Page 3 of Taken By the Pack

He moves efficiently, offloading the containers one by one, and then counts out the money before handing it over without another word. I tuck it into my pocket, nodding once.

“Stay dry out there,” he calls as I climb back into the truck.

“Yeah,” I reply, slamming the door shut.

The drive back to the lighthouse is slow. The storm’s not here yet, but the wind’s picking up, rattling the trees along the road.

By the time I park, the waves are already crashing harder against the rocks.

I unload what’s left in the truck—just a few supplies I picked up last week. The lighthouse door creaks as I push it open, the familiar smell of salt and old wood greeting me.

The storm’s gonna be a bad one. If it lasts through the night, it’ll scare off the fish, making tomorrow’s haul harder than it needs to be.

I glance at the clock. Still early enough to get some work done around here, but my mind’s elsewhere—on the sea, on the darker waters I’ll never sail into again, no matter how much they call to me.

2

GRACE

The bell over the door jingles as I nudge it open with my hip, balancing a tray of freshly potted violets in one hand and my tea mug in the other.

“Morning, Haven,” I say, like I do every day. Talking to the shop like it’s a person makes me sound nuts, but it’s comforting.

It’s mine—my safe spot.

I set the violets on the counter by the window, their leaves catching the sunlight just right. Warmth fills the shop, but there’s a breeze slipping through the cracked window.

It’s the perfect balance. Outside, the clouds are gathering, but that’s a problem for later.

The kettle hisses in the corner, and I glance at my half-empty mug. Chamomile and a splash of honey.

My usual. I’m not even halfway awake yet, but this? This is my ritual. Sip, sort the new stock, and open the doors to the town.

“Grace! You’re gonna burn the damn tea again,” Jake’s voice calls from the doorway.

I glance over my shoulder, smiling. “First of all, rude. Second, how’d you even get in here?”

“Door was unlocked. You’re slippin’, Halloway,” he says, leaning against the frame, a brown paper bag in hand. “Brought you breakfast. Figured you’d forget to eat again.”

I roll my eyes, but my stomach betrays me with a growl. “Fine, what is it?”

“Egg sandwich. Bacon. Extra cheese. Just the way you like it.” He smirks as he makes his way to the counter.

“You’re too good to me,” I say, taking the bag.

“Damn right,” he says, his tone teasing but his eyes soft. It’s the same look he always gives me, and I pretend not to notice.

Jake’s harmless. Comfortable. Sweet, even. But he’s an Alpha, and Alphas are… not safe.

“You staying for tea, or are you just dropping off food?” I ask, unwrapping the sandwich.

He grins. “Got the stall to get back to. Rhys’ll kill me if I’m not there to unload the fish he’s obsessed with lately.”

“Still running his empire like a tyrant?”

Jake laughs and shakes his head. “Pretty much. Don’t know why people keep buying that overpriced lobster. You’d think they’d get sick of it.”

“Not if he keeps plating it like art,” I say, taking a bite of the sandwich.

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