POV Blake
Zack suggests we head back to the pack house together, and I agree with a smile that feels natural—because it is.
As we walk side by side through the trees, his tone stays light, full of idle talk about patrol shifts and minor border tensions. No hint of suspicion lingers in his voice, no sideways glances or probing pauses.
And that’s the real win.
I did it again. Slipped into Amelia’s skin so well that even Zack, the ever-watchful Beta, didn’t catch a crack. I laugh at his joke, nod at his comments, and inside I’m practically glowing.
Because for now, I’m still safe. For now, I’m still her.
"Three breaches this week," he's saying, hands gesturing like he's mapping the territory in the air. "No scent trails, no witnesses. It's like ghosts are fucking with our borders."
"Ghosts with boundary issues," I offer. "The worst kind."
"Right?” He snorts. “At least regular ghosts stay in their haunted houses. These ones are territorial nightmares."
The irony of discussing territorial violations while being a walking violation myself isn't lost on me.
I'm basically a human-shaped breach of trust in baggy jeans.
We round the corner to the central courtyard, and there's Matthias looking like a GQ werewolf edition. The afternoon sun hits him just right, and my ovaries stage their daily revolt.
Down, girls. We're living a lie, remember?
"There you are," he says, eyes doing that quick scan thing to make sure I'm intact.
Ever since the garden incident, he's been monitoring me like I'm a flight risk. Which, fair.
"Zack was just telling me about our ghost problem," I say, then turn to Beta. "You should join us for lunch. I promise not to burn any courses."
Too soon? Probably. But Zack actually cracks a smile.
"Thanks, Luna, but—"
"Come on," Matthias jumps in, slinging an arm around his beta's shoulders. "When's the last time you ate something that wasn't consumed while reading patrol reports?"
"This morning," Zack defends. "I had a whole bagel. With cream cheese."
"Revolutionary," I deadpan. "Next you'll tell us you used both hands."
Zack's fighting a grin now, but he's already extracting himself from Matthias's octopus grip.
"Seriously, I can't. The Riverside situation needs attention, and someone has to prep for tomorrow's council meeting."
"That someone being you," Matthias sighs.
"The curse of competence." Zack gives me a little salute. "Enjoy your ghost-free lunch, Luna."
As he disappears into the pack house, I watch him go with something dangerously close to fondness.
"He's a good people."
"The best," Matthias agrees, pulling me against his side like it's his default setting now. "Want to hear about the time he saved my ass from getting disowned?"
"Obviously."
We settled at our usual seats next to each other at the table—and when did I start having anything usual here?—and Matthias launches into stories that paint a picture I didn't expect.
"Picture this: twelve-year-old Zack, approximately four feet tall, drowning in hand-me-down clothes, always carrying three books minimum. The kid was allergic to sports and conversations. Meanwhile, I was setting things on fire and calling it 'experimenting with pack dynamics.'"
"So you were always a menace."
"Reformed menace," he corrects. "Zack used to do my homework in exchange for protection from the older pups. Except I was shit at protection and he was brilliant at everything, so really he was carrying my academically challenged ass."
The image of tiny Matthias and tinier Zack navigating pack politics makes my chest do weird things. "When did it change?"
"His first shift." Matthias's eyes go distant with memory. "Nobody expected much—quiet kid, omega parents, late bloomer. Then boom. This massive brown wolf appears, radiating power like a small nuclear reactor. Suddenly everyone who'd ignored him wanted to be best friends."
"But he stuck with you."
"He stuck with me." The pride in his voice could power small cities. "Been my right hand ever since. Never questioned, never wavered. Even when I made questionable calls."
Like marrying a stranger who turned out to be the wrong sister? But I keep that observation to myself.
Matthias turns to me, eyes going soft in that way that makes me forget how to breathe. "That's what I want for us… Amelia."
My heart stutters, but I catch myself before reacting. "You really think we could have that?"
He doesn't seem to notice the tightness in my voice—just pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple that feels like a brand.
"That kind of trust. That partnership. I've never felt this connected to anyone before. Give it time, and we'll be unstoppable."
And I nod. Because at this moment, I almost believe it too.
The sincerity in his voice is a knife between my ribs. He's painting futures I'll never see, making promises to a ghost. The guilt is so heavy I might drown in it.
"Matthias, I—"
The pain hits like a lightning strike.
Every bone in my body decides to rebel simultaneously, twisting and pulling like they're trying to escape my skin. My consciousness gives out, vision going white around the edges, and I hear myself scream—or maybe that's just internal—and then I'm falling.
Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground, Matthias's voice sounds far away, urgent and scared.
"Amelia! What's wrong? Talk to me!"
But I can't process that because my skeleton is apparently trying to exit through my pores.
The last coherent thought I have before everything goes dark is spectacularly unhelpful: Well, fuck.