Chapter 1
HADLEY
Rory is twenty minutes late.
Twenty.
Entire.
Minutes.
I’m leaving tomorrow and my best friend has kept me sitting on this fence overlooking the north pasture for twenty minutes, long enough for the sun to shift across the fields and long enough to consider stabbing her.
Not literally.
Probably not.
The jury is still out.
A horse lifts its head from the grass below, stares at me for a moment, then goes back to grazing.
Even the horse thinks Rory is late.
I check my phone again.
Nothing. No text. No excuse.
No dramatic explanation involving a flat tire, a boy, a kidnapping, or a sudden medical emergency.
Just silence.
Typical.
Annoying.
I’m here left alone with my internal panic.
Not completely alone, I guess.
There is a horse.
A breeze moves through the trees surrounding the pasture, carrying the familiar scent of pine, earth, and sun-warmed grass. I’ve spent my entire life here. Every trail. Every field. Every stretch of forest.
Tomorrow I leave it.
The thought arrives quietly this time.
Not like the panic attack it was at three o’clock this morning when sleep apparently decided to abandon me and favor my arranged political fucking marriage instead.
Just a fact.
Tomorrow I leave Silver Hollow.
Tomorrow I leave my pack.
Tomorrow I leave home.
I hate that word now.
Home.
It makes everything sound far more emotional than I want it to.
I’m only moving. People move all the time.
People survive it.
People don’t sit dramatically on fences staring dramatically at a horse and across pastures while contemplating their existence.
At least most people don’t. I dont think so at least.
My wolf is quiet. I can hardly feel her.
She’s not happy. I don’t blame her.
I’m not happy either. But what exactly are we supposed to do about it?
Refuse?
Run away?
Start a war?
My father has made it very clear that marrying Asher Kane is my only option.
Not just for me.
For the pack.
I stare harder at the poor horse.
A month from now I’ll be married. The thought still feels ridiculous.
Not because of Asher. I actually like Asher. At least from what I know of him. Not to brag, but I did meet him a whole two fucking times.
But liking someone and marrying them feel like two very different things. Especially when the decision was made years before either of us got a vote.
Apparently that’s how political alliances work. The people making them never seem to be the ones getting married.
My father says this alliance is necessary.
Important. That word too.
Necessary and important. For peace. For our future.
For the pack.
A lot of things are apparently for the pack lately.
The alternative, according to every Alpha involved, is worse.
And considering one of those Alphas is Clayton Wilder, the man who conquered every territory surrounding his, I’m inclined to believe them.
Clayton Wilder
The Alpha of BlackRidge.
The Black Wolf.
Even the name sounds ridiculous.
Like something a mother would make up to scare her children into behaving.
Except mothers actually do. People tell stories about Clayton Wilder like he’s the boogeyman.
Maybe he is.
Except he’s real.
And unlike me, my father has actually met him. I still remember the look on his face after he came home from those negotiations.
Relieved.
That’s the part that sticks with me. My father is many things. Relieved is rarely one of them. He looked relieved to give his daughter away to The Black Wolf’s beta.
Like I was a treaty.
Not a girl.
Like I was the only thing keeping our packs from tearing each other apart.
Because I guess I am.
And the worst part is, if we actually went to war with BlackRidge, we would lose. We all know that.
The Black Wolf has never been defeated. They have the numbers. They have the power. They have Clayton.
And now they have me.
The sound of an approaching truck drifts up from the road below.
Finally.
I look toward the gate just as Rory’s truck appears between the trees.
Relief immediately loosens something in my chest.
Twenty minutes late. Unbelievable.
I look at the horse and shake my head.
Rory parks beside the pasture gate and climbs out like she isn’t twenty minutes late.
No apology. No excuse. Nothing.
A bold strategy.
The audacity is honestly impressive.
I watch her make her way toward the fence.
“You know,” I call, “there are clocks now.”
“I’ve heard the rumors.”
“They’re becoming very popular.”
“So is minding your own business.”
I roll my eyes as she climbs up beside me.
For a while neither of us says anything.
The horse keeps grazing. The wind keeps blowing.
The world continues moving forward despite the fact that I’d really prefer if it didn’t.
Rory follows my gaze across the pasture. “You’ve been sitting here brooding, haven’t you?”
“I don’t brood.”
“You absolutely brood.”
“I reflect.”
“That’s just brooding with better marketing.”
Unfortunately, she has a point. I hate when she does that.
Which is often.
The silence settles again. It’s familiar though. I guess twenty years of friendship has a way of making the silence feel easy.
Rory pulls a piece of grass from the fence post and twists it between her fingers. “You know this is ruining my retirement plan.”
I glance at her. “You’re twenty-two.”
“Exactly.” She gestures toward me. “I was planning to freeload off you forever.”
I laugh despite myself. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The guilt.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You absolutely do.”
Rory bumps her shoulder against mine, a stupidly familiar gesture. One she’s done for years. One that suddenly makes tomorrow feel a lot closer.
The smile slips before I can stop it. Rory notices.
Of course she does. She notices everything. “You’re doing it again.”
I sigh. “What now?”
“You keep thinking about the wedding.”
“Well, fucking obviously.” Why wouldn’t I be? She’s not the one marrying Asher Kane in a month.
“No.”
I turn toward her. “No?”
She shakes her head. “You’re thinking about the wedding because you don’t want to talk about the actual problem.”
I already know where this is going. And I don’t like it. “The wedding is the actual problem, Rory.”
She raises her eyebrow and now I know she’s about to hit home. “The wedding is in four weeks.”
I look away. It’s cowardly. I dont care.
She notices that too. “The actual problem is tomorrow.”
Damn it.
The wind moves through the trees and neither of us says anything.
Because she’s right. Of course she’s right.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow I leave Silver Hollow.
Tomorrow I leave my father.
Tomorrow I leave this pasture.
This fence.
This view.
The fucking horse that’s now looking at me like it pities me.
Tomorrow I leave the life I’ve spent twenty-two years building.
“I don’t want you to go.” Rory’s voice is quieter when she speaks again. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”
The words hit me so hard it actually pisses me off.
Because that’s my line. That’s what I’m supposed to be thinking.
Not her.
I stare out across the fields. “You’ll be fine.”
Rory snorts. “That’s not convincing when your voice does that.”
“My voice isn’t doing anything.”
“It’s doing a lot, actually.”
A laugh escapes me. It’s small. It’s broken around the edges.
Rory smiles. Then she looks back out over the pasture. “I hate this.”
The honesty of it sits between us. No joke. No sarcasm. Just the truth.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Yeah.” She nods.
And for the first time, neither of us tries to pretend otherwise. Neither of us says much after that. Because what is there to say?
The horse keeps grazing.
The wind keeps moving through the trees.
Tomorrow keeps coming.
