One year ago today, Carolyn and I signed the mortgage on our apartment. A more cynical version of me would have focused on this being the start of the end. Two months later, at a college party, Antoine Beckett bought me a shot and offered me access to his bankroll if I ever needed it.

That girl I was no longer angry with. The vulnerability in my youthful mistakes was a learning point, one I would never repeat, and I was ready to end the lesson.

Paul wore too much cologne this morning that my stomach churned if I stood too close. I was grateful he barely lit a cigarette anymore, but it must have messed with his sense of smell. My stomach couldn't take it. Even though this remote cabin with my friends wasn't a permanent reality, I wanted to hold it tight and close to my heart longer.

I had managed to avoid Luke for a solid two weeks and had settled into a new routine. Even though the dreams still came most nights, I refused to give them any weight. I didn't always succeed, and toPaul's credit, he was trying to give me the space until the thoughts dissipated. Something that meant my bed was empty when I woke.

Each day, I called Carolyn and promised that the exile from our own home would not last much longer. I still needed to deal with Antoine and I would, somehow. Most of my inner demons found their way onto the paper in paint-form, that Paul had bought me. The upside of trauma is my art had excelled even further than it had done so while I studied at college; black charcoal gave way to light and blended shadows, and among all of it, my feelings laid bare and processed on a page.

Today, I wanted to test my newfound speed and ability to shift—on my own—ready for me to meet Lucille on my own terms. In the afternoons, I meditated, setting stronger intentions and boundaries. And during the stillness of the night, when the rest of the house slept, I let Paul make me forget everything else. I didn't begrudge the long summer nights tangled up in our bed sheets together.

Lucille had not visited me again at the cabin near the clearing but I had a gut sense that she knew what I was gearing up for and welcomed it.

Paul had left the solace of our bed early this morning for a pack meeting and had just returned at midday.

"You've caught the sun." I brushed the hair from Paul's forehead and placed a lingering kiss as he sat on the bed beside me. I'd lounged in bed all day, with no other place I needed to be, but my limbs were restless, demanding I make use of them and let them out for a run.

He stroked a finger down my face. "There's not a single person I've ever cared this much about."

The feeling was mutual, and he knew it. Trust speeded up our entire relationship. There were no more secrets; If I asked a question, he answered it. There was no hesitation on his part or mine, and I no longer felt the need to hide my thoughts or keep them from him—an open book for an open book.

"I love you," he whispered. "Wanna know how I know? The thought of you leaving after this terrifies me."

The overwhelming emotion that surged in my chest broke on my face; my grin the widest I'd ever known it. "I love you too—"

A knock sounded on the door, cutting me off before it opened. Jenny stuck her head in before her eyes clamped shut.

"Luke needs you in the truck." She edged one eye open. "Have you guys had sex yet?" Jenny asked. "I gave you a good two-minute head start before I knocked the first time, but no one answered."

Paul's eyes were still illuminated, and for a moment, he wouldn't allow Jenny to intrude on his moment.

He eventually sighed. "Good question." Paul grinned, cupping my ass. "Not so far today."

"Not now..." I warned, but it was useless; I didn't sound convincing even to myself.

The smile Paul gifted me next was devastating. "I love it when you give me boundaries. I immediately want to break them all."

"I'll have to bind your hands in a minute if you don't keep them to yourself."

Paul shot me a fake warning look. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

"Your cousin is uncontrollable," I called back to Jenny. Paul's grin touched each cheek. He'd declared to everyone the night before that I now 'owned his ass,' as he'd put it, and he seemed deliriously content about that.

"Nah, he's happy, is all." Jenny nodded. "But it looks like you're not quite done with the foreplay yet. I'll swing by in a few minutes."

"Ten!" Paul shouted, his hands diving to secure my waist and hoist me onto his lap. The bed dipped further as his mouth latched onto my neck, trailing smoldering kisses down to my collarbone.

"Ten minutes? That's all I get?" My voice was a whisper as I fought to stay coherent against the bombardment of sensations and build of heat Paul was causing.

"That's all you'll need. Big difference." He began to unbutton my shirt."I have no problem proving my stamina right here, right now, with Jenny out there. Double dare me." He inhaled. "There is something extra-other-worldly about the way you smell right now..." He paused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I thought he would have known the answer to this. "Thought you could read my thoughts?" My brows inched up, and I dragged my bottom lip through my teeth.

He rolled his eyes anytime I brought the subject up. "I was trying not to... You blow like the wind. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"Do it. It's a one-time pass."

I pictured in my mind the intense sex we'd had the night before, every piece of exposed skin that he'd placed a feverish kiss on before we abandoned the restrictions of our clothing. As sex went, it was epic, and now I wanted to act on pure impulse again.

Paul's eyes hooded over, and his gaze intensified. "Jenny," he called out. "Go take a walk, a long one, and if you hear either of us screaming—she's fine, I'm more than fine, and don't come running back."

After lunch, Paul and Luke drove back to check on their dad, leaving Carlyle, Jenny, and me standing in the kitchen.

"I'm going for a run. I never got a chance this morning," I announced to Jenny.

She smirked. "Still worked on your cardio, though. Do you want your lunch when you get back?"

The sushi Jenny was making for lunch smelled rotten. I rubbed my stomach. "No thanks, I think I'm coming down with something."

"I'll join you," Carlyle said, grabbing his jacket.

I shrugged, looking between them. "Suit yourself." It would be a good time to put out the feelers and see if Carlyle was up for divulging more about Lucille, the uprising, and my plan to meet with Lucille on my own. Plus, I was looking forward to showing Carlyle the distance I could now go before breaking a sweat. He had taken on the unofficial role of trainer, and I swear he enjoyed the boot camp-style torture regime he put me through, but my stamina had improved ten-fold thanks to him.

Taking the winding trail adjacent to the lake, the sun was already at the midpoint in the sky. Without waiting for Carlyle to catch up, I followed the path, maneuvering around fallen branches. Exercise, I was coming to learn, was one of the best ways to clear and reset my mind for the day ahead of Luke's sessions, where he would require me to release my thoughts.

When the forest broke into a clearing, I took advantage of the extra space and gunned it. The tree line hurtled in my peripheral vision as my legs took on a life of their own, an edge of fear that I might fall, but knowing I had control. For the first time, I ran for myself, not away from someone or toward something, out of pure freedom.

The route I had chosen looped around the dense woods, leading me about three miles away from the cabins before circling back. Each day, I ran past towering trees with leaves on the verge of sensing fall.

"I get it," Carlyle called. "You've been working out."

I grinned, turning back, still moving on the spot to keep momentum.

As I reached the halfway point, my legs burned, and my lungs screamed for air, but I pushed forward. The rhythmic pounding of my feet on the earth drowned out the thoughts buzzing in my head.

"You should slow down," he said. "You pounded that trail harder than I've ever seen you before, now take it easier for the last half mile."

"What do you mean?" I wiped my sleeve on my forehead as it started to dampen. "I can take it."

"It's not good for the baby, is it?" Curious eyes dropped to my stomach, then bounced back up again.

I spluttered a cough and followed his gaze, immediately paranoid that the vacation lifestyle I'd be indulging in may have begun to show. I smoothed a hand down my vest top. No, he'd misunderstood. I was in the best shape of my life.

"Do I look pregnant to you?" Manic laughter followed until I realized he wasn't finding this funny. I paused, coming to a complete stop. "Why would you say that?"

"You said the sushi smelled rotten. Last week, it was the pizza."

"I said no such thing." But despite my protest, my mind traveled back. Had I said that about the pizza? Could Carlyle blame me if I had—Luke had cooked it? I don't remember criticizing his culinary skills that day. That was an open secret we all shared.

He tilted his head to the side, studying me for longer than I was comfortable with. "True, but you did think it, didn't you? Taken a test?"

"No," I implored. "There's no reason to." If there was one thing predictable about being with Paul, it was the ripping of a condom packet. What was his deal, and why was he on my case about something others would deem private?

But as soon as I thought about it, I had my answer. All Carlyle's cards rested with me, only I could end this for him and Lucille, and he'd waited a lifetime to escape."

"Then you can't say for sure," he said.

He was being ridiculous. My periods were clockwork. I checked off the days; the first week here, I'd synced with Jenny, and Paul had to go to the store for all of us. I wasn't late. "I'm due this week. Happy?"

"Shut up and go pee on a stick. Don't you see the monumental problem a pregnancy would have if you are in danger and don't forget the stressors on the body a shift causes when you are new to it."

My heart sank. Carlyle was right. If there was even the remote possibility that I could be, I would need to be much for careful. My words stammered to get out. I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with him, not Paul. This was the real reason he'd wanted to join me today.

"Then we go buy one now. You know the way to the local store through these woods?" he said.

I nodded—like the back of my hand.

We both burst into a sprint and ran for a further ten minutes. Finally, as I rounded the last bend, the small Highstreet grocery store came into view. My path home led me right past its doors, making it an ideal stop to pick up some necessities normally. The store was quaint, with old-fashioned wooden shelves stocked with essentials like milk, bread, and various canned goods. Paul's baseball cap concealed my unruly hair and provided some cover for my face. I slowed my pace to a walk, wiping the sweat from my brow, and stepped inside.

"Morning," Mr. Thompson called out from behind the cash register as I grabbed a carton of milk from the refrigerator case and proceeded to the feminine care aisle.

I nodded with a slight smile, feeling at ease in this simple routine. Carlyle followed behind me as I picked up a carton of milk from the refrigerator case. We didn't go out of our way to talk to anyone, heading multiple warnings from both Paul and Luke. I stopped by the tests, grabbed the first one I saw, and slipped it under my arm.

The bell above the entrance door jingled, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Suddenly, Carlyle's hands grabbed my wrist, yanking me to the corner.

"Don't say a word, Dana." He tugged the cap on my head lower. That's when I felt the familiar warning alarms throughout my body warning me of danger. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him.

Antoine wore his dark hair slicked back, and his sharp jawline and high cheekbones only accentuated his piercing eyes. He scanned the faces in the store for a brief moment. What if he recognized me? I quickly looked away, pretending to examine a display of canned soup.

"Can I help you find something?" Mr. Thompson asked, clearly puzzled by Antoine's presence. The local store close to pack territory rarely saw outsiders I suspected, and I was pretty certain I'd seen Mr. Thompson milling about the cabins near the lake himself.

Mr. Thompson smiled and me and then nodded once, hearing my unspoken question.

"Ah, yes," Antoine replied. "I'm looking for a friend of mine, a young woman with dark curls and eyes to match. She's not from around here. Maybe you've seen her around?"

Out of the corner of my eye, Mr. Thompson shot me a worried glance as Carlyle's grip tightened.

"I know most folk here—that one doesn't ring any bells, son," Mr. Thompson said, stepping out from behind the counter. "Maybe you've been told wrong."

"I might just pick up something for a camping trip I'm taking," Antoine replied.

As he moved further down the aisle, Mr. Thomson followed, and I struggled to keep calm. I clutched the carton of milk tightly, trying to steady my trembling hands. Antoine's eyes swept over the store again, lingering on me for a split second before moving on.

"Ready to check out?" Mr. Thompson asked. I fished some crumpled bills from my pocket, depositing them and the pregnancy test and milk into Carlyle's hand.

My mind raced with thoughts of escape, but I knew running wouldn't solve anything. I needed to take action—I couldn't let Antoine control my life any longer.

Carlyle proceeded to the counter, masking his face by looking anywhere else. Mr. Thompson rang up the items. Panic surged through me, and I grabbed ambled around the aisle back to the fridge and grabbed another milk, just to seem busy.

Antoine followed me around.

"Nice day, isn't it," he said, as casual as someone could be. His eyes appeared to be searching the store.

I nodded, the milk rattling in my hand. Mr. Thompson's eyes bounced to me and back to Antoine. I was sure I could see an amber glint wash over his eyes. The moment Antoine moved past me, my heart stuttered in my chest, and the carton of milk slipped from my trembling fingers, splattering across the floor and soaking my running shoes.

"Oops," I muttered, forcing a weak laugh. "Guess I should've held on tighter."

"Are you alright?" Mr. Thompson asked.

"Yeah," I replied, swallowing hard. "Just clumsy."

"Let me get that cleaned up for you," Mr. Thompson said, grabbing a roll of paper towels.

"Thanks," I whispered, casting a furtive glance at Antoine. He didn't seem to care or notice my mishap—or if he had, he was doing an excellent job of pretending otherwise.

Wiping my sweaty palms on the sides of my shorts, I made my way to the exit. Carlyle held the door wide open. Once outside, I leaned against the glass storefront, contemplating my options. Fleeing would only buy me temporary respite; sooner or later, Antoine would catch up to me. And then what? A shiver rippled down my spine as I imagined the consequences of being caught by him.

"No. Right now, running is the answer, Dana," Carlyle whispered behind me, casually swinging an arm around my shoulder as if we were a couple.

My mind whirled, searching for answers. "But I can't run—not forever," I whispered to him. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the confrontation that was sure to come. As I walked away from the grocery store, each step felt like I was moving in the wrong direction— away from the demons that haunted me because I did want to fight. After weeks of training, I felt ready to take him on.

"There will be a time to fight back. Now isn't it," Carlyle said again. "I've already informed Paul and Luke that Antoine has shown up. There will be extra patrols by the time we get back"

I reluctantly nodded. If there was any chance I was growing a baby in my belly, I needed to be so much smarter than my emotions. The extra patrols would make finding Lucille much more difficult to hide from.

When we arrived back, I snatched the bag from Carlyle and stuffed the contents into my jacket. Shaking my head, I turned away from him, stretched my calf muscles, and continued to pound the trail for way longer than I had planned. Carlyle hung back, tracking me with his eyes.

The pungent reek of Jenny's cooking overwhelmed the house when I arrived back, a mixture of fermenting roadkill and cheap perfume. I paused at the base of the stairs. Was it even possible that Carlyle had been right? Had I become more sensitive to smell?

Taking the stairs, I peeled my sweat-slicked clothes from my body, dumping them on the shower room floor, and stepped under the jet spray. There was a spot on the floor, among my crumpled clothes, that I tried to ignore. Paul was never out for long, and I was desperate for a pee. I was never one for willpower, but at least I could put Carlyle's paranoia to rest.

I towel-dried my hair and bent to pick up the bag. Stripping the packing off the back, my teeth tore at the foil packet inside, and for the first time in my life, I peed on a stick. I sat the test down, leaning forward. My hands masked my face as I waited. I'm not ready to be a mother. Paul would make an awesome dad, but not here, not in Benton. Would he ever leave his father? Is the pack life something I want for my child?

The answer to that question should have been obvious.

An icy chill moved through me at the even bigger problem this presented: Lucille had been chased out of the pack. Luke and Paul said I would be safe. Would my unborn child be? My thoughts predictably landed on Jade who had clung to her mother as if I was the scary monster.

Paul would keep us safe. Maybe, if I said it often enough, I'd start to believe it. I took a deep breath and pretended Paul was sitting beside me. This is stupid. Carlyle had gotten into my head, and this would have Paul laughing or slapping the shit out of him later when I told him.

I picked up the test. The second line was as neon and vibrant as the first. I was pregnant.