Chapter 7 I have to agree
Selene
The coffee went cold while I stared at it. Archer's words kept playing in my head - Vortend was coming to the ball. Fuck. This was bad.
"Selene?" Martha stuck her head in, looking worried. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I looked around and noticed frost on my coffee cup. Shit. "Sorry, I'm not feeling great. Can I head out early today?"
Martha's expression softened. "Of course. You've been working too hard anyway. Go home and rest."
I thanked her, quickly gathering my things. The urgency to tell my mother about this development consumed me. She needed to know immediately.
The drive home took forever. My hands were still shaking when I parked. At least this little rental felt safe.
I pushed open the front door, stepping into the darkened hallway. Setting my handbag down, I closed the door quietly behind me, not wanting to startle my mother if she was resting.
"Mom?" I called out softly.
No response.
"Mom?" I tried again, louder this time.
"Up here, honey!" Her voice finally drifted down from upstairs.
At the top of the stairs, I found her dusting the hallway, her hair tied back in a practical bun, feather duster in hand. Despite our circumstances, she always maintained our home with pride.
"Mom, we're screwed," I said the second I walked in.
We moved into my bedroom—the larger of the two upstairs rooms that we'd been preparing for when the baby came.
Now it served as my private space, though the nursery items remained, a painful reminder of what might have been.
I sat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath before delivering the news.
"Vortend is coming for the ball, Mom."
Mom's face went through about five different emotions before she dropped her duster and shut the window. "What happened?"
"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"Positive. Alpha Archer told me himself."
She shook her head, eyes darting nervously around the room. "We need to be careful, Selene. Very careful."
"I know," I agreed, running my hands through my hair. "But what choice do we have? We can't exactly pack up and leave now."
My mother frowned. "I don't like how much time you spend with Archer. He's dangerous."
"We've only heard one side of the story, Mom," I argued. "The old pack's version. Archer has given us shelter, a home. We can't be rude or hostile to him."
"There's a difference between politeness and becoming too familiar," she countered.
"I can handle being around him," I said, not sure I believed it myself.
Archer had been nothing but kind to me since my arrival. "Besides, he's invited me to attend the ball."
"Absolutely not," my mother said firmly.
"I agree," I said, surprising her. "We should avoid Vortend at all costs."
I hesitated, then added the most troubling detail. "He knows I'm pregnant, Mom. Somehow, he knows."
I paced the room anxiously, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. "Remember when we considered leaving the pack and felt like we were being watched? What if Vortend has been looking for me all this time?"
My mother sat on the edge of my bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Let's try to stay positive. We've been safe here so far."
"Only because I've been a mess," I said. "The pregnancy, the rejection - it's all made me weak."
"Which has helped mask your identity as an Alpha's daughter," my mother pointed out.
I didn't tell her that my health was deteriorating more than she realized. The last check-up had shown concerning results—even Vivian had been surprised by the readings.
"I should call Vivian," I said. "She might know more about what's happening."
"That's a good idea," my mother agreed. "Moving isn't an option right now, not in your condition. So you should be careful."
"I'll handle this, Mom," I assured her, though I wasn't entirely sure how. "Don't worry."
As she left the room, I sent a quick text to Vivian asking her to call me when she had a moment. Then I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of a reasonable excuse to decline Archer's invitation without offending him.
We had just over a week to figure out our next move. It would have to be enough.
"So Vortend will go to the ball held by the Alpha of the Misty Mountain pack?" Vivian's voice was skeptical over the phone. "That seems... unusual."
"I know," I agreed, keeping my voice low. "It doesn't make sense. Black Pine and Mist Mountain have been rivals for generations. Why would he suddenly accept an invitation?"
"I'll ask Jason if he's heard anything," Vivian promised. "But be careful, Selene. If Vortend is looking for you..."
"I know," I cut her off, not wanting to hear the rest. "Thanks, Viv."
I hung up. Still felt like crap.
Later that evening, I headed to the local grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner.
As I was leaving with bags in hand, a sleek black car pulled up beside me. The window rolled down to reveal Archer's face.
"Need a ride?" he asked with a warm smile.
"I can manage," I replied, shifting the grocery bags in my arms.
"Please, let me help," he insisted. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you about something."
I hesitated, thinking this might be the perfect opportunity to decline his ball invitation. "Alright," I agreed.
Archer jumped out to help with my bags, placing them carefully in his trunk before opening the passenger door for me.
As I settled into the leather seat, I realized how our relationship had evolved into something perhaps too friendly for comfort.
"What kind of music do you like?" he asked as he started the engine.
"Country music," I answered, surprising myself with the truth.
He leaned across me to fasten my seatbelt, his arm brushing against my chest. We both froze at the unexpected contact, our eyes meeting.
Archer quickly looked away, pulling back to his side of the car.
The car suddenly felt way too small.
"So," Archer broke the silence as he pulled onto the road, "which pack are you from originally?"
My heart rate spiked. "Forest Oak, like I told you."
He shook his head slightly. "You seem more like a city girl than someone from Forest Oak."
"I studied in the city," I said carefully, trying to keep my voice steady. My mind raced with worry. Was he suspicious of our identities?
"Sorry," Archer said, reaching for my hand. "Didn't mean to push. I get it - bad ex, don't want to talk about it. You're safe here, that's all that matters."
I felt a small measure of relief. At least for now, we seemed safe. But I couldn't fully trust him—couldn't trust anyone outside my small circle of family and friends.
"My mother's been ill," Archer said, changing the subject. "I was hoping you might help with the ball preparations since she can't. Nothing strenuous," he added quickly, "just some decorating advice and supervision."
I wanted to refuse, to find any excuse, but I remembered our precarious position. We needed Archer's protection, his goodwill. I couldn't risk offending him.
"Of course," I heard myself say. "I'd be happy to help."