Inside Out. Amy Lee Burgess

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      “So, I’m pregnant, right?” She wasn’t asking a question, but I nodded and sipped my iced chai. My throat was dry and I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what was wrong with my birth pack. I had a suspicion I already knew and it was last goddamn thing I wanted to deal with. The conspiracy.

      “I’m three months pregnant and I’ve been Alpha for seven months. Already the pack’s talking about who should be the next Alpha pair like the minute I give birth, I’m out and they’re in.” Faith’s chin jutted and her eyes sparked with indignation and something worse—humiliation.

      “That would be weird. Alphas are usually Alpha for at least five years. More in small packs like Mayflower. If you’re right, you’d have a year at best. Who’s next in line?”

      “That’s just it. It’s Rachel and Mark, or at least that’s how the rumor goes. And they were Alphas before me and Scott.” Faith sat straight in her chair and her voice vibrated with resentment.

      “A second chance to have a baby? Rachel’s got to be in her late thirties by now.” I did the mental math and Faith bounced in her chair.

      “That’s just it, Stanzie, she has children. Twins. They’re three. She’d be Alpha again for no reason except that she wouldn’t be me.”

      “Alan...” I began. I referred to another young pack member and tried to calculate his age.

      “He’s twenty-one. He’s not even bonded. Also, there’s no one near his age to bond with in the pack, so when he finds a bond mate, he’s going to leave and join her pack.”

      I blinked. “He’s tenth generation. There’s got to be some push back on that idea.”

      “No.” Her hair fell in her eyes with the force of her headshake. “It’s the other way around. He’s being encouraged.”

      My mouth dropped open. This was definitely not standard operating procedure for Mayflower. It went against all tradition.

      “That’s why I wanted you. I need you to investigate this because you know Mayflower. You understand how freaky proud we are of our heritage, our status as the third-oldest pack in America. Alan is from one of the oldest families we have. Everyone should be falling over themselves to find him a bond mate who wants to join us.”

      I nodded because it was true.

      “You know Paul renounced me, right?”

      Faith waved that away with an irritated movement of her hand. The Mayflower pack ring, a band of twisted gold and silver, flashed from her finger. The story went that Paul Revere himself had designed the ring. That part of it I might believe. The part where Paul was a member of the pack was not quite as believable, but it was the sort of rumor people from Mayflower didn’t discourage if it made the rounds at Regionals and Great Gatherings.

      “Scott wonders if they don’t like us because we’re first generation and we have no history.” Faith’s shoulders slumped and a surge of anger pumped through my veins.

      “New blood is vital for continuation. Otherwise you’d end up bonding with your cousin or uncle, for Christ’s sake.”

      “All I ever heard growing up was that I wasn’t true Mayflower. Not like you.” Faith stole a look at me through her long lashes and I sat back in my chair, disturbed and astounded.

      “You were the perfect child and I was the rebel. Be more like Stanzie was a constant refrain through my childhood. Until you shifted with that German boy in New Orleans.” Faith’s tone had started out aggrieved, but turned happy. “I was so proud of you for that, Stanzie. I never thought you had it in you. And then you gave the whole pack the finger and ran off with Grey Owens and joined Riverglow. God, I was jealous.”

      “I was always envious of the way Todd doted on you. Paul never did that with me,” I confessed.

      We exchanged rueful looks. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, for sure.

      “When Alan was born, Todd wanted me to feel special.” Faith’s smile was affectionate and grateful as she thought of her father.

      “Alan was Shane’s son, not Todd’s,” I said.

      “But Todd was still in Shane and Samantha’s triad. Spare to the pair. He probably knew how it felt to be a little bit on the outside looking in. Although the three of them have been happy all these years, I wonder how different things would have been if my mother had lived.”

      Lily’s face, the carbon copy of my mother’s, flashed before my eyes. Unfortunately, in my mind her face was contorted with the agonized screams of labor gone wrong.

      “I want you to come to Willoughby. Come see our pack. I’ll say it’s a family reunion. We ran into each other by accident in Boston and decided together you should visit. I’ve made you reservations at the Wishing Well Motel. You can check in anytime after three today.”

      Motel? I wasn’t welcome to stay with her and her bond mate? I guess it made sense since there was something wrong in the pack, but it still stung. Maybe she was mad I’d left Mayflower even though she said she was proud of me? Faith was the closest thing to family I had left. It was hard not to feel rejected.

       Stanzie. Get a grip. You’re an Advisor on a job. Act like one.

      “Do you have a car?” Faith’s loaded question broke into my self-pitying reverie.

      I bit my lip. Technically, the answer was yes. The Prelude was parked in the tiny driveway on the side of the condo. The downstairs neighbors had no car so I got the space by default. Murphy had parked it there after we’d returned from Bethany’s funeral. I hadn’t been near it since.

      “Yes, I have a car,” I said.

      Faith plucked a pad and pen from her purse and scribbled down a number. She ripped the page out of the notebook and slid it across the table toward me careful to avoid the wet spots of condensation from our drinks. “My cell number. Call me when you’re settled. Bring your bond mate. I hear he’s an Advisor too.”

      “He’s in Dublin right now.” My smile was evasive. Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t say anything.

      After a swig of water, she shouldered her purse and rose to her feet. The June sunlight illuminated her blond hair and turned it golden.

      “Thank you, Stanzie. I feel better already.”

      I sucked down chai tea and watched her walk down Cambridge Street—a young woman in a short sun dress with blond hair and cheap Target sandals. Men drivers craned their necks to watch her go but she was oblivious. They were only Others, after all.

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