Chapter Twelve: Tangled Trails and Tangled Tails

The Midnight Pack was the last damn place I wanted to be, but Cade's orders were ironclad—beta duty, no arguing. Tuesday blurred into a haze of packing—shoving jeans, a couple shirts, a tent, and two blow-up beds into my beat-up SUV, the rusty trunk creaking as I slammed it shut, tires sagging under the weight. That old rig had been my parents' once, handed down after they died, but I barely drove it—other pack mates kept it running, tinkering with it when I'd rather run on four legs than four wheels. Wednesday morning rolled around too fast, and there I was, sliding behind the wheel, Electra climbing in beside me. Her green eyes stayed glued out the window, long light brown hair spilling over a cream sweater that caught the corner of my vision like a soft taunt. She hadn't said much since Cade dropped the trip on us—probably because I'd been dodging her for days, and she'd likely caught on, her silence a mirror to mine. Now the three-hour drive stretched out like a sentence, the engine's hum and her occasional rustle against the gray upholstery the only breaks in the quiet. I gripped the wheel, knuckles whitening, her wildflower scent seeping into the cab, curling around me like smoke I couldn't shake. That shy kiss from days ago clung to my skull, and here she was, inches away, a wall of tension between us I didn't know how to crack.

The second the SUV rolled to a stop on Midnight's turf—a sprawling compound of pine-framed cabins hugging a dense forest—she was gone, door slamming as she bolted toward the pack house without so much as a glance back. Her ponytail bounced with every quick, purposeful step, probably off to find old faces from her academy days or those childhood visits with Cade's family. I sighed, the air crisp with pine and a faint whiff of smoke, and popped the trunk, hauling out our gear—my worn duffel, her sleek black backpack—slinging them over my shoulder as I headed for the open fields past the cabins. Visiting packs camped here, tents sprouting across the grass like colourful weeds, while the pack house glowed warm and exclusive for Midnight's own, its porch lights casting long shadows.

"Hey, Kyan," a voice purred from my left, lilting and too familiar. I turned, spotting Amelia—a Midnight wolf from a mate party months back—her dark eyes glinting under the afternoon sun, chestnut hair spilling over her shoulders in loose waves, a leather jacket hugging her frame.

I flashed a smile, winking as I adjusted the bags. "Hey, Amelia."

She bit her lip, twirling a strand of hair, her gaze sliding over me slow and deliberate, like she was sizing up a meal. "Maybe I'll see you again later?" Her voice teased, hips swaying as she edged closer, boots scuffing the dirt.

I smirked, leaning into it. "Sure thing." At least there was one upside to this trip—the women who didn't come with baggage.

She spun back to her giggling friends, a trio whispering behind their hands, and I trudged on, finding a clear patch of grass near the forest's edge—close enough to hear the pack house, far enough to breathe. The tent went up in thirty minutes—poles clicking, green fabric rustling as I hammered stakes into the soft earth—a spacious two-room setup, plenty of room for me and Electra to stretch out, the divider swaying as I moved. I pumped up the blow-up beds, the hand pump's hiss cutting through the quiet, sweat beading down my spine and sticking my shirt to my back by the time I finished. Wiping my brow, I stood, the late sun dipping low, and steeled myself for the next chore: greeting the Alpha and Luna. Cade would skin me if I skipped it—protocol mattered, even if I'd rather be anywhere else.

The pack house loomed ahead, cedar walls warm in the fading light, voices spilling out as I stepped inside, the air thick with woodsmoke and pack scent. Torin, the Alpha—barrel-chested, greying black hair, sharp brown eyes—stood by the hearth, his Luna, Seline, beside him, silver hair braided tight, blue eyes warm but piercing. I nodded to them, forcing a grin that felt half-real. "Hello, Alpha, Luna."

"Kyan," Torin rumbled, crossing to shake my hand, his grip iron, calluses scraping my palm. "Good you're here. Heard Cade's tied up with his very pregnant mate?" His brow arched, digging for confirmation.

I nodded, keeping it easy. "Yeah, Callie's due any day now. He's glued to her side." My smile tightened, but it held, the lie of calm settling over me.

Seline's laugh was soft, her voice smooth as river stone. "Well, it's good to see you again, Kyan. Enjoy the party tonight—and try not to stir up too much trouble." Torin chuckled beside her, a low, rolling sound.

"I'll try," I grinned, a flicker of real amusement breaking through. They nodded and drifted off, blending into the crowd, leaving me adrift in the hum of voices. I'd been here before—pack visits as a kid with Cade, Electra, and their parents, back when Midnight's borders were a rogue hotspot, their enforcers swapping tales with Mr. Harris over campfires. They'd dragged me along after my parents died, treated me like one of theirs, and these woods still carried echoes of those days.

With hours to kill before the aging ceremony party kicked off, I needed to run. The forest stretched out, shadowed trails whispering memories—racing Cade through the pines, Electra's cream wolf nipping at our heels, their mom's voice calling us back for supper. I stripped at the tent, tossing my shirt onto my duffel—jeans still on from the drive—and shifted fast, dark grey fur rippling over me, paws hitting the earth. The scent of moss and sap flooded my nose as I bolted, muscles stretching, the wild swallowing me whole. Those childhood runs flickered past—hours lost in these trees, free and reckless.

Then it hit me—rose, a scent I recognized instantly, my body tensing, a smell I'd once loved now sharp and bitter cutting through the pine. I skidded to a stop, claws digging into dirt, shifting back mid-stride, human form crouching as I growled, "Natalie." Not a question, a curse.

She stepped from behind a gnarled oak, dark blonde hair swaying, blue eyes glinting with a smirk that twisted my gut. Her hips swung as she closed the gap, stopping too close, that rose scent choking me, a ghost of something I'd once craved. "Kyan?" Her smirk widened, mock surprise dripping from her tone. "Fancy seeing you here."

"What do you want?" My voice rasped, nearly a growl, hands clenching at my sides, bare chest prickling in the cool air.

She reached up, a finger tracing down my chest, slow and deliberate, her smirk turning sultry. "Kyan... baby..." Her hand lingered at my abdomen, hovering over taut muscle, her touch a spark I wanted to snuff out. "Long time no see. We should go have some fun."

I grabbed her wrists, shoving her back until she hit the tree, bark scraping her shirt. "Don't touch me," I snarled, grip tight, her rose clashing with the forest's clean bite.

Her smile only grew, eyes flashing. "You know I like it rough, baby." She tugged against me, unfazed, a glint of challenge in her stare.

I leaned in, lips brushing her ear, voice low and venomous. "I know. Looked like it when I caught you with that guy." I released her, stepping back, turning to leave, the memory searing—walking in on her a year ago, tangled with some Midnight wolf, her gasps not mine, the shock of it still raw.

"Geez, you're still hung up on that?" she called, her tone mocking. I froze, mid-step. "Get over it, Kyan. It's not like we were mates—just having fun."

Anger roared up my spine, a wildfire I couldn't choke down. I spun, growling, "Fun? Is that all it was when I said I loved you?" My yell bounced off the trees, her smirk faltering, something sadder flickering across her face, caught off guard. "Stay away from me!" I stormed off, fists clenched, the forest blurring as I aimed for the tent, needing walls—even canvas—to block her out.

Back at the tent, I dug through my duffel, yanking on a pair of black boxers before collapsing onto the blow-up bed, the air mattress squeaking under me. I stared at the ceiling, willing the hours to crawl by until the party started. "Kyan?" a voice called, soft and tentative, cutting through the haze.

"Yeah?" I muttered, too drained to move.

"It's Amelia. Can I come in?" Her tone lifted, and I smirked despite the weight—distraction sounded damn good.

I rolled off the bed, unzipping the flap. Amelia stood there, chestnut hair catching the fading light, dark eyes shy but warm, a denim skirt and jacket swapping her earlier leather vibe. "Come in," I said, gesturing to the spacious two-room tent, the divider flapping in the breeze.

"Wow, this is bigger than I expected," she said, stepping inside, her gaze sweeping the space before settling on me. "It's good to see you again, Kyan." A blush crept up her cheeks, fingers twisting her shirt hem. We'd hooked up months back at my pack's mate party—quick, hot, no strings, her gasps under me a memory I'd carried.

I smirked, stepping closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her skin. "Good to see you too." Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, eyes flicking to mine.

"I've been thinking about you a lot," she murmured, stepping into my space. "Kind of want to continue where we left off last time."

No hesitation—our lips crashed together, hungry and urgent, hands clawing at clothes. My shirt was still off from the run, her jacket hit the ground, jeans and her skirt shed in a frantic tangle. We stumbled onto the blow-up bed, air whooshing beneath us, kissing hard in just our underwear. Her hands roamed my back, nails grazing scars from old fights, and I moaned, the heat of her touch—familiar, easy—burning away the day's mess.

"Kyan?" Electra's voice cut through, sharp with shock. I froze, Amelia stiffening beneath me. "Oh, I'm sorry... I, uh..." she stammered, her wide green eyes locking on mine for a split second, face flushing red before she spun and bolted, the tent flap swinging wild behind her.

"Shit," I muttered, scrambling up, the air cold against my bare skin. I hadn't heard her come in, too lost in Amelia's heat, her scent—leather and spice—drowning out wildflowers until now.

Amelia shoved me off, dark eyes flashing as she snatched her clothes. "You could've told me you had a girlfriend, Kyan!" she huffed, yanking her skirt on, movements jerky with anger.

"But I don't—" I started, hands raised, but she barrelled over me.

"It's true what they say about you, isn't it?" She pulled her jacket tight, arms crossing, glare cutting through me.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely lost, slumping back on the bed in just my boxers.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater," she spat, the words a gut-punch. She stormed out, the flap slapping shut, leaving me staring at the empty space.

"But I'm not..." I shouted after her, voice fading as she vanished into the dusk. I sat there for ten minutes, head in my hands, the weight crashing down. Natalie's lie—her cheating flipped to me, a rumour she'd spread a year ago to dodge her own mess—had trailed me here, fading back home only to bite me now when I'd thought it was buried.

I growled, shoving my jeans back on, the denim rough against my skin, grabbing my shirt from the floor I pull it on. Electra's shocked face stuck with me—those wide green eyes, the flush on her cheeks, gone before I could blink. I hadn't planned that, didn't want her walking in on it, and now I had to apologize—not because we were anything, but because she didn't need to see that crap. Cade's shadow loomed—no trouble, no screwing up—but this was about her getting caught in my mess, and I hated it.

I paced the middle of the tent for a bit, boots scuffing the floor, then laid on the mattress waiting for night to fall. The hours dragged, the light outside bleeding to deep blue, campfires flickering to life across the field, their smoke curling into the sky. Finally, the distant thrum of music and voices swelled—the aging ceremony party kicking off near the pack house. I stepped out of the tent, the night air sharp with pine and fire. She'd be there, lost in the crowd, and I'd find her—not to spill excuses, but to say sorry she had to see that, because she didn't deserve the awkward mess I'd made. I headed toward the pack house, drums and laughter pulling me in, gut tight with the tangle I'd woven and the words I still hadn't sorted out.