Page 22 of Star-crossed Betas

“I’m sorry. I know it’s fucked up. But we’ll get there one day—I know we will.” I try to reassure him. “Our brothers will be Alphas one day; maybe we start laying the groundwork with them for some kind of long-term peace agreement to be put in place when they take over?” I suggest.

“I started having those conversations with Jasper back in July.” He sighs deeply, but I don’t reply because there’s nothing to say. So much of this is beyond our control.

My obnoxious phone alarm wakes me up at nine am the following day. I didn’t get home until five, and I’m grateful to my past self for booking today off work.

I jump in the shower before heading downstairs because the more attached I get to Fee, the more paranoid I become about us getting caught. Whenever I see him, I stop by a small stone house with an outside tap on my way home. In the winter months especially, I can’t say I particularly enjoy blasting myself with icy cold water. Still, it's better than risking anyone from my pack catching his scent on me. The second morning shower is more of an extra precaution, even going so far as to use some horrendous mint shower gel that makes my balls sting and my eyes water, but it seems to do the trick.

When I walk into the kitchen, I make a beeline for the kettle. Our house is an old Victorian terrace. On the bottom floor is an open-plan kitchen with a large farmhouse-style dining table.

Up one floor is Da’s study and the living room, which is where I find my brother and sister, coffee in hand. Niamh peers up at me from the book she’s reading; she’s curled up on the sofa under a blanket.

“Mornin', Con, taken today off?”

“Yeah, figured I had the days to use up, earned myself a post-birthday lazy day,” I reply, smiling at her. Niamh has been my best friend my whole life; the guilt of lying to her by omission has been eating away at me these last few months. I can feel the distance between us like an ocean of my own making.

“Same. I’m already bored, though. There’s a Van Gogh exhibition in Manchester today if you fancy it?” I hate that she feels she has to ask because six months ago, she would have just demanded I go with her.

“Sure, what about you, Sammy?” I ask my older brother, who’s sitting in the armchair on his laptop.

“Huh?” he replies.

“Me and Niamh are gonna head to Manchester for the Van Gogh exhibit if you wanna join?” I’m really hoping he says yes because I’m pretty sure a whole day of only Niamh and me and the truth will erupt from me like lava from Vesuvius.

“Oh, no can do. We found a Campbell wolf on our land last night, so dealing with the fallout today,” he answers, sounding both distracted and frustrated. My heart rate spikes and my palms are sweaty as I panic over whether it could be Fee. Could he have followed me here for some reason? I need to calm my nerves before he or Niamh notices.

“That’s annoyin'. Who was it?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant, but I can sense Niamh’s eyes boring into the back of my head.

“Some fifteen-year-old pup gettin’ too big for their boots, I think,” he replies, and my shoulders sag in relief. Definitely not Fee—thank fuck.

I’m sitting on the other end of the sofa to Niamh, scrolling on my phone when Sam leaves the house, the front door slamming loudly behind him. I wait a few minutes to ensure he’s not forgotten anything.

“Sammy sounded pretty exhausted by the whole Campbell wolf being on our land thing, don’t you think?” I ask Niamh, and she puts her book down on her lap.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Probably feels like puttin' out a bunch of pointless fires.”

“Do you reckon when he’s Alpha, maybe he’ll attempt to bring an end to the conflict?”

“Doubtful. Da’s been grooming him to take over as Alpha his whole life, leading a turf war included,” she says. My stomach twists painfully. That wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear.

Five minutes later, I realise Niamh is still staring at me; I can tell she’s building herself up to interrogation. I have a feeling that when she realises I’ve texted Will to hang out with us today, she isn't gonna be happy. Not that she doesn’t love Will, but she’ll see it for what it is—an avoidance tactic.

“Con, I know you’re hidin' something from me.” Straight to the point, that’s Niamh.

“Oh yeah, what am I hidin’ from you?” I try to keep my voice even.

“Don’t treat me like I'm thick. What I was going to say was, I’m assuming there’s a good reason why you haven’t told me because you’ve never kept secrets from me before.'' I swallow loudly. “But I need to know if I should be worried?” she asks, eyes shining with concern for me. Ugh, I feel utterly rotten for making her worry. I can’t tell her the truth, but I can’t lie either.

“It’s for the best you don’t know, okay? But you don’t need to worry, I promise.” It’s a half-lie. If she knew the truth, she would definitely be worried.

“Okay,” she says, putting a surprisingly quick end to what I expected would turn into an inquisition. “I’ll let Will know he can hang out with us today then.” She’s smiling now.

“He’s such a snitch; he texted you?” I say accusingly.

“Of course he did. What? You think because he’s your future husband, he’s always on your side? Will would probably stab you if I asked him to.” She’s got a smug look on her face. I’m relieved we seem to be back to normal, but her reminder about Will has my stomach in knots. I can't help but picture Fee’s face as I broke the news to him last night.

“Thanks, that’s very reassurin',” I say sarcastically.

“And then he ran into my knife,” she replies in a bad American accent.

---