem of wisdom? It was single-handedly responsible for most of my nightmares.

"When Paul last attempted a shift, he tried to resist and it failed because I willed it so. Think of it like rejecting a transplanted organ that's not of your blood. But what happened to Paul and what happened to Lucille today is something else. She should not have been able to approach an Alpha in that way and walk away."

"You're saying you don't know how to help me help her?"

"I'm saying I don't know how to stop her. There's neglect for the hierarchy we've always respected. She shouldn't have been able to get to you like that. I anticipated she may have shown you a few images, thoughts, or impressions, something that would help us further. I don't even know what she is anymore."

"She's feral, but we can't give up." And I wouldn't. Lucille's note still reminded me that I shouldn't give my trust freely to Luke, but he was right, without his protection today, Lucille could have killed.

"I've been thinking. Carlyle has been acting strange. Yeah, he is pissed that he doesn't want to shift with the Pack, but on reflection, maybe it's more than that. I've always known he was born a lone wolf, but that never stops us from trying to include him. What I don't know is how far those tendencies would push him into action. Perhaps, keep your distance from him."

"You think he could hurt me?"

"I mean, it's probable, wouldn't you say?" Luke's concerned stare met my vacant one. "Think about it; how does he get you to leave town? He's worried, much as the rest of the Pack is on what Lucille's lost presence as former Alpha means."

The more I allowed my mind to ponder the mechanics, the more Luke could be right. "What does Paul think?"

"He's not exactly talking to me." His eyes dropped to his palms. "But give him space and time. I scented you pretty hard." The tips of his fingers brushed the tight curls that fell in front of my face. "Tomorrow, I need to go into the shop, but instead of being out front, why don't you work from my office at the back? Give each other a bit of space?"

"I can't sleep. Not with Paul across the way, refusing to talk to me."

"You'll have to try, Dana."

At work the next day, I avoided Paul. It was difficult, but a job I needed to do if I wanted to respect his wishes and give him space. Most of the night, while watching movies, stifling yawns, I thought about how I could make it up to Paul. He wasn't ready to hear my explanations, so that was out of the window. But if I knew Paul the way I thought I did, he would try to be in my head. That would be the way to get through to him. I was now the one with a lesson to teach, and my god was that boy going to learn it.

I commandeered the back office on Luke's advice while Paul worked the shop floor and pit in front of me. Every time I was in his orbit, the familiar gravitational pull threw my world off its axis. He knew it. Heck, I knew it too.

Endless seconds became wasted as he fought with himself. Chance glances thrown my way were waiting to bait me. In the end, I realized there was nothing coincidental about them. Paul was playing hardball, and he was too stubborn to stop. I was ready to give in to it, but he wasn't going to give me the satisfaction.

I busied myself with filing and answering the phone on its first ring. My mind wrestled with exhaustion. I put one-hundred and ten percent concentration on allowing him access to my thoughts. If he didn't speak to me, I would afford him free rein in my head.

I shuffled the papers on my desk for what must have been the eighth time in the last twenty minutes. Paul stretched, gripped the hem of his t-shirt, and lifted, revealing a deep v-line that forced my eyes down. He used it to wipe his face. Few things in life looked this glorious. I couldn't concentrate when he did that. If there were thoughts I wanted him to understand, these were not the ones. I wondered how far away he had to be before my thoughts were his.

On that note, his familiar smirk made an appearance. "Not far enough yet, Peach," he called out without missing a beat.

On autopilot, my mind diverted to a gruesome scene from a slasher flick I'd once watched. It served as a warning; if indeed he'd found a mouse-sized hole to crawl in by, and it wasn't a thought I'd planned on him being privy to, I would make him metaphorically bleed.

I leaned forward, grappled with the pull cord, and dropped the blind on the office window. A faint chuckle echoed along with the thud of his boots as he disappeared back into the pit. For the rest of the day, I ignored him, surrendering to what he wanted. When my shift ended, I strolled out to the lot and waited by Luke's truck. I glanced down at my watch and then to the shop door. I sighed, leaning against the door.

Things were at a precipice already after only one day of having him ignore me. It was excruciating. I wanted to slap him but also have him kiss me so freaking much. Dickhead.

"Who's a dickhead?" Luke asked as he appeared, clicking the keys and unlocking the truck.

I climbed in and buckled up. "Your brother. I don't know how long I can do this for."

Luke beamed. "Dana, this isn't even the hard part. Listen, I need to drop you at the house and go and check on my dad. I'm worried. He's getting worse, more forgetful, his breathing more labored. Carlyle will sit downstairs until Paul locks the shop."

Luke was being extra sensitive to me lately and I wanted to show him I could be trusted. "I'm sorry to hear that. I'll stay put, don't worry."

After a late dinner, I watched old reruns on the television in Luke's bedroom. The sound of canned laughter filled the empty house as I trudged downstairs to the kitchen and poured myself a drink. Carlyle had retreated outside to his van hours ago. A key turned in the lock. They'd started to lock the doors. Only one other brother had a key. Before I could rush my way back upstairs, a gentle hand caught my arm on the first step.

"You can't go upstairs." A lazy smile graced his face, and it seemed impossible that in a few short hours, I forget the internal destruction that his features could cause. He tapped his lips. "First, you have to pay the toll."

"Move," I said, now already annoyed with him. A drunken kiss he would blame me for in the morning would help no one. That didn't mean I wasn't longing for it.

His voice faltered. "You've been avoiding me." This other version of Paul was going to sink me like lead if it kept it up. The aroma of whiskey was an undertone in his minty breath. He was drunk, and about five minutes or one whiskey sour away from passing out.

"Haven't. I've just been really busy—like you."

"Yeah, someplace else... on purpose, he added. That's avoidance."

"Because that's what you need me to do. True?"

"Granted, I'm not the biggest fan of you hankering down across the hall in my brother's bedroom, but at least you smell better now than you did." He stepped in closer, my back pressing against the wall. He moved my hair but stopped a fraction away from kissing my neck. "Sure I can't convince you to switch rooms? Does it matter which brother you bunk with?"

I pulled back. The look in his eyes said his words hurt him more than they hurt me, but they were still designed to cut, beat, and bruise the receiver.

"Now you're being bitter." I pushed him off, and he stumbled back a few steps. "Are you trying to make me cry?"

"I'd rather count your smiles than your tears, Peach, but I'll take what I can get."

"I've tried to apologize, but you're not listening," I pleaded.

"Sounds like a familiar problem," he replied.

"I'm not your girlfriend. You aren't even talking to me anymore."

He shrugged, his hand jutting out to steady himself on the wall. "Having a girlfriend is like having a cat. They eat all your food, randomly try to claw your eyes out, sleep on anyone's bed, and shed hair on everything you own. I am surprised you have any left. All considered, I would say you've been my cat for a while..."

"I already heard what happens to the cats in your stories. Go sober up with a coffee. It's not the end of the goddamn world. It's a bed. It's not like he sleeps in it too. Do you have any idea how hard I'm trying? When you want to really talk, not bicker, you know where I am. I'll be sleeping." I called back over my shoulder, aiming for indifference, though my heart pounded in my chest. I didn't wait to see his reaction—didn't dare to. Ignoring the dull roar in my ears, I climbed up the stairs much faster than before.

"But you aren't sleeping," he murmured from below, his words barely reaching me now. He was moving further away from the stairs, resigning himself to solitude. "You're running."

It didn't come as the shout I expected. The words were no more than an embittered murmur, barely loud enough to reach me where I stood. I paused in my ascent, turning to look at him over my shoulder - seeing him slumped against the wall, his gaze filled with something akin to resignation, but the paper-thin walls did nothing to stop his final words from calling up and echoing on the landing.

"And Peach? In the morning, I'm gonna feel like shit for everything I've just said. Remember that when you're ignoring me."

The tears that I had been fighting back were winning now, tearing free and marking trails down my cheeks.