The layout of the Beast was intimate, a carefully designed puzzle where every inch served a purpose. There was no door to the sleeping area; the bed simply transitioned into the seating area, with the kitchenette facing the lounge. On the same side as the stove and sink, tucked behind a partition wall at the very back, was the compact bathroom and shower. It was a setup that meant when we were in here, we were truly in it together.
The morning air in the bus was heavy with the rich, dark scent of the coffee I’d just started. My first move, even before the caffeine hit my system, was to crack open two cans of the “good stuff” for Smudgie and Emmy. They ate with a synchronized intensity, and the second their bowls were clean, they didn’t look for a sunbeam. They scrambled right back onto the bed, burrowing into the blankets around Amara. Their presence seemed to be the only thing keeping the nightmares at bay for the little girl.
It was their movement that finally nudged Stormy out of the bed. He stepped into the narrow walkway, his massive frame nearly touching both sides of the bus. He looked at the cats, then at me, his eyes softening as he took in the quiet domesticity.
Just as the coffee finished hissing, a soft, rhythmic knock sounded on the metal door. I opened it to find GGstanding there, looking a little worn around the eyes but carrying a tray of warm, golden-brown muffins that smelled like cinnamon and comfort.
“I figured the Beast needed a delivery,” she whispered, stepping inside. She took one look at the lump of blankets where Amara was buried with the cats and gave me a knowing, watery smile. “Knight’s with the council. They’re already grumbling, Roni. They think a weak link like Rachael is a liability.”
“Let them grumble,” I said, handing her a mug. We sat at the small dinette, the IBM ThinkPad glowing between us like a third member of the meeting. “I’ve already contacted some friends in California. I’m getting Rachael into a detox center. It’s handled.”
GG nodded, but her eyes darted to the glowing screen of the IBM ThinkPad. “And Rachael? Does she even know she has a choice left to make?”
“She knows,” I said, my thumb tracing the rim of my mug. “Because I told her.”
________
My mind flashed back to an hour ago, before the sun had even cleared the tree line. I’d stepped outside the Beast into the damp morning air, a cold breeze cutting through my sweatshirt as I dialed the direct line to the ICU room at the county hospital.
When Rachael answered, her voice had been a fragile, sand-papered whisper, stripped raw by the poison they’d systematically used to keep her under their thumb. She sounded like a ghost haunting her own ribcage.
“Veronica?” she’d rasped, panic instantly spiking her breath. “Where’s Amara? Did they—is she—”
“Amara is breathing clean air, Rachael. She’s safe. She’s asleep right now on my bed, buried under two very spoiled cats,” I’d told her, my voice dropping into that steady, unyielding tone I used when the world was catching fire around me.
A choked sob came through the receiver, the sound fragile and broken. “They’ll take her from me… I’m a mess, Luna… I can’t… the cravings, they’re like bugs under my skin…”
“Listen to me,” I interrupted, leaning my forehead against the cool metal siding of the bus, letting that Ohio grit anchor me. “I have a friend in California. A real one. She runs a top-tier, completely locked-down detox center, and I already bought you a ticket. There is a bed with your name on it waiting the second the hospital clears you. You go, you sweat out that poison, and you learn how to stand on your own two feet again. You don’t have to worry about anything else right now.”
“But Amara—”
“Amara stays with me,” I said, leaving zero room for argument, keeping my voice steady so she could lean on my strength. “Stormy and I have a whole pack behind us, and we will keep her safe. No one is touching your daughter, Rachael. I promise you that.”
There had been a long silence on the line, just the faint beep of hospital monitors three towns over. Then, a shuddering exhaled breath.
“Thank you, Luna Veronica… Thank you. Just keep her safe.”
“I’d burn the world down before anyone hurts her again,” I whispered. “Now get some rest.”
_____
I snapped back to the present, taking a long sip of the dark roast as I looked back at GG. “She’s taking the bed in California. By the time the council opens their mouths, she’ll be on her way to healing. But while she’s there, I need you to help me set up a place in the big house for Amara. I want it to be right near our room, GG. I want her to wake up and hear people who love her.”
GG nodded, pulling out a small notebook. “I’ll get the Omegas to help move the smaller daybed into the sitting room next to yours and Stormy’s master suite. We’ll make it a fortress of ruffles and cat toys.”
I looked at her, my emotions feeling steady because I had her in my corner. “Good. And GG? Keep your ears open. I want to know exactly who is talking about liabilities so I can have a very specific conversation with them at the ceremony.”
Stormy set his coffee down and stepped toward us, his hands finding my waist as he stood behind my chair. He looked at the screen, then at the two of us—the Luna and her Beta—plotting the future over muffins and caffeine. A flicker of something like awe crossed his face.
“You really aren’t like any Luna this pack has ever seen before, are you, my Moon Shadow?”
“I told you, wolfie,” I whispered, leaning my head back against his chest. “I don’t just stand there. I fix things. And with GG by my side, we’re going to fix this pack from the inside out.”
A small, sleepy yawn came from the bed. Amara was sitting up, the faux-cat ears of her robe flopping over her eyes. She looked at the three of us, then at the muffins, and reached out her arms.
I took her, burying my face in her neck. “The ceremony is in three days,” I said, looking from GG to Stormy. “Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”