Navy curtains billowed as a breeze blew in. The room I awoke in was unfamiliar. The mattress shifted as Paul rolled over in his sleep, still clothed on top of the covers. The soft rise and fall of his chest suggested he would be out for hours.

From the open window, people had already begun their slogs to work, revving engines and slamming car doors; the sounds punctuated with the occasional neighbor walking barking dogs.

When the sensory fog cleared from my brain, I sat up, rolling the covers down. Blood from the wound crusted on my jeans. Underneath the ripped fabric, a soft gauze dressing masked any horror.

Globs of dried blood refused to budge as I scrubbed with my fingernails. I was more surprised there was still enough pumping in my veins; the deep muscle ache became thunderous with a flex of my foot as I crawled off the bed. Every movement seemed heavier than the last.

There was a moment, right after I stood, where the world swam as my head pounded. Nausea crept up from my abdomen, replacing my stomach with a giant black hole. Small pieces of memory made their way back into my head. Paul had driven like a maniac.

Despite the bumps in the road, curled up in the truck, sleep was a foe I couldn't fight. After that, I remembered nothing. There wasn't a single awareness of how I made it into the house or even up the stairs.

Outside his bedroom door was a bathroom and a second room. The bare floorboards creaked as I darted across, needing to pee. Turning the lock, I almost jumped at the reflection in the mirror above the sink; clumped corkscrew curls mixed with flecks of red. My scalp throbbed under the hairline.

The faucet spluttered as I scrubbed my face with care. Whatever I saw last night I was scared to see again, scared to catch a glimmer of a nightmare out of the corner of my eye. The wolf's characteristics reflected elements of a face I had not seen since childhood. Until I understood why, my guard would remain sky-high.

The smell of grilled bacon greeted me halfway down the stairs. Luke maneuvered around a small matchbox-size kitchen. Scattered sports magazines littered the round tabletop in the center. Tinged brown tiles on the walls alluded to the age of the property. A window with a netted curtain looked out over the driveway. I lurked in the doorway, unsure what version of Luke I'd run into. I needed to leave, so long as the front door wasn't locked.

The room was filled with a certain quiet that only came with a long-held secret, one that everyone had been shying away from but could never truly keep hidden. I was the only one who hadn't known, the only one who hadn't seen it coming.

"How are you feeling?" he said, snapping me from my thoughts without him looking away from the stove.

"Thought you two didn't cook."

The corner of his mouth lifted and he breathed in deeply, his eyes briefly closing. "You haven't eaten it yet."

Beneath my feet, the floor became soft. My legs wobbled as the thumping in my head became persistent. Reaching out to grip the door frame, I steadied myself. When I imagined fainting, it was never like this. It was with delicate femininity, with one arm shielding my brow, and not with the force of a sack of potatoes that I was about to hit the floor with.

"Dana, sit." Luke guided me to the table, and I did as he asked. "You took a hard knock to your head. Don't underestimate the effect that will have. Take it easy. Eat."

"You raged at me yesterday, and now you want to eat breakfast?" My fingers moved over my hairline but refrained from touching down.

His expression refused to soften. "I was under a little pressure last night. We all were. I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say." He poured ground coffee into a mug with two painkillers by its side. It smelled delicious.

"I would prefer a glass of water."

"No, you wouldn't." There was amusement in his voice. He set a steaming cup in front of me. "Paul says you want answers, but I don't think you are ready to hear them yet. After last night, he disagrees."

"And you know me better than Paul?"

"I know you'll be avoiding looking in the mirror this morning."

I sipped my drink slowly, watching him carefully. "Can you read my mind too?" My eyes scanned him for the same hostility from the night before, but he smiled instead. The answer was clear; it had been from the moment I'd met them both, from knowing I had no cash to pay for a repair to where home was.

Hell, thinking back, I'd never even asked Paul to check for what I hit, but I had mentally begged the man to before he'd answered. I never explicitly told them anything, yet they always seemed to know just what I needed.

"I was the same the first time. Wouldn't anyone unfamiliar want answers after that? That's a natural assumption, not mind tricks, Dana."

The first time? My heart beat painfully in my chest, and I couldn't force the words out to the question I now wanted to know. In its place, I did what anyone else would have done if their questions were unanswered; I repeated them again.

"But you can read my mind, can't you?" The question was more to see if he was still willing to lie to my face than anything else.

He put the spatula down and turned back to me. "I know you don't want water. I also know that after last night, you won't trust me the way you thought you did. But you can."

"Is that still an assumption?"

"Nope. Not that one. You have a face that could sour milk, but you wonder whether the front door is locked. It's not." Luke placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.

This was as much of an admission as I was going to get. "How do you do it?" I picked up a fork and began shoveling bacon into my mouth. The dizziness subsided with every bite. The ends were too crisp and brittle, but I was beyond starved to care. "You're right about one thing," I added.

His smile was already wide, knowing my reply before I'd even verbalized it. "Paul told you we couldn't cook. Not everything was a lie."

"My brother and I have the same routine every Sunday: We drive to the diner, order the same meals—two burgers and two fries—and joke about our lack of cooking skills."

"See, you remember," he said. Yanking the kitchen drawer open, he grabbed his own fork, then walked over to the table and took the seat in front of me. I shuffled a little further away. This man was now all smiles and sunshine.

"I'm not a threat to you," he said, his voice low and gentle. As he said it, his eyes dropped away from mine.

"Then why don't you look convinced?" I asked, feeling a sharpness growing inside me.

"Because someone else might be," he said, his gaze still downward.

My fork thudded onto the plate. Bacon lodged in my throat, and it took all my effort to chew and swallow. Astonished to realize he was the one who now appeared nervous, it was hard to process. I waited for him to elaborate, but he only offered a tight smile and continued to eat.

I leaned forward. "Who? Tell me what I saw last night?"

"What do you think you saw?"

"A wolf."

"How? Be specific."

"A wolf with the eyes of my grandmother which is impossible because she's been dead for three months. How does that happen?"

Her features—from her expression to the wrinkles that would form around my mouth —were all those of Lucille.

"It feels like your soul is being ripped out when you hear an Alpha's cry, doesn't it? It's a dominant force. I'm not entirely sure how she did it in fact given that the title was passed along."

I stared in disbelief. That's exactly how it had felt. I had no clue how to interpret the meaning of his words. Was it a ghost? An illusion? What is an Alpha? How did they know that would happen? Would it happen again?

"Before you can have answers, your understanding of all that is possible needs to be—" he clasped his hands together and measured his words with care—"expanded upon."

"Did you Paul that would happen last night?"

"There are certain things that, if you live in this town for long enough, under the right set of circumstances, will happen no matter who is there with you. Paul went to stop you on the off chance you'd try to leave town. Benton doesn't like it when we leave."

My hands balled into fists. How could they not have warned me before not to try and leave town? Even once I get the money, how do I leave to pay... I stopped myself and my head shot up to Luke's.

Luke's brows drew in as he studied me. "How do you leave to do what?"

I swallowed hard, thinking fast on my feet. "How do I sell Lucille's and leave. Period." I lied.

"Paul came after you, y'know. Would you have believed him or even blamed him if he'd stayed? Some things need learning on your own terms."

"Your terms as I found out last night." I shot back in anger. "Throwing me to the wolves today?"

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "This already looks a lot like the deep end. Before you judge me so harshly, remember, what I do, I do for the best of my family—and this town. Now you're here, that includes you too."

Paul's heavy work boots smacked on the stairs, ending our conversation. He'd slipped on new jeans and thrown a T-shirt on. His sandy hair stuck out at wild angles. The relief on his face said, "Thank fuck you didn't run while I slept."

His eyes darted between me and Luke. "You guys worked things out yet?" Paul took a seat beside me at the table.

"It would have come as no surprise if I woke up in the pit like Carlyle this morning. Or if Luke bolt-locked the front door instead this morning."

"Ouch," Paul mouthed. "Guess you deserved that one, brother." He faced me. "Carlyle is fine, trust me." He picked up a piece of bacon from my plate and popped it into his mouth before grimacing.

"He didn't look fine last night. I would go as far as to say he feared you both. Should I feel the same?"

Luke stood, cleared out plates, and stacked them in the dishwasher. "You wanna call him and see? He's rosy, Peach." His grin stretched wide over his face, touching each cheek.

The throwaway comment did little to appease my growing anger with him.

Paul glared at Luke and slowly shook his head. "That name's off the table for you."

The brothers smiled at each other. We fell into silence. Much of last night had shaken me, but I also wasn't Jenny's brother's biggest fan. I wouldn't ever be. Paul's arm rested on the back of my chair.

"I know this morning everything must seem unreal, scary to even consider. His voice was now a mere whisper in my ear. "All I'll ever ask of you is to try."

Luke's brows knitted together as he looked on at us. I reminded myself that even though this was a situation I wouldn't ever want or imagine myself in, I had witnessed Paul attempt to stand up to his brother yesterday, wanting me to have the truth that had now become a craving for me to know.

"You've left me no choice but to try and hear you out."

Paul's eyes gave away nothing but sincerity. "I deserve that and so much worse."

The pained look that followed his delivery thawed me, and my anger should not have been ebbing away with him—but it was. Last night should have served as a red flag, but my conscience reminded me that, ultimately, Paul was there when I needed him the most. Now events involved Lucille, and I needed to be told why.

"I am going to need answers—soon." I cast a steely glare at both men. "So you have twenty-four hours." My voice held a warning of what was to come that they couldn't ignore. Who knew what Lucille had planned? I wasn't waiting to find out. Paul and Luke were just pawns in a game I didn't know the name of.