The afternoon air is cool for summer, the kind that carries just enough breeze to rustle leaves and brush against bare skin. Sunlight spills between buildings as we walk down the street, the town alive with quiet chatter and the soft hum of passing cars.
It doesn't take long before we find what Samantha is looking for.
Actually—what Samantha is looking for finds her.
The moment we step near the first herbal shop, I feel it. Her pace slows, then stops entirely. Her eyes light up, healer instincts flaring so brightly it's almost visible.
"Oh—this place," she breathes, already drifting toward the door.
And that's how it starts.
Three shops later, Samantha is moving between shelves like a child on Christmas morning, fingertips brushing jars and bundles, eyes scanning labels with reverence. Dried leaves, roots, crushed petals, glass jars filled with powders in every shade of green and brown. Incense burns softly in the corners, thick and earthy, clinging to our clothes and hair.
Melanie, Cameran, and I exchange a look.
We are so tired of smelling like incense.
"Oh! This is Boswellia!" Sam says suddenly, holding up a small jar like she's uncovered treasure. "It's amazing for inflammation."
She looks so proud of herself it makes my lips twitch.
Cameran snorts, glancing at Melanie and then back at Sam. "Where was this excitement when we were looking for clothes?"
"Clothes?!" Melanie blurts out far too fast. "I'll go to a clothing store!"
We all laugh.
"Oh, stop it," Sam says defensively, though she's smiling. "I only dragged you into a couple stores for a few minutes. You both had me shopping for hours."
"Honey," Cam says sweetly, looping an arm around Melanie, "I hate to break it to you, but it's been three hours."
She leans in conspiratorially. "Three hours of us smelling burnt grass."
Sam freezes.
"Three hours?" Her eyes widen. "We have to get back. I have to check on—"
"He's fine," I cut in gently. "Still sleeping. Callen just mind-linked me. The healer checked him over again—everything looks good. He's just resting."
Relief washes over her face instantly, tension melting from her shoulders. She looks at me and gives a soft, thankful smile that makes my chest ache a little.
"Is Enoch outside?" she asks.
"Yeah," Cam answers. "He couldn't stop sneezing." She scrunches her nose dramatically and waves her hand through the air. "All this fragrance."
We laugh again.
After paying for what feels like half the store's inventory, we step back outside into the fresh air. Sam inhales deeply, smiling, bags clutched to her chest as if they're priceless.
We stroll down the sidewalk toward the car, the late sun casting long shadows—
"Oh! Look, another one!"
All three of us groan in unison.
"Oh no," Cam says flatly.
"Okay," she adds quickly, pointing a finger at Sam, "you have twenty minutes to get your geek on. Or I swear on the Moon Goddess—Queen or not—I'm dragging you out by the hair."
Sam giggles, already backing toward the door. "Deal!"
She disappears inside.
I shake my head, smiling to myself.
"You guys must be close," Melanie says quietly. "I've never met a monarch—scratch that, an Alpha—let alone anyone who could be spoken to like that."
Cam's expression softens, pride shining through.
"Sam is…" I trail off, searching for the right word.
Smiling, I finish, "Different."
"Yeah," Cam agrees easily. "She is. If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have survived what happened with my mom. My dad shut down completely. All I had was Samantha." Her voice lowers. "She's everything."
We sit on a nearby bench while Enoch stands a short distance away, alert but relaxed, eyes scanning the street. For a moment, a comfortable silence settles over us.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels… good.
Normal.
Peaceful.
Then Cameran stiffens.
Cam doesn't even have to say the name for my wolf to react.
Something ugly coils low in my stomach, a warning prickle along my spine that has nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with recognition. Threat recognizes intent. And whatever Seraphina is carrying with her as she struts down the sidewalk—it isn't just arrogance. It's purpose.
Roxy laughs at something she says, sharp and too loud, the sound carrying across the street. She hasn't seen us yet. Or maybe she has and just doesn't care. Designer bags swing from her wrist like trophies, her posture loose, careless. Seraphina, though—she's different. Her gaze is already scanning, calculating, hungry. Like she's searching for something to conquer.
My thoughts race ahead, already mapping exits, already imagining how fast this could escalate. Public place. Too many civilians. Too many pack members who would feel Sam the second her emotions spike. One wrong word, one insult thrown too far, and this street turns into a battlefield of submission and awe.
I swallow hard.
My wolf presses closer to the surface, muscles tightening under my skin, not snarling but bracing. Protect. Guard. Shield. The urge is so strong it almost knocks the breath from my lungs. This isn't about pride. This is about territory. About Sam.
"We should get her," I murmur, eyes flicking toward the herbal shop. "Now. Before—"
"Before Seraphina opens her mouth?" Cam finishes flatly. "Yeah. That's the idea."
Enoch shifts his stance subtly, placing himself half a step closer to where Samantha will emerge. Casual to anyone watching. Defensive to anyone who knows how warriors move. Melanie's fingers curl in the fabric of her sleeve, tension bleeding into every line of her body.
The street suddenly feels too small. Too exposed.
Too many pack members wandering nearby. Too many eyes. Too many potential sparks near dry grass.
And the worst part?
Sam doesn't know yet.
She's inside, happy, distracted, gathering herbs with gentle hands—while outside, a storm with her name on it is walking straight toward us.
If we don't get her out of here, I think grimly, this won't just be ugly. It'll be historic.
Cam plants a hand on her hip, head tilting, pure, unfiltered sass radiating off her.
"The fucking bitch witch herself," she says sweetly.
A pause.
"Seraphina."