Chapter 4 - Zane

When I wake up, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.

It’s not out of the realm of possibility. Wherever I am, I’m not in Rosecreek. The motel room is a mess—the bed sheets are twisted, and the smell of stale alcohol hangs in the air. I have very few memories of my bender last night; I have to double-check to make sure there’s nobody in the bed with me.

Sunlight slices through the cheap blinds, stabbing straight into my eyes. I groan, pressing the heels of my hands into my forehead, trying to stop my skull from splitting open.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, vibrating loudly against the wood. I grab it, squinting at the screen. Missed calls. Rafael. Byron. Olivia. Even Maisie.

The fuck do they all want?

I sit up, the room tilting around me as I swipe through the notifications. There’s a meeting today; it’s been on the books for some time. Some new job. Keira is calling everyone in, probably for some scheme they’ll need me for. Ever since the auction ring was taken down, which I had very little part in, she’s spent half of the time intended for recovery itching to get her teeth into something bigger. I knew from the moment I met her the type she was. She’s similar to my brother. Lives to work.

I rub my temples, trying to remember when I last felt anything but on edge.

The smell of old whiskey on my breath hits me as I roll out of bed. I catch a glimpse of myself in the cracked mirror across the room: unkempt, scruffy, eyes bloodshot. Not my best look. In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face, trying to shake off my hangover, but it barely makes a dent.

I throw on my clothes—jeans, a worn-out T-shirt, and my leather jacket. My head’s still pounding, but there’s no avoiding this meeting. If I don’t show, they’ll just keep calling. Plus, I can tell Keira’s not someone you want to piss off.

I grab my helmet, shove my phone in my pocket, and head out to my motorcycle. The motel parking lot is mostly empty, the asphalt cracked and faded. I climb onto the bike, rev the engine, and head out toward Rosecreek, the wind whipping against my face as I try to clear my thoughts.

By the time I reach the pack center, I’ve managed to shove most of the hangover into the back of my mind. Sunlight refracts off the windows of the broad, clean building. Definitely the most high-budget place I’ve ever worked. I pull into the parking lot, kill the engine, and head inside.

The moment I step into the building, I feel eyes on me. People I barely know try to greet me, but I keep my head down, giving a few half-hearted nods as I make my way upstairs. I don’t have the patience for small talk today. Or any day, really.

Rafael’s leaning against the wall just outside the meeting room, scrolling through his phone. His hair is tied back and there is a bruise on his temple, still fresh from our spar yesterday.

Guilt tugs at my gut, and for a second, I almost consider walking past him without a word. But I can’t do it.

“Rafael,” I mutter, stopping beside him. “About yesterday…”

Rafael looks up, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, I see flashes of what happened—the sound of his head cracking against the weight plates. He doesn’t look scared, but he doesn’t look at ease either.

But then he waves it off, offering me a small, tight-lipped smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Zane. It’s over,” he says, his voice steady, but there’s something in the air between us that wasn’t there before. I guess I can’t do much about that now.

I grunt in response, nodding, and push open the door to the meeting room, Rafael following me in. The air inside is thick with anticipation. The rest of the team is already seated around the table—Ado, Bigby, Aris, Percy, even my usually-late brother. Their conversations stalls as I walk in. I take a seat, ignoring the curious looks from the others.

They don’t ask where I’ve been. They know better.

Byron pulls a face at me from across the table. I scowl right back, taking out my phone to methodically clear the notifications from his calls. As a rule, we don’t worry about each other. I’d like to keep it that way.

The door opens again, and Keira strides in, speaking to someone over her shoulder.

It’s her. I grip my phone hard enough that it hurts.

She’s in her casual work clothes—she’s even breathtaking in her simple pale cardigan and collared shirt, dark brown curls pinned messily at the back of her head in a clip. Maisie’s eyes flick to me for a brief moment before she looks away, taking a seat at the far end of the table—as far from me as she can get.

Keira, sharp-eyed and composed as always, strides to the front of the room, setting down a stack of files with a determined thud. Her eyes sweep over the room, sizing up each of us before she speaks, evaluating us all cooly in the way she does. I don’t know if it’s her experience working in the field or something more instinctive. Doesn’t matter. It works.

This mission is her baby. Nobody is allowed to fuck it up.

“This one’s going to require finesse,” she begins, tapping the edge of the files with one finger. “We’ve got intel that a rival faction from out west—a pack based in Haverwood, just past the North Dakotan border—has been expanding their operations and fighting for territory. They’ve displaced three other smaller packs east of their settlement. One was only a couple of counties over, and that’s just the ones we know of.”

She glances at me, and I sit up a bit straighter. I must look like a mess right now, disheveled and stinking of booze. But she knows my experience. I’ve been on recon before—solo, in and out, no attachments, just get the job done. I can handle that.

Admittedly, much of my recon work has been less… clean, white-gloved, and legal than this. But they don’t need to know that.

“We’ve identified a series of elite events they’ll be attending over the next few weeks,” Keira continues, eyes still on me. “Fundraisers, charity galas, the works. We need someone to get close, gather intel, and report back.” Her eyebrow raises delicately. “Zane, you’re going in.”

I hesitate, then nod. Fine. I can play dress-up if I have to—anything to get the job done.

“And you won’t be going alone.” She gestures to the other end of the table. “Maisie will be your partner, posing as your fiancée.”

I freeze. My heart sinks like a stone in my chest.

I glance over at Maisie, and her wide-eyed expression tells me she’s just as shocked as I am. Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Neither do I.

The room is silent around us. Maybe others are speaking. I can’t tell. I can’t hear a thing, not even the birds outside.

Keira keeps talking, laying out the details. I watch her lips move, but I can’t take anything in. All I can focus on is the fact that Maisie, of all people, is going to be with me on this mission. Posing as my fiancée. That means close quarters, constant contact. No avoiding her, no keeping my distance. She’ll be in my space, and if she’s in my space, then I’ll do something stupid, and I can’t do something stupid. Not now, not if it’s her.

No. This isn’t going to work. I don’t care how good Keira’s plan is.

Maisie isn’t built for this. She’s a healer, not a field operative. And we’re sure as hell not playing house together.

The meeting wraps up, and everyone starts to filter out of the room. I make a beeline for Aris, who’s lingering by the door, talking to Ado. I cut in without ceremony.

“Aris,” I say, keeping my voice low but firm. “This is dogshit.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, dismissing Ado with a nod before turning to face me fully. “Morning. What’s on your mind, Zane?”

“You know damn well what’s on my mind,” I growl. “Maisie? Seriously?”

Without another word, Aris pulls me from the room into the hallway and kicks the door closed with his foot. I spot Maisie through the gap as the door closes, eyes on the floor, looking faintly devastated.

My heart twists. But it’s too late to apologize for it now.

“You don’t actually get to make this decision,” Aris informs me stolidly.

“She’s not cut out for this. She’s not—”

“She’s the perfect cover,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “No one would suspect a healer. And with her by your side, you’ll blend right in. It’s the best option we have.”

I grit my teeth, frustration bubbling up inside me. “You’re putting her in danger. She’s almost completely untrained. Doesn’t that compromise the mission?”

Aris crosses his arms, his expression hardening. “You’re part of this pack now, Zane. We all take risks. Maisie can handle herself. And so can you.”

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “If you think I’m going to just sit back and let this happen, you’re crazy. I’m not going to let her get hurt because of some half-baked plan.”

Aris stares at me, unflinching. “Then leave.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I blink, taken aback, but Aris doesn’t waver.

“You’ve threatened to walk before,” he says calmly. “But you’re still here. So either you’re in, or you’re out. Make a decision.”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I can feel the tension between us like a live wire, crackling in the air. But I know he’s right. I don’t trust this pack, not fully, not yet. But I don’t have anywhere else to go. And I know I could survive as a rogue again, but sometimes, when I imagine it, I think the exhaustion and the running and the loneliness might be too much to do a second time over.

I clench my fists, taking a slow breath before finally stepping back.

I don’t need to say anything. He knows he’s won.

Aris nods once, satisfied. “I’m glad we’re clear. Do the job. And keep Maisie safe.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving me standing in the deserted hallway, with the faint buzz of muted conversation drifting through the meeting room door. I’m stuck between company and solitude, between being part of a pack and being completely alone.