The next night, I'm lying on my bed after a long day of training, when Blake's voice comes from outside my bedroom door.

"Clover," he says. One word that I'll never get used to off his tongue. My silver string is especially bright. He must be right outside.

I wait a second for my pulse to get under control before I scramble off my bed and pull the door open.

"Yes?" I ask.

He's dressed up tonight. A black button-up hugs his torso, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is combed back, and my heart does a little stutter at the sight.

His eyes go from my face to my tousled hair, to my messy bed behind me. Self-conscious, I tug the door a little more shut, blocking his view.

"What were you doing?" he asks.

"Just resting," I say.

It's mostly true. I was lying on my bed, letting my muscles rest a bit, but my mind was far from relaxed. All I could think about were those chains and ropes that Blake has hidden away somewhere.

What if, when I transform, I run for the town, like Leyla did? I don't want to hurt anyone.

And that's only if I survive in the first place.

I blink, remembering that Blake is standing right in front of me.

"What do you want?" I ask. I wince, the question coming out harsher than I intended.

"Right." He swallows and his Adam's apple does a little bob in his throat. "I'm leaving."

"Oh!" I exclaim. "Okay."

"Leyla and Thomas are back from patrol," he continues. "They'll make sure you're safe."

I can't help but smile. I doubt I'll need any protection tonight, but I nod anyway. "Got it."

"Alright." He clears his throat and takes a step back.

"Have a good time," I add.

He blinks at me. I guess the words take a second to register, because then he nods wordlessly, though he makes no move to leave.

I stare at him for a moment longer.

"Did you need anything else?" I ask.

His brow furrows, and he blinks again. At his sides, his hands twitch.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "No. Just— Have a good night."

I frown. He's acting a little weird.

"Is everything okay?" I ask.

"What do you mean?" he replies.

I almost have to laugh. It's like no one has ever asked him if he's okay before. Well, whatever's bothering him, he clearly doesn't want to talk about it, so I pivot.

"How's your hand?" I ask.

He lifts his hand cluelessly and opens his fingers. There, on his palm, a scar marks the skin. It looks a lot better than before, with less swelling and bruising, but the skin there is an angry red and it looks irritated.

I hiss through my teeth and hover my hand over his. He flinches, ripping his hand back. I can't help the hurt that flashes through me.

"I'm okay," he says, not meeting my eyes.

I swallow drily and step back. "Right. Okay. Well, see you."

He nods once, still not looking at me, and turns to leave.

When he's gone, I let out a ragged breath. What was that about? My stomach is all twisted in knots, and I realize just how badly I wanted to touch him.

And how badly he didn't want to touch me.

Sighing, I follow a second later, stepping out to the kitchen. Leyla is already there, dressed in a long t-shirt that falls to her knees. She sits at the kitchen table, scrolling through her phone. Her hair is wet, and I can smell the soap on her skin.

"Hey," I say.

She glances up. "Oh! Hey, one sec." She types something quickly, then switches her phone off and faces me. "Sorry, just texting my sister. What's up?"

I lift a brow. "You have a sister?"

"Oh, yeah. She doesn't know about the whole werewolf thing though," she says, chuckling.

"Why does she think you live in a cabin in the woods?" I ask.

"I told her I'm part of some botany program," she says. "Blake made some pretty convincing documents."

"And she was just okay with that?"

Leyla glances away. "Well, it's better than what I was doing before I became a werewolf."

"Oh." My face flushes red. This must be a touchy subject for her. "I'm sorry. I'm being really nosy right now, aren't I?"

She looks back at me and smiles gently. "No, it's okay. I was just a bit lost at the time."

I nod. That's definitely something I can relate to, both metaphorically and literally. When I found myself at the diner that night, I had no idea where I was going next.

"I liked to party a lot, try to escape reality," Leyla explains. She pauses and sucks in a shaky breath. "It was at one of those parties that someone slipped something into my drink. I didn't know they were werewolves at the time..."

"Leyla," I say. I reach across the table and rest a hand on hers. She shakes her head.

"It's okay. I'm happy with where I landed." She looks at me with knowing eyes. "Blake saved me, you know. I know he seems all harsh edges but give him a chance. He's a good guy."

"I know he is," I say. I don't know when I realized it, but somewhere along the way, I did.

I'm glad I met him at the diner that night. I'm glad he bit me. Above all, I'm glad he's my mate.

"Anyway," Leyla says. "What about you? Do you have any siblings?"

I chuckle hollowly. Two faces come to mind. Bianca had two daughters, just as horrible as she was. It wasn't their fault. With Bianca raising them, there was no other way they could turn out.

It's been so long since I've thought of them that it takes me a moment to recall their names.

Kitty, who was my age, made it a mission to torment me at school. Megan was a few years younger. She had her moments. When we first met, I remember how happy I was to get a younger sister.

It didn't take long until her mom rubbed off on her, and she started bossing me around, just like her sister.

"I have two stepsisters," I say finally. "We're not close."

Leyla nods slowly. "Well, I consider you my sister now."

Her words hit me hard. It's like I'm fifteen again, and my dad is telling me I'm getting a new stepmother and sisters. I remember the feeling of hope blossoming in my chest. After so many years of just me and my dad, I was ecstatic to welcome new members to the family—and girls at that.

It may not have worked out the way I expected, but now, years later, I guess I found my sister anyway.

"Leyla," I say, unable to find words for the gratitude I feel. She giggles and I stand, pulling her into a hug.

"Are we hugging?" Thomas asks, stepping through the front door. We step apart and turn towards Thomas. His forehead is slick with sweat, and I figure he's just come in from training. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing important," I say.

He lifts a single brow, then slides into a seat at the table. "Well, you better not keep anything from me. Blake has given me a very special mission tonight, and I plan to make my Alpha proud."

"Oh, really?" I ask. "And what exactly is this special mission?"

"To keep my eye on you," he says, pointing at me.

"Oh, please. What's the worst that can happen?"

"You could sneak out," he says.

I laugh. "And go where? The forest?"

"Or the pack party." I lift my brow. He blinks and covers his mouth. "I've said too much."

"There's a party tonight?" Leyla asks.

He sighs and reluctantly nods. "I overheard Blake talking about it on the phone. The last party for a while, until they find out who's making those tracks in the woods."

"He's stopping the parties?" She whistles lowly. "The pack must not have liked that."

"Must be throwing this one as some kind of a compromise," Thomas says, shrugging. He pauses and narrows his eyes at her. "Not that it matters. We're staying right here where it's safe."

"It's hardly dangerous outside, Thomas," I say, lifting a brow.

"Yeah," Leyla agrees. "I doubt anyone's going to attack when the entire pack is up and ready to pounce."

"And it's not like they've done much attacking so far," I add.

"Maybe they're scared," Leyla says, giggling.

"Alright, enough," Thomas cuts in, unusually serious. "You may think it's overkill, but Blake told me to keep you safe tonight, and that's what I'm going to do. Can you imagine if the Alpha's mate gets hurt on my watch? He'll kill me."

I scoff. "I doubt he'll care that much."

"Oh, he'll care," Thomas says. "Trust me."

I frown. He sure hasn't given off that vibe since I met him. He's been more of a...slightly concerned caretaker. Who I occasionally sleep next to, but that's irrelevant.

I mean, looking back, every time I found myself sleeping next to him, it was me who initiated it. Me who went crawling to him, basically begging to be near him. And he was the one who reluctantly let me in.

Not to mention, he's always tense around me.

"Well," I say. "Have fun keeping guard. I'm going to lie on my bed all night, waiting for my muscles to regenerate."

They both nod and murmur their good nights before I shuffle off to my room and close the door behind me.

It's not like I plan to sleep. It's been almost impossible to sleep lately. With the full moon looming over me, all I can do is stare at the ceiling and think of all the ways it can go wrong.

A minute later, there's a quiet knock on my door.

"Come in!" I shout. The door creaks open and Leyla steps in, shutting the door behind her.

"Hey," she squeaks. "I'm not bothering you, am I?"

I sit up, smiling. "Of course not, what's up?"

"I just wanted to check up on you," she says. "I remember being really anxious around this time of my transformation."

I release a breathy laugh. "Am I that transparent?"

"Well, sometimes you do get this far-off look in your eye."

I warm. "Do I really?"

She laughs, shrugging. "I mean, we haven't exactly painted the prettiest picture, have we?"

"I appreciate having a realistic idea," I say honestly.

If I close my eyes, I can imagine it all: my bones snapping and muscles stretching, my senses heightening and the world becoming... I don't know. Overwhelming, with too many noises, too many scents, too much everything.

The image helps me stay focused during the tough training sessions and the boring meditation that Leyla makes me do. Without it, I'd probably slack off, spend my days sleeping and using way too much water in the shower.

I appreciate the reminder of what will happen if I don't give my all, but still—it's a grotesque image.

And at night, when the moon creeps into my windowpane, it haunts me

I turn to Leyla and pat the mattress beside me. She smiles and moves closer, taking a seat on the bed.

"What was it like?" I ask. "Your transformation. Be honest."

She blinks at me for a moment, then glances away, like recalling the memory.

"It was almost two years ago," she says. "But I remember it so clearly. The pain. My bones cracking. I kept my eyes shut the entire time, but I could feel it all. It was like some invisible force, pulling my limbs, forcing them into shape. It was all a blur."

"That sounds painful," I murmur.

"Well, I wasn't as prepared as you are," she says gently. "I was pretty injured from my...bite. Both physically and mentally. And Blake didn't know how to help. The pack didn't want to help either. I'm lucky I survived."

"Well, I'm glad you did," I say.

She smiles. A moment passes, and her eyes grow wide. "I have an idea."

"Huh?"

She stands, grinning, and tilts her head, like listening for something. When she speaks, her voice is a whisper. "We need to be very quiet."

"Why?" I ask.

She shushes me. "Quieter!"

"Why?" I repeat, my voice barely audible.

"Thomas is in the shower, but he still might hear us," she explains, whispering. "Let's go to that party."

"What?" I exclaim.

"Shh!"

"Are you crazy?" I whisper.

"Come on, it'll be fun."

I glance around nervously, like Thomas or Blake could pop up at any minute and catch us conspiring. "I thought you gave up partying."

"I never said that," she says, smirking. "Partying is good in moderation. Especially werewolf parties. It'll get your mind off the full moon."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure. We won't be gone long. Thomas probably won't even notice we left."

"What if Blake sees us there?" I whisper.

She scoffs. "He never goes to pack parties. Come on, get dressed."

I frown but stand and follow her lead. She pulls open my wardrobe, filled with a mismatch of her clothes and whatever Blake has found for me in the past few weeks of me staying here.

"And the pack won't be mad or anything?" I whisper.

"They've been at it for hours now. They'll be too drunk to notice." She shakes her head, giggling. "Werewolves are party animals. You'll see. Here, try this on."

She hands me a pair of denim shorts which I tug on. They're a bit baggy, falling to my hips, but at least they stay up. I look down at my outfit. Too-large shorts, and a loose t-shirt.

"Is this really okay?"

She smiles slyly, in a way that almost worries me. "It's more than okay. Trust me."

She grabs a sundress, I'm assuming for herself, and turns to my bed. She gets to work quickly, shoving my pillows under my blanket to make it look like someone is sleeping in it.

"How many times have you done this?" I ask, concerned.

"Before I was a werewolf, this was my life," she says, laughing.

I can barely believe it. Sweet little Leyla, sneaking out of the house.

"Come on, before Thomas gets out of the shower," she whispers.

We flick the lights off and she heaves a window open. She slides through the open window, landing on the grass outside.

I frown, trying to mimic her movements, but she's stealthier than I am. My foot catches on the windowsill, and I gasp, staggering out of the cabin.

Leyla tries to catch me, but I roll out of her arms and onto the grass. She covers her smile with a hand, using the other to pull me to my feet.

"You okay?" she asks. I nod and she closes the window, leaving it open just an inch for us to get back in later. "Come on!"

We're barefoot, I realize, but it's too late to go back for shoes. I follow her as she sprints towards the tree line.

Even in her human form, she's faster than I am. By the time we reach the cover of the trees, I'm reminded how out of shape I am—how unprepared I am for the full moon.

"Okay," Leyla says, not even a little out of breath. "I'm going to shift now. You climb on my back, and hold this—"

She tosses me the sundress. I frown, remembering her wolf form. She wasn't as big as the others, and even though I've lost weight from living on the streets, I've always been quite tall.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

She nods. "It'll be fine. You'll see."

She inhales deeply, then in a flash, shifts into a wolf in front of me. Despite being smaller than the others, she's still a wolf and it's a struggle to climb onto her back.

I heave myself onto her, her sundress bunched in my hand, and grip her fur. She turns her head, checking if I'm on.

"Alright," I say uneasily. "I think I'm ready."

She yips once, and then together, we take off into the forest.