My bags were still warm from the car engine. That's the stupid thing I kept thinking about. The plastic handles were warm. From where they sat in the trunk. And he handed me over like spare change. Just like that. Five years. Five years I bled into his pack. I stood next to him while he built his little empire and nodded at all the right people and kept his shirts ironed and listened to him talk about alliances. Five years of sleeping in his bed and he packed me in a suitcase because some alliance mattered more. He didn't even carry the bags. He just set them down in the mud. In enemy territory. Actual mud. It sucked at my shoes. And said, "This is her." Like I was a thing. A delivery. The other pack's guards just stared. And he walked away. Without looking back. Not once. His shoes making that soft sound on wet ground and then the car door slammed and he was gone. My teeth were clicking. Literally clicking. I was shaking so hard I couldn't stop it. I kept thinking if I clenched my jaw harder it would stop but it didn't. He thought I'd break. He thought I'd stay broken right there in that mud. Just sit down and cry into my warm bags. He didn't check the arithmetic. Idiot. He never could add right. Always needed me to do his books. They call the new Alpha a monster. Everyone whispers it. Rips throats out before breakfast, doesn't blink, whatever. The kind of story you tell pups to make them behave. And I was standing in his mud, in his territory, with my suitcase handles still warm and getting cold now, getting cold fast. The door to the big house opened. Big. Like way too big for a house in the middle of nowhere. And he came out. I had seen pictures. Sort of. Blur of a man in the back of meeting photos. But in person he was - he was just big. Shoulders wide and his t-shirt was dark grey and I could see it was wet at the edges from the rain. And his eyes. God. His eyes didn't move. Everyone is terrified of him. And I should have been too. My knees were doing that wobbly thing. But he looked at me standing in the wreckage of my old life. In the mud with my bags. And he didn't see a burden. That was the weird part. I expected pity or disgust or like - oh, another one. He saw something else. I don't know. A weapon? A ghost? The blurb in my head says he saw a ghost that looked like vengeance enough to keep him warm. Which is stupid but also - yeah. Maybe. "You're cold," he said. That was it. First thing he said to me. Not who are you, not what are you doing here. You're cold. My hands were red. I hadn't noticed. The itch of wet wool from my sweater was driving me crazy. The cuffs were soaked and scratching my wrists. "I'm fine," I said. My voice cracked. So much for sounding tough. He walked right up to me. Didn't ask. He just took the heavier bag. The one with the broken zipper. He picked it up like it was nothing. "I'm not," I said again, louder this time. "I'm not fine. He just - he traded me. Like I was nothing. Five years and -" "I know," he cut in. He didn't interrupt rude. Just quiet. "I know who you are. And I know what he did." He knew my name. He said it. "Elena." No one had said my name like that in a long time. Not like it meant something. Behind him, one of his men made a noise. Like a scoff. And I saw the Alpha's head twitch. Just a little. And the man shut up real quick. He started walking toward the house. With my bag. And I just stood there. Because what was I supposed to do. He looked back. "You coming? Or you want to keep standing in the mud so he can watch you on the cameras?" Cameras. Right. This place has cameras. Of course it does. Monster with a security system. I grabbed the other bag. Handle was cold now. Not warm anymore. Cold plastic. I followed him. My shoes squelched. Every step was loud and gross. Inside, the house was warm. Too warm. And it smelled like wood smoke and coffee and something else, something like - like clean laundry but sharp. Male. I hate that I noticed that. He set my bag down by the stairs. He didn't get close. He stayed a step away. But his eyes were heavy. Too heavy. Too hungry. Like he was trying not to look. "Upstairs. First room on the left. Shower's hot," he said. "Don't... don't overthink tonight." Don't overthink tonight. What kind of thing is that to say. I stood there in his entryway dripping mud on his floor. My old life in two bags that weren't even warm anymore. And I thought, let him watch. Let my ex watch whatever feed he gets from this place. Let him try to claw back what he threw away. Because I'm not standing in the mud anymore. I'm inside. And the beast everyone is scared of is staring at my wet sweater like I'm the only thing keeping him breathing.

I didn't sleep. Obviously. The bed was too big. Too soft. And it smelled like him even though he said it was a guest room. That clean laundry sharp smell again. I kept turning over and the sheets were cold on one side and hot on the other. I couldn't get it right. First room on the left. Shower's hot. Yeah. I did shower. I stood under it until my skin went red. Watched the mud swirl off my ankles and go down the drain. It was brown then grey then clear. My shampoo was still in my bag. My cheap one from the drugstore. His shower had this big black bottle that said something like CEDAR + SMOKE and I didn't use it. I used mine. Petty. Whatever. When I came out, my bags were still by the stairs. Exactly where I left them. He didn't touch them. He could have. But he didn't. The house was quiet. Too quiet. Monster's house should be loud, right? Growling and chains or something. But it was just quiet and the fridge humming. I went downstairs barefoot. My socks were still wet. I left them by the shower. He was in the kitchen. At 2 AM. Just sitting at the island in that same dark grey t-shirt. With a mug. Not drinking. Just holding it. His hands are huge. I noticed that again. Knuckles all scarred up. He didn't jump when I came in. He just looked up. "You didn't sleep," he said. "You didn't either," I said back. My voice still sounded wrecked. Like I had a cold. He almost smiled. Almost. "I don't sleep much." Great. Same. I stood in the doorway because I didn't know where else to stand. My hair was dripping on his floor. Drip. Drip. I should have toweled it more. "There's food," he said, nodding to the fridge. "If you want." I wasn't hungry. Then my stomach growled really loud. Like embarrassingly loud. Like it echoed. He didn't laugh. He just got up and opened the fridge. He moves... quiet. For a big guy. No stomping. He put bread and cheese and some kind of meat on the counter. And an apple. He sliced the apple with a knife that looked way too sharp for apples. Four slices. Even. Perfect. "My name is Kael," he said while slicing. Like he remembered he hadn't told me. "Just Kael." "I know," I said. "They told me. On the way over. The guards kept saying - they kept saying don't make the monster mad." His hand stopped for half a second. On the apple. "And are you mad?" I asked. I don't know why I asked that. My brain was not filtering. He pushed the plate toward me. Not too close. He left space. "Not at you," he said. I sat. Because my legs were shaking again. That teeth-clicking thing was coming back. I ate a piece of cheese. It tasted like nothing. Then like everything. Salty. "Why did you take me?" I said with my mouth half full. Rude. But I didn't care. "You didn't have to. You could have said no. To the alliance. To... to me." He was watching me eat. That heavy look again. Too heavy. Like he was trying to memorize my face but didn't want me to notice he was staring. "My pack doesn't trade people," he said. Simple. Flat. "Your ex. He offered. I said no. He left you anyway. In my mud. So what was I supposed to do? Leave you there?" He said your ex like it was a bad word. Like it tasted bad. "Yes," I said. "A lot of people would." "I'm not a lot of people," he said. No kidding. Monster. We sat there. 2 AM. Cheese and apple between us. My hair dripping. Then his phone buzzed. On the counter. He glanced at it. His jaw did that tight thing again. "Is it him?" I said before I could stop myself. He didn't answer right away. He turned the phone face down. "Go finish your apple," he said. "And then go back upstairs. Lock the door if you want. I have the key but I won't use it." He got up. Took his mug. Still full. Cold now probably. "Kael," I said. He stopped. "Thank you. For the... for the bag. Carrying it." Stupid. Thank you for carrying my bag. Like he was a bellhop. He looked at me over his shoulder. Same as last night in the shed. Same look. "Don't thank me yet," he said. "You haven't seen what it costs to stay here." And then he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me with the apple slices and the too-sharp knife and my cold bare feet on his warm floor. I ate all four slices. Even though I wasn't hungry. Let him watch the cameras, I thought again. Let my ex see me eating in this monster's kitchen at 2 AM like I belong here. I don't belong here. Not yet. But I'm not in the mud anymore either.

I woke up because someone was knocking. Not soft. Like cop knock. Boom boom boom. It was 7 AM. Light coming through the blinds in hard stripes. My mouth tasted gross. I thought for a second I was back in Jonah's house. Because that's how he knocked when he wanted me to hurry up with breakfast. Same rhythm. Then I remembered. Mud. Bags. Kael. Apple slices. Boom boom boom again. "It's me," Kael's voice from the other side. "You decent?" I was in his big t-shirt. I had stolen it off the chair. I don't even know why I did it. It was just there and my pajamas were still damp in my bag. It smelled like him and it went down to my knees. "Yeah," I said. My voice all scratchy. He opened the door but didn't come in all the way. Stood in the frame. He was already dressed. Black shirt today. Hair wet. Like he had been outside. "Your ex called," he said. No hello. My stomach dropped. Like actually dropped. That elevator feeling. "What?" "On the pack line. He wants you back." I laughed. I didn't mean to. It just burst out. Short and ugly. "He wants me back? Yesterday he - he set me down in the mud like I was trash and now he wants me back? What, the alliance didn't go through?" Kael's face didn't change. "The alliance went through. He got what he wanted. Now he wants... extra." Extra. Extra what. Me as extra. My hands were shaking again. I shoved them under the t-shirt. Under my thighs. "Tell him no," I said. Too fast. Too loud. "Tell him I'm not - I'm not a thing you can just..." "I told him no," Kael said. Calm. "I told him you're under my roof now. That means you're under my protection. He didn't like that." Of course he didn't. Jonah never liked when someone else said no for me. He liked to be the one saying no. "He said you stole his property," Kael added. And then his mouth twisted. Like he wanted to spit. "His words. Not mine." Property. Five years and I'm property. God. I stood up. The t-shirt was big and I felt stupid and small in it. My hair was a mess. "I'm not his property," I said. My voice was shaking but I said it anyway. "I'm not yours either. I want that clear. I'm not - I'm not staying here because you own me now." "I know," he said. Quick. Like he had been waiting for me to say it. "I know that, Elena." He stepped into the room then. Just one step. And he set something on the dresser. A phone. New. Box still half open. "Burner," he said. "If you want to call anyone. Or if you want to call him and tell him to go fuck himself yourself. Your choice." I stared at the phone. I didn't have anyone to call. My mom died two years ago. My friends were all his pack friends. They stopped texting after year three when I got too quiet. "Why are you doing this?" I whispered. Because I really didn't get it. Monsters don't do burner phones and apple slices at 2 AM. He looked at me. That heavy look again. Too hungry. Too dangerous. Like if I got too close I would burn. "Because when I saw you in the mud," he said, slow, like he was picking each word, "with your bags still warm... I remembered what it felt like. To be traded." Oh. Oh. He didn't say more. He didn't have to. He left the phone on the dresser and walked out. This time he closed the door soft. I sat back down on the bed. In his too-big t-shirt that smelled like cedar and smoke and I picked up the burner phone. It was light. Cheap plastic. I turned it on. No contacts. Blank screen. And I thought about Jonah's face if he saw me now. In the monster's t-shirt. In the monster's bed. Not broken. Not crying in the mud like he wanted. Let him try to claw back what he threw away, I thought. Let him try. I didn't call anyone. I just held the phone and listened to Kael's boots go downstairs. Quick. Not slow. And for the first time since the car engine, my hands stopped shaking.