I take the next exit off the motorway, veering my car onto the familiar main road leading to Black Mountain. Shay's van leads the way, and as the traffic lightens, my phone rings, displaying Alexei's name. He's worse than a helicopter parent. I sigh, accept the call and wait.
"You're behind schedule, мой маленький спитфайр," his words are curt, bored even. Gritting my teeth, I grip the steering wheel tighter.
"We got delayed," I bite my bottom lip. I know there's no point in asking how Alexei knows. Of course, he knows. He has a direct link to my car's sat nav and knows exactly where I am.
"Why?"
"I got my period," I offer, hoping my comment will make him uncomfortable enough to drop it.
"Your cycle should be at mid-ovulation, Princess. So try again, and this time the truth." OMG, is nothing sacred from this control freak!
"Seriously, Alexei, that's a whole new level of fucked up."
"Language. Now the truth. Don't make me ask you again."
I tap my nails on the smooth leather, deciding on a partial truth. "I'm struggling, Alexei," my voice reveals a slight tremor, which is also true. "I had to take a moment to get my shit together. It's getting hard knowing that this will be one of the last times I'll be just me, you know?"
"Princess," he speaks after a moment's pause, his tone softening, "it's for the best. Like me, not everyone can handle your spark. We're the same, and once bonded, we can be a safe place for each other."
Taking a deep breath, I begin counting backward from 10. I hate that he's right. Even though I've had multiple hookups, I've had to hold back each time, never able to be free with my... Gifts. "I know."
"Good. I want you to call me once you arrive at the cabin. And мой маленький спитфайр, remember, I have eyes everywhere." How can I forget? There's never a moment I don't feel them on me.
A thought pops into my head, an unsettling idea building in the pit of my stomach. "Alexei, does the pack know about me, about us? Because I need to know what to sa..." Before I can finish, he ends the call. "Asshole!" I shout to no one, then follow it up with a growl. All I wanted was a little heads-up to know what to say if any questions are asked. Why does he have to be such a controlling jerk?
As I cruise through the town of Black Mountain, a grin stretches across my face, and it's as if I'm gliding through Santa's enchanting village. The buildings, coated in a delicate layer of snow, showcase festive cheer with holly wreaths and fairy lights adorning their exteriors. Vibrantly colored ornaments dangle from the awnings of the shop fronts, swaying gracefully in the gentle breeze.
Navigating onto the Spur, my baby maneuvers through the slick frost with expertise, silently expressing gratitude to Alexei for arranging the switch to winter treads. Surveying the landscape, it's evident that a traditional Christmas awaits. The signs unmistakably manifest themselves not just along the road but also within the encompassing forest. The towering pine trees and silver birches stand adorned in a pristine white blanket of snow.
Despite our familiarity with the road, our small convoy slows as we navigate the twisting turns. I toot my horn when the GPS signals the turnoff to the cabin, informing the others of my departure.
Earlier at the Roadhouse, I conveyed Ava and the boys that I would drop my belongings off at the cabin before joining them for dinner at Griffin's treehouse. Both vehicles reduce speed as I turn off, and I wave to Ava and Griffin, smiling at them in my rearview mirror as they pass. Shifting my focus back to the unmade road ahead, I slowly guide my vehicle along the narrow, winding path leading to the cabin.
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Momentarily catching my breath, I absorb the sight of the simple A-framed log cottage as I enter the circular stone driveway. The homely structure, with its bright red door, perfectly matches Ava's description. Everything appears immaculate and orderly, from the balcony above the porch to the neatly stacked logs by the entrance. Halting in front of the steps, I switch off the ignition and open my car door, welcoming the afternoon chill as it fills my lungs.
Rubbing my hands together, I dart towards the door and swiftly locate the key beneath the welcome mat, grateful to find it exactly where Siobhan said it would be. With a smile, I swing open the door and take in the small yet charming interior, amused at the thought of Alexei's reaction to the less-than-5-star accommodations. Despite my refined tastes, I've always had an affinity for nature and its eclectic allure. This cabin embodies everything the Spur represents.
Surveying the open-plan room, comprising a kitchen, lounge, dining area, and a small laundry space, I'm grateful once more to find the cobblestone fireplace already ablaze, radiating a comforting warmth. Clearly, either Siobhan or Eileen had visited recently.
Swiftly returning to my car, I retrieve my luggage and haul the heavy cases up the wooden staircase to the master bedroom, depositing them in a corner with the intention of unpacking later, if ever. Organization and cleaning have never been my forte; that was always Ava's domain, not mine.
Descending downstairs and rummaging for something to eat, I'm pleasantly surprised to discover the fridge and pantry stocked with both nonperishable and fresh produce. While I may not be a chef, I certainly know how to whip up a mean grilled cheese when hunger strikes. Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, I take a bite before heading back outside.
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The journey to Griffin's, now also Ava's, treehouse proves surprisingly easy and relatively quick, taking only 15 minutes to reach. The roads are thankfully devoid of snow, appearing recently plowed, and with the air more dry than damp, it aids my driving, allowing me to maintain my usual pace—FAST.
Gliding down the drive, I park my car next to the others, and my mouth falls open at the sight of the modern, sleek marvel before me. Ava described the treehouse as unique, but this design could easily grace the pages of Vogue. It's a captivating blend of wood, steel, and glass, a two-story, split-level house seamlessly integrated into the mountainside. I want one. Right now!
Ascending the porch, the front door swings wide, revealing Ava's radiant face, her white teeth flashing as she welcomes me. "You found it."
"Wasn't hard. I do know how to follow directions."
"Whatever," she rolls her eyes, seizing my arm and practically pulls me inside. Once again, I'm captivated by the modern design. While the cabin exudes classic rustic charm, the treehouse embodies a polished, modern urban vibe. Stepping into the living room, I find Shay sprawled on the modular leather couch, beer in one hand, remote in the other, engrossed in some sporting event. He greets me with a tip of his bottle, inviting me to the seat next to him with a broad smile on his handsome face.
Still in Ava's firm grip, I wink at Shay before directing my attention to the kitchen, where my eyes widen at the sight of the mountain bustling around, preparing food. Raising a brow at Shay and nodding towards Griffin, he smirks. "What can I say? The boss is house trained."
"You know it wouldn't kill you to go in there and give him a hand," Ava quips, releasing my arm and directing me to the couch.
"And allow all this masculinity to soften? Last time I checked, I didn't have a vagina."
"To be able to care for your mate is what makes you a man," Griffin's deep voice resonates from the kitchen.
"Tell that to the rest of the pack," Shay jokes, "and anyway, that's why your the boss. You're special."
Without a word, Griffin hurls an unpeeled carrot at Shay's head, the object moving so fast it blurs. Unfazed, Shay catches it one-handed before frowning. "Aww, you shouldn't have." Placing the carrot in his mouth and taking a bite, he smirks, "you know, I prefer wings when watching the game."
"Ciara, would you like a drink?" Griffin asks, ignoring Shay, his steel-blue gaze fixed on me.
"It's Erin, and no, I'm fine." Ignoring his light growl, I shift my focus back to Ava. "So where's Isla?"
"She's upstairs. Why don't you see what she's doing while I help in the kitchen? I assume that would be preferable to cooking with us or watching sport."
Blowing a raspberry, I notice Ava's smirk, her way of letting me know she understands my aversion to home duties. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I gesture toward her and head towards the staircase leading to the second floor.
Upon reaching the top, I encounter multiple doors along the long hallway and start making my way down. As I approach a partially closed door on my left, I hear Isla before seeing her.
"Sister, welcome."
Pushing the door open wider and stepping inside, I find Isla sitting at a desk with multiple screens surrounding her. The room serves as a home office with wall-to-floor bookshelves, divided into two workspaces. One is clean and neat, with a single laptop resting on its surface, while the other, the desk where Isla is sitting, looks like every computer nerd's wet dream—complete with a girl.
Smiling, I step closer to get a better look at what she's working on as her fingers glide across one of two keyboards in front of her. I shake my head, my eyes squinting as I try to decipher what I'm seeing.
"It's code, sister," Isla offers, her typing never ceasing.
"Code for what?" I question, amazed by the speed at which she's working.
"Security," she replies, offering no further explanation. I swear I see the national security logo flash up before the screen changes, opening onto a standard desktop. Pausing her movements, Isla turns to me and smiles, "I'm glad you're here."
Taking the vacant chair from the second workspace, I pull it out and take a seat, twisting it to face her. "Me too, so, whose desk is that?" I ask, pointing to the very tidy, very minimal space.
"Brother's," she says, turning so we're facing each other.
"Griffin's?" I ask, my eyebrow raised. I always thought of the mountain as a mountain man. This space doesn't fit that profile.
"Yes, he uses it for work."
"What work does he do?"
Smiling brightly, Isla waves her hand around the office. "He creates."
"You might need to elaborate a bit more," I chuckle.
"This house is one of his," Isla responds.
Blinking several times and scanning the room, I notice, for the first time, several architecture books neatly arranged on the shelves, accompanied by framed building designs on the walls. "Griffin's an architect?"
"Yes, he creates," she affirms, her head tilting and her grey eyes flashing with pride.
Well, fuck me. Who would have thought the big guy would be so talented? Offering my own smile, I pose a question that's been gnawing at me since this morning. "Isla, why didn't you tell Griffin about me?" The whole drive, amidst my thoughts on Alexei, I've been wondering. After Griffin and Ava made peace, why didn't Isla inform him that she knew who I was?
"He needed to focus on his bond."
"And the knowledge of who I was would've affected that?" I ask, biting my bottom lip, unsure if I want to know the answer.
"Yes," Isla chirps, reaching out to take my hands in hers. "You were our world, Sister; it almost broke him when отец sent you away." Giving a gentle squeeze, she smiles again. "He, they needed time, and I knew we would meet again."
For some random reason, her response makes sense, even if I still don't quite understand my, no, our, past. The conversations I had with Ava over the recent weeks were minimal, her focus being on her mate, and I understood that. I guess adding the sudden reappearance of a missing sibling would have made things complicated.
Nodding, I cautiously venture into another question, aware of the unsettling things Ava has shared. "Isla, what was our father like?" I know, it may sound simplistic, but the child within me craves assurance that I'm not born of evil.
Isla's expression shifts, her smile fading as her eyes drift into a distant focus. Her grip on my hands tightens, bordering on painful. "Isla?"
Eyes still slightly glazed, she inhales deeply several times before responding, "Oтец was like a coin."
"A coin?"
She nods, her teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. "Yes, a coin, with two sides. Most people only saw one."
Before I can delve further, Isla blinks again and tilts her head, her eyes clearing, and the smile returning. Standing, her hands still on mine and guiding me to the door, she adds, "Morgan's here."
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