Every time I talk to my friends, Jessie and Gretta, they ask about me seeing my people here in the city, and I have to make up some lie about why I haven’t had a chance to do that. They want photos of Times Square and Central Park, but I can’t leave this shop.

Maybe I can get Violet to help me get some backdrop photos, and I can add myself in with some editing.

I have most of the pattern pieces cut out for Violet’s dress, and I’ve been draping and pinning them to get a sense of where the embroidery needs to stop for the seam allowance.

I have that almost finished on the bodice pieces but Violet hasn’t finalized the colors and design for the skirt and veil. I only have a few weeks left before this needs to be done. I don’t want to cut it too close.

Despite the stress of the time crunch and the overall cramped feeling of living in a bridal shop for a month and a half, I’vefound some sort of routine in this situation. They brought me a cot to use as a bed in the break room, which is basically my main living space.

I use washcloths and some toiletries I’ve also been given to wash up in the sink each morning, washing my hair when I can, then making coffee and breakfast while I plan my day.

Marly stopped in once to see how the project was going. I think she felt guilty making me work alone, but at the same time, I could see dollar signs dancing in her eyes.

I’ve barely been on social media. I mostly post about the “top secret project for Jessie” I’m working on, but that’s it. I make sure to turn off the location on my posts.

Jessie and Gretta know where I am, but Violet swore them to secrecy before they signed the contract. They can’t tell anyone, and my friends back there have also been sworn to secrecy.

Being here alone makes me think about them often. I’m actually surprised by how much I’ve missed these people who don’t even really know who I am. They’ve never seen me change.

They don’t know I’m an exile. They know me as “Heather, the seamstress who loves thrift stores and the diner.” That’s it. Still, I’ve become undeniably attached to them, which makes it all the more terrifying that I may never see them again.

And that brings me to my parents. Everything I think about in this city leads back to them. Every relationship I think aboutleads back to them. I never really had a chance to say goodbye when I ran. They must have known I’d be exiled but I don’t think that makes it any better.

Trey says they never stopped looking for me. On the one hand, I’m glad they’ve kept faith. On the other hand, it’s incredibly sad to know they’ve spent all this time looking for me.

What if there’s some way to let them know I’m here without them mentioning it to anyone else? I don’t believe they’d put me in any danger if they knew I was here, and I don’t think Trey has guards outside the door anymore.

He seems much more lax as of late. I could always ask him if he can arrange something, but then again that would make him wary if he refuses.

If I send them a message, he could easily find out. I don’t know if he’s tracking communications in and out of this place and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has some kind of tap on the internet lines and my phone.

I could ask Violet to get them a message, but that poses the same issue as asking Trey.

The only way to do this is to sneak out and go to them in person. If I put on a hoodie and mind my own business, no one will notice me.

That’s how people in the city are. I can’t change on pack land because the Alpha will feel it. I don’t think Trey knows what my wolf looks like, but he’ll surely recognize my scent.

Going to my parents as a human poses a risk but at least being in disguise shows I made some effort. If I change, there’s no recourse for that action. I get ready, throwing on black leggings and a dark hoodie with the hood up and my hair tucked inside.

I leave the shop, keeping my head down to avoid the various traffic cams and security cams on other buildings.

I can’t believe it. I’m walking down Greenwich Avenue, headed to my childhood townhouse to see my parents. I walk faster as I get farther from the shop, spurred on by my excitement to reach them. No one notices me.

I’m just another person weaving through the crowds, not making eye contact with anyone else. It’s the norm in this city.

I get to the townhouse, and I can’t get up the nerve to climb the concrete steps and knock. I watch from behind some bushes across the street, using my wolf senses to see and hear what’s going on.

A few minutes later, I see a couple approaching and recognize them instantly. My heart clenches.

They are walking down the sidewalk, carrying their reusable grocery bags, a fresh loaf of Italian bread sticking out of one.They’re probably coming back from their favorite deli down the block.

Yes, I can smell that too. My father is obsessed with that Genoa salami and provolone cheese. He always has been.

A tear rolls out of my eye as I watch them, forgetting that I’d planned to tell them I’m alive and in the city. They look so happy, doing their normal things on a normal day.

I tune in to what they’re saying and am shocked to find them talking about Trey becoming Alpha and what he might change.

“Do you really think he’d change the laws his father helped enact?” My mother sounds elated.