Page 89 of A Wolf in the Garden

“Bronte,” Ellie says softly, her fingers digging into the flesh of my thigh. “I wanted to thank Weston.”

My hackles rise automatically. She doesn’t owe him her thanks, but she continues, unaware of my reaction. “He saved my life. He didn’t have to, and he did, and I need him to know that I greatly appreciate that.”

“He’s here. He hears you.”

“Good,” Ellie says with an air of finality, and I am once more in awe of her quiet strength. She feels things deeply — she’s been hurt, badly — and yet she forever takes the higher ground, forging a path through all of this mess.

“I’m going to saysee you tomorrow, then,” Mom announces. “I need to call ahead and inform our staff we want our plane ready for mid-morning. Van, I’ll contact you before the flight — I might need your help arranging transport on the other end.”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you Van. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

* * *

“What time is it?” Ellie mutters as my phone buzzes for what feels like the tenth time.

With my eyes still closed, I stretch out an arm, fishing around blindly on my nightstand until I find my phone. “Ten past eight.” I yawn, squinting at the screen. “Mom sent me an essay.” I scroll further, grunting. “Multiple essays.”

“Just her?”

“No. There’s a message from Lacey. Oh god, it’s a voice one. Almost two minutes.”

Ellie stretches, rolling over, wiggling her ass at me until I roll towards her and be the big spoon. “Play it. I wanna hear,” she demands.

“Alright.”

“Van,”Lacey’s voice begins.“I just heard from Mom. Firstly, what the fuck? Secondly, she offered me a ride on the private jet, they’re flying out in four hours and I’mscrambling, because of course I said yes. I’d be a fool not to take up the offer with two young kids, so don’t judge me for that, we’ll just have to sort the residency stuff when we’re in New Zealand, I’ll enter on a tourist visa like Mom and Dad and Seth. Don’t tell me not to come, Evander, I know there’s fae shit going on — Mom has explained — but to be honest, there’s fae shit everywhere in the world right now and I’m sick of not even being in the same country as my own alpha. I’ll see you tonight. The boys will be bouncing off the walls with overtiredness, so be prepared for that. I’m thinking Mom and Dad can stay in my house with Seth, and the boys and I can take your guest bedrooms, for now? Obviously I can’t bring a nanny on such short notice, so I’m really going to need your help with them. Sorry in advance. Love you. Love to you too, Ellie, I know you’re listening to this! I’ve gotta go. See you in New Zealand!”

“Oh wow,” Ellie says. “It’s all go.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Seventeen

ELLIE

We’ve just climbed out of the shower when Van’s phone lights up with a message. He sits on his bed, naked, reading it. “It’s Lacey. They’re landing in twenty minutes, so I’d say an hour and a half from now, we’ll hear the helicopter flying in.”

“Really, that quick?” It’s nine thirty at night, less than twenty four hours since we spoke on the phone to his parents, and good to her word, Van’s mum has made the trip happen. She had to, really — the full moon is tomorrow, so the window for travel was small to begin with.

“Mmhm. They’ll get processed through the airport really quickly; they have their own entrance for the VIPs, their own customs officers, their own immigration officials.”

“The life of the rich and famous.”

He frowns down at his screen. “I can’t blame her for jumping on the flight with Mom and Dad. It’s so much easier flying private, especially with pups. I wonder if she’s spoken directly to my father yet, or still giving him the silent treatment.”

I pull out a pair of underwear from my drawer. “Knowing Lacey, I’d say silent treatment. She’s pretty stubborn, your sister.”

Van snorts, and I’m sure he’s thinking of at least ten incidents where Lacey has refused to do something he’s suggested. I slide on my underwear, then head over to Van’s drawers, pulling out one of his t-shirts. He gives me a curious look as I pull it over my head. “Your own clothes aren’t good enough?”

I lift the collar of it to my nose, sniffing. “My clothes don’t smell like you. I know you’re the wolf, but I’m pretty obsessed with your scent too, just so you know.” It’s true. If I could bottle his scent and wear it as a perfume, I would. Or maybe a hand cream, or something I could just sniff at all day secretly. The man smellsgood.

There’s humour dancing in his eyes. “What’s going on in that head of yours, right now?”

“Honestly, you don’t want to know. It’s borderline unhinged and stalker-ish.”

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