“I made you something.” She shoved something into my hands.
The fabric was black, soft, and smelled faintly of paint. I unfolded it and found an image of the lead character from
Nocturnal Hearts, distorted into overlapping shapes and surrounded by splashes of electric pink, blue, and violet. The figure’s hair dissolved into crows and flower petals, while the funeral home rose behind her in warped lines.
It was gorgeous. “Patty.”
Her confidence disappeared immediately. “You hate it.”
“I love it.” I held the shirt against my chest. “This is incredible. You made this for me?”
She relaxed a little. “I’d already started the design, but after you said the adaptation misunderstood her entire emotional arc, I knew you deserved the first one.”
“That movie did misunderstand her.”
“I know.”
“They made her emotionally detached.”
“She was grieving.”
“And the groundskeeper – “
“Was obviously the better choice,” she said.
We stared at each other for a beat, then started talking at the same time. Five minutes later, we were debating the third volume of the series with enough intensity that I forgot everyone around me, including Patty, could turn into wolves.
That was probably why Patty and I worked. She gave no space for fear to grow.
We crossed the lawn toward the hall. When a child ran between us carrying a water gun, Patty caught him by the shoulders and redirected him without pausing her argument. As soon as we reached the porch, an elderly woman in a purple blouse stepped directly into our path.
Grandma Ruth.
She looked exactly like her icon in the group chat, except she wasn’t wielding a wooden spoon.
“Sloane.” There was no question in her greeting. She took my face between both hands.
My entire body went rigid.
Grandma Ruth turned my head left, then right, inspecting me. “You’ve gotten thin.”
“That’s a warm welcome,” Patty said.
“It’s just an observation.” Grandma Ruth continued examining me.
My heart thudded in my throat. Up close, there was no possible way I resembled the real Loany. Even if memory had softened details over eight years, surely somebody would notice that I had an entirely different face.
“And your hair is much lighter,” Grandma Ruth said, taking my chin between her surprisingly firm fingers.
Before I could offer my rehearsed line about letting the dye grow out, she leaned in, tilting her head. She took a deep, audible breath right at the crook of my neck. Her nostrils flared, drawing in air with the rhythmic intensity of a bloodhound tracking an escaped convict.
I stiffened. I stopped breathing entirely, my lungs burning as I clamped my jaws shut.
Please, God, don’t let her detect that I’m a human. Please let all the attempts I made to cover my scent hold up in a court of law.
She flared her nostrils one last time, let out a loud, disappointed huff, and straightened up. “You smell like a hardware store after a chemical spill, girl. What kind of soap are they selling you in the city?”
“It’s… holistic,” I managed, swallowing down a wave of pure terror.
Just then, Hilary Blackwell approached with Julie beside her.
Hilary was imposing without trying. She wore dark jeans and a gray sleeveless top, her gray-streaked hair closely cropped at the sides. There was no visible marker identifying her as alpha, but people made room when she moved to allow her through, and conversations near her quieted in her presence.
Based on my research, the alpha was the ultimate authority figure, keeping order and defending their pack from any outside threats. Hilary definitely had the alpha vibe going for her if that was true. The definition also explained Hudson’s role within the pack. When he told me he was the future alpha, I’d thought he was joking about his masculinity. He hadn’t been.
Julie looked exactly like her profile picture suggested: blonde, polished, and utterly feminine in light pink.
Hilary held out her hand. “Sloane.”
I shook it. Her grip was firm, and her gaze remained on mine long enough that I wondered whether alphas could detect lies through skin contact.
Another concern I should have researched.
“It’s good to have you back,” Hilary said.
“Thank you.”
“You’ve been gone a long time,” she added.
“I have.”
“Any plans to stay in the area?” she asked.
Patty stepped in before I could answer. “She just arrived. Give her ten minutes before assigning property.”
Julie hugged me, surrounding me in a cloud of expensive perfume and warmth. “We’re so happy you came. I’ve wanted to thank you in person for helping Byron with his math.”
“He probably didn’t need much help.”
Julie studied the shirt I was holding. “Oh, Patty, that turned out beautifully.”
Patty smirked playfully. “Thank you for recognizing my artistic abilities.”
“I said it was beautiful when you showed me yesterday,” Julie said.
“Yes, but now Sloane likes it, which validates me professionally.”
Patty led me deeper into the hall.
It was bigger on the inside than it looked from outside. The main room had a high, timbered ceiling and a stone fireplace rising nearly two stories. Family photographs covered one wall, showing decades of weddings, reunions, children, graduations, and people standing beside vehicles that probably no longer existed.
Long wooden tables laden with food and decorations filled the room. The commercial kitchen occupied the rear wall, where several people moved between industrial ovens, prep counters, and an enormous refrigerator.
“This place is amazing,” I said.
Patty glanced around. “I forget other families don’t have one.”
“Most families struggle to agree on a restaurant for Thanksgiving,” I pointed out.
A teenage boy approached carrying a stack of plates. Byron. I recognized him immediately from his transformation video, which was an unusual way to know someone’s face.
He looked at me with open curiosity. “Sloane?”
“Yes. Hi, Byron.”
He shifted the plates against his chest. “I confirmed your algebra solution from yesterday.”
“I’m relieved.”
He nodded. “It was efficient.”
“That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about my math.”
He frowned as he considered that. “It shouldn’t be.”
Before I could decide whether that was encouragement, another boy appeared behind him. He studied me for a moment. “You’re shorter than I expected.”
“Jason,” Patty warned.
Ahh. This was Jason.
He was younger, leaner, and carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who’d never doubted his ability to win an argument or physical altercation.
A small boy stood several feet behind them, watching quietly. He held a sketchbook against his chest and stayed close enough to Julie that his shoulder touched her arm when she passed.
Caldwell.
I smiled at him. “Hi, Caldwell.”
He didn’t answer, but his gaze moved to the shirt in my hand.
“Patty made it,” I said.
He nodded slowly.
“Do you like
Nocturnal Hearts
?”
Another nod.
Patty looked surprised. “You’ve never told me that.”
Caldwell shrugged one shoulder.
“Traitor,” she said with a grin.
He smiled.
The interaction lasted only a few seconds before the room shifted around us and someone called Julie into the kitchen. Caldwell moved with her without hesitation.
Patty touched my arm. “He gets overwhelmed, especially in big crowds.”
“I understand how he feels,” I said.
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