Chapter 11: The Lab

Conrad strolled toward us through the ferns with his hands in his pockets.

"Poachers," he said pleasantly. "Dreadful. I heard shots from the road and came as fast as I could."

"Poachers don't carry silver rounds," Rhys said.

He was on his feet, with one hand on my shoulder and the other bare at his side.

The hole in his shirt was still there, but the skin under it was clean.

Conrad looked at the bare shoulder for a long second.

Something moved behind his eyes, and I heard his heart stumble for the first time.

"Your wound is healing very quickly," he said.

"I have a good doctor."

"I'm sure." His gaze came back to me. "Willa, come home. Your mother is sick with worry."

"My mother texts me to take my pills."

"Because she loves you."

"Because you pay her to."

He sighed and shook his head, and for once I did not feel the pull of that sigh.

"You were always dramatic," he said. "Think about what you're doing. Think about what the pack will do to a girl who sleeps with an engaged Alpha."

"The pack can ask me in person."

"They will."

He turned to leave.

Over his shoulder he said, "The wedding is in four months, Rhys. I would hate for anything to happen before then."

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