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I start throwing things into a smaller bag. Clothes first, whatever’s closest, then I pause, thinking.

Rodeo. Crowds. Alphas.

My jaw tightens slightly as I reach into the drawer and grab a pair of scent-blocking panties, tossing them in without overthinking it. Better safe than dealing with… whatever the hell that turns into.

I zip the bag and sling it over my shoulder, heading back out before they can decide to leave me behind.

They’re still working when I get back, like I was only gone a minute. Tripp pauses when I walk past him, eyes dropping briefly to the bag on my shoulder.

“You moving in?” he asks.

“Don’t push it.”

He grins, then looks back toward what he’s doing.

“Get in,” Clint says, passing near me and there’s this faint warmth in the air, coffee with too much vanilla. It’s subtle, almost nothing, but I catch it anyway. Tripp brushes past next, quicker, his citrus scent lighter. And Briggs⁠—

I frown slightly, shaking it off.

It’s nothing, it has to be.

I climb into the truck, bag at my feet, the seat warm under me, or maybe that’s just me. I press my thighs together without thinking, chasing that restless feeling sitting low in my stomach.

My mind drifts back to my bag, to my pills, or the fact that they’re not there, rather. A knot forms in my gut, sharp and uncomfortable.

And my brother still hasn’t answered me.

I press my lips together, irritation flaring hot under my skin. I texted him. Called him. Nothing.

What the hell is he doing that’s more important than answering his phone?

Gidge too, now that I think about it, straight to voicemail every damn time. Which feels suspicious, and I really don’t have the emotional bandwidth for this right now

My fingers curl against my thigh. I’m not just annoyed—I’m running out of time, and he knows that after all the messages I’ve left. Plus, he’s the one who picked up my last refill.

“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath.

A clinic would take time, appointments, paperwork, and approval. Especially out here. Rural, and everything slower than it should be. Without my original prescribing doctor or pack authorization, it’s not like I can just walk in and get more.

I’ll figure it out. There has to be a clinic somewhere, even out here. A pharmacy. Something. It might take a minute, might not be immediate, but I’ll be fine.

I still have time.

I shift again, trying to ignore the way my body feels just slightly off. Something’s not right. I know that, but I don’t have another option.

Clint starts the truck, the engine rumbling as the trailer shifts behind us.

“Everyone good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tripp answers.

Briggs nods.

I stare straight ahead. “Yeah.”

The truck starts moving, gravel crunching under the tires as we pull out.

Chapter