Faded Jeans & Guitar Strings

On Friday afternoon you’re sitting on the loveseat in the living room with a book in your hands when Raul comes in from god only knows where. He’s drenched from head to toe, and you can’t help the small snort of laughter that leaves you at the sight of him. He moves from the front door through the kitchen, he’s gone for a few minutes and you assume he must have stopped in the mud room. He then makes his way to the living room; a scowl permanently etches its way across his features once he sees you. You frown. You don’t understand why he hasn’t let up by now. Your eyes drift back down to your book, it’s one Allison let you borrow but you’re having a hard time getting into it. You can feel Raul’s eyes burning holes into the back of your head and you shift uncomfortably. “It’s rude to stare at people,” you say, heaving a deep sigh.

“It’s rude to laugh at them too,” he bites back. The first sentence he’s said to you in weeks and it’s bathed in distaste. He walks around the loveseat, plants himself on the middle of the couch, and turns on the TV. He’s dried off now and looks less like a wet dog, though his usually slicked back hair lays wild against his forehead.

You slam your book shut and place it on the coffee table separating the two of you, Raul doesn’t even flinch at the noise. You let out a low growl and set a dark gaze on Raul’s face. “Okay, what is your damage, dude? What’s your problem with me?” His failure to answer only makes you angrier by the second. “I have been here for weeks and you’re still treating me like an outsider.”

“Because you’re still acting like one!” Raul shoots back with a glare, his voice booms like thunder. He tosses the remote aside and turns to face you. “You stay to yourself; you don’t come down for breakfast or dinner, you don’t join us when we go into town, you don’t come on runs or sit in on movie nights or anything else we’ve invited you to. Allison told me that the only “conversation” you two have had is when she told you to help yourself to the books on the shelf in your room, and you didn’t even bother to thank her.” At the mention of Allison’s name, you cringe, she’s your roommate and you haven’t so much as talked to her since the first day.

Raul stands, the show he was watching on the TV plays on idly. “I guess you really don’t need anyone, do you, Y/N?” Your mouth snaps shut. “That’s what I thought.”

You sit back and watch Raul walk across the room and disappear up the stairs. You’re shocked that he had the guts to speak to you like that, and worse, that he is absolutely right. It’s been three weeks and you stay holed up in your bedroom most of the time, you sneak downstairs to eat or do laundry when you think no one else is home. Today is the first day you’ve actually sat and done anything that isn’t confined to the space you created in your room.

You sigh and shake your head, reaching for your book again. You know Shawn’s standing behind you; you knew the minute his scent filled the room. The brothers smell alike, but they each have something unique that separates them from each other―for Peter it’s mint, for Raul it’s tree sap, and for Shawn it’s cinnamon. “What do you want, Shawn?” The question leaves your lips harsher than you intended, but at this point you couldn’t care less.

Shawn moves around the loveseat and stands in front of you, his arms are folded over his chest and his forehead wrinkles in agitation. You learned early on that the Mendes triplets don’t take kindly to anyone treating the other two poorly, especially not Raul and Shawn. “Raul’s right, you know? You asked me why he treats you the way he does, well he just told you. It wasn’t easy for Raul and Peter to leave; it was even harder for them to return. But they did. I may be the one who makes the final decisions around here, but I wouldn’t do it without the approval of my brothers. It doesn’t seem like it now, but Raul is the way he is because he cares.”

You scoff, and Shawn raises his eyebrows at you. He takes a seat on the end of the coffee table and waits for you to continue. “Raul doesn’t give off the vibe of someone who cares about anything or anyone other than himself,” you say. Then quickly add, “Except you and Peter.”

“Try talking to him one of these days. It might surprise you to learn differently.”

“I’ve tried talking to him, I never get anywhere beyond a few monosyllabic grunts and glares full of disdain for my existence.”

“Have you tried talking to him without that defensive wall you put up to keep everyone out?”

“I do not put up a defensive wall,” you state, taking offence at Shawn’s words. He raises his eyebrows again and gestures between the two of you. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you realize Shawn already knows you better than you thought he did. “Oh,” you squeak.

“If you want Raul to be more trusting of you, maybe you should start by being more trusting of us. Tonight is our weekly movie night, you should come watch.” He pats your knee and stands up to leave.

“How do you do it?” you ask suddenly. Shawn stops at the foot of the stairs, waiting for you to finish. “How do you share the responsibility of leading the pack with your brothers? Especially when one of them is Raul? He doesn’t strike me as the cooperative type.”

Shawn pulls his eyebrows together and carefully considers his answer to your question, when he looks up at you again, his eyes display an emotion that you aren’t sure you’ve seen on him before―a mixture of fear and determination. He squares his shoulders and breathes in deeply. “For the longest time, my brothers and I were all each other had. It was just the three of us and our parents; Mom and Dad focused on running the pack, and we focused on being kids. There weren’t any other children here, just us. We were born; we learned; we grew―together.

“When Mom and Dad decided to move, they left this place to the three of us, we got to decide what happened to it. Raul was the first to leave, Peter followed shortly after. I stayed behind to keep the house and what was left of our pack running in case they ever decided to come home. When my brothers left, it was like parts of me left with each of them . . .”

You swallow thickly; there’s a bitter taste in your mouth at the overwhelming emotions rolling off of Shawn now. You consider telling him he doesn’t have to continue, but you don’t. You stay quiet, wondering how any of this is supposed to answer your question or help you with Raul.

You look up as Peter descends the stairs and takes his place behind Shawn, resting his right hand on his brother’s left shoulder. You study the way Shawn’s demeanour changes at Peter’s presence, his calculated expression relaxes and he leans toward his younger brother.

“Raul and I weren’t here when our parents died, Shawn was left to take care of everything himself. I made the choice to return home first, handed down leadership of my pack and never looked back. Allison was the only one who came with me.” Peter stops, shifting his gaze from you to Shawn’s face. When Shawn nods, he continues, “As the days passed, Shawn steadily became weaker and weaker. You see, Raul came home much later; the news of our parents’ death hit him a little harder and he needed extra time to sort himself out. But Shawn wasn’t getting better by just having me around, so I tracked Raul down and told him he needed to come see him. If not permanently, then at least for a visit, just to let us know he was okay. He made the decision to stay that night.”

“Raul blames himself for being why I got so sick after Mom and Dad died, he’s hard on himself because he thinks he has to make up for it. He’s hard on everyone else because he never wants to see either of us broken like that again. When I say Raul won’t trust you until you trust us, until you act like you’re one of us, I mean it.” Shawn turns to Peter and gives him a gentle nudge with his shoulder, then slips past him and heads upstairs.

“Peter, I . . .” your voice trails. You look everywhere but at the younger man across the way. What can you say? Is there anything to say? You sigh. “If I had known―”

Peter shakes his head. “Face it, Y/N, it wouldn’t matter if you knew our story or not. You decided a while ago that you’re only staying long enough for whatever happened back home to die down. You want to be here even less than Raul wants you here.”

You don’t bother denying his claim, he’s telling the truth and something tells you he’d see through any lie you try to feed him. You ball your fists.

“I suggest you reconsider whether or not you truly want a place here with us. If you don’t, then maybe you should look for help somewhere else. Shawn won’t immediately throw you out, but if you can’t figure things out with Raul . . .” Peter turns back the way he came earlier. “By the way, can I offer you some advice? Should you choose to stay, maybe start by being nicer to Allison. If Raul doesn’t take kindly to people treating me and Shawn with disrespect, imagine how much that extends to his girlfriend.”

Your head snaps up in time to see Peter’s retreating form vanish into the darkness at the top of the stairs.

The rest of the day flies by without incident, and you retire to your room. After your discussion with the brothers, you wanted to give yourself time to reflect on everything that had been said. You hadn’t realized how hard leading an entire pack of wolves could be, let alone having to do so because the people you were supposed to be learning from had died.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t notice the door opening and closing, nor do you hear when Allison quietly greets you from across the room. It isn’t until you roll over to look for where you left your book that you even see the other girl perched on the end of her bed.

Peter’s warning returns, you flinch. “H-hey, Allison. Just getting in? How was work?”

She doesn’t immediately respond, surprised to hear you speak to her. She stares at you blankly trying to decide if she should take the bait or leave it be; you see in her eyes when her decision is made. Allison shuffles to the foot of her bed so she’s close by and flops down onto the mattress.

“Work fucking sucked.” You’re a little surprised by her candour. She stares at you again and you both erupt into a fit of giggles. It’s the first time you’ve said more than two words to each other, you like her.

You reach in the drawer of your nightstand and pull out a pack of gummy worms, you hold it out to her with a smile. “Tell me about it?”

Allison’s face lights up. She digs into the gummy worms and scowls. “Men,” she says abruptly. Another laugh leaves her.

“Men.” You nod. You don’t tell her Raul is who comes to mind when you say it, you just sit there boldly offering your support in quiet solidarity. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

A knock sounds at your bedroom door. You and Allison have been so wrapped up in your conversation, neither of you have bothered to venture downstairs. You’re not sure what time it is, but a quick glance out the window lets you know it’s after sunset―the sky is a brilliant watercolour painting as the sun dips below the horizon.

“Ali?” Raul’s voice filters through the door. “I didn’t know you were home.”

Allison looks over at you and blushes. She scrambles off of her bed and opens the door; Raul is standing rigidly in the hallway, the fire of worry burns bright in his eyes. He glances over Allison’s shoulder and spots you sitting there. He’s immediately defensive of the girl in front of him.

“Everything okay?”

“Mmhm.” Allison steps into Raul’s arms, melts against his chest and sighs. The tension she’s been carrying since before arriving home, dissipates the moment she presses against Raul’s strong frame. “We were just talking, and lost track of time. Sinto muito, Raul.”

Raul hums softly and noses into her hair. “Está tudo bem. Eu só vim para ter certeza de que você está bem.”

“Obrigado, meu amor.”

“Dinner will be done soon. It’s movie night, Shawn’s pick.”

Allison smiles at the gentle kiss Raul places on the back of her hand as he steps back. “We’ll be there.”

When she closes the door again, you stare blankly up at her.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head to one side.

“I― He― What the hell was that?” you say, taken aback by Raul’s gentle display of affection.

Allison laughs at your reaction. “He’s not all bad, you know? You just have to get to know him.”

“Get to know hi―”

“I know. Crazy, right? He wasn’t always such a tough, rough-around-the-edges guy. He’s always been sweet, but he used to be a little softer. But that was before―“

Allison’s abrupt pause hangs in the air. She looks as if she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She blanches. “Shit. I shouldn’t have― it’s not my story to tell.”

You blink. Oh. You reach forward and squeeze her hand reassuringly, giving her a soft smile. “It’s okay. Peter and Shawn told me earlier. I― can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for them, for Raul . . . How awful.”

Allison swallows and squeezes your hand in return. “Thanks. Come on, let’s head down before Shawn sends the boys up to retrieve us.”

“What, like an escort to supper?” You snort back a laugh.

“Exactly an escort to supper,” she deadpans.

Your eyes go wide, you scramble off of your bed and throw the door open. “Shit.”

After dinner, you join the pack in cleaning the kitchen. Talk has been sparse since you walked in the room, everyone shocked and surprised by your attendance. You spent the evening nestled between Allison and Sasha at the table, across from Shawn, and even joined in conversation when directed at you. You could feel Raul’s gaze burning holes in your skin for the duration of the meal, but did your best to ignore it.

Now, on the sofa, smooshed between the arm and Raul’s side, you wait for the movie to start. Allison peeks over at you from where she sits snuggled into the oldest triplet’s lap and gives you a thumbs up. You feel the uncertainty and hesitation to trust you rolling off of him in waves, but do your best to remain as calm and relaxed as possible.

“It’s Shawn’s turn to pick the movie and he chose . . .” Peters voice trails off as he unfolds the small slip of paper Shawn handed to him on their way into the living room, “. . . Zombieland?”

“Zombieland, Shawn, are you serious?” Chris asks to your left on the loveseat.

Shawn playfully flashes his canines and the pack erupts into a fit of laughter. It’s so weird seeing them all loose and without a care, very different from your first day with them.

“All right, all right. Peter, start the movie.”

The youngest brother does as told and skips his way back to the loveseat next to Chris. You’re taken by surprise when the taller man shifts to rest his back against the arm of the two-seater, and extends his legs forward, allowing Peter to settle in between them against his chest. They feel you staring and turn to face you; Chris’s eyes flash protectively, and Peter stares back at you with a questioning gaze of his own.

Raul stiffens beside you. “Is there a problem here?” His inquiry raises everyone’s attention, and Shawn leans forward to see you around Allison’s tiny frame. The room stills, the air grows cold. You realize you’ve made an unintended error when you feel vibration coursing through Raul’s body and into your own―a warning growl.

Quick thinking has you reaching behind you for one of the three pillows tucked behind your back, and the small blanket folded on the back of the couch behind your head. You offer the items to the men next to you with what you hope is a friendly smile.

To Chris, you say, “I fell asleep on the loveseat earlier, that arm is uncomfortable.” And hand him the pillow. To Peter, “I noticed you rubbing your arms. Temperature is supposed to drop some more, here.”

The duo does little by way of responding, except to take the pillow and blanket from you with a nod. You can’t believe how close you came to your reaction starting something horrible on movie night. You turn to Raul.

“I’m not as much of a bitch as you think, I am. I’ll prove it to you someday.”

He huffs and returns his nose to the crown of Allison’s head; movie night begins.

Halfway through the movie everyone decides to take a break to refill their snacks or use the bathroom, and you offer to help Shawn in the kitchen. You’re standing at the stove making another batch of homemade hot cocoa when you’re enveloped in a cocoon of cinnamon. You hum softly in spite of yourself, and return to stirring the pot in hopes he hasn’t noticed.

“Want to tell me what that was all about before?” he asks easily.

You sigh. Of course, he’d want to talk to you about your display with his brother. “I knew Peter was dating someone, I just didn’t know or expect it to be Chris.”

“Why? Because they’re both men?”

You breathe out sharply through your nose. “No. Because they don’t seem like it. They don’t do what normal couples do.”

Shawn raises his eyebrows. “Normal couples?”

His proximity is flustering, you know this won’t end well if he continues to be so close. You take a step back and busy yourself refilling the pack’s mugs. “You know, they’re not as openly affectionate. Take Raul and Allison, he has no problem hugging her, kissing her, touching her hand or hair in front of me. I never see things like that from Peter or Chris, that’s all. I was just surprised to see him dating someone within the pack.”

Shawn’s quiet, uncomfortably so, for too long. When you turn to face him, he’s gone. You hadn’t noticed him leave and wonder if it was something you said. You shake the uneasiness from your mind and carry the tray back into the living room. Movie night resumes without another hitch.

TBTP: @marcellarv @yournameoneverypage @im-salt-but-not-salty

“Dinner will be done soon. It’s movie night, Shawn’s pick.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been running when you finally see it: the Mendes house. Up to this point, it’s always been a myth. An idea in the form of a dream in your head, but there you are. You’re barely able to make it through the gate and into the yard when your vision goes black at the edges, you fall in a crumpled heap in the snow.

When day breaks the following morning, the sun feels warm on your skin and you snuggle further into the blankets around you. Blinking your eyes open, you slowly take in your surroundings. The first thing you notice is the room you’re in isn’t yours, the second thing is you don’t recognize the scent in the air (but it’s pleasant), the third thing is how much pain you’re in. As the shock wears off, the only thing you think to do is scream. At the sound of your screaming, footsteps thunder down the hall toward the room. There are too many to count and you’re too freaked out about where you are and how you got there to make a run for it.

When day breaks the following morning, the sun feels warm on your skin and you snuggle further into the blankets around you. Blinking your eyes open, you slowly take in your surroundings. The first thing you notice is the room you’re in isn’t yours, the second thing is you don’t recognize the scent in the air (but it’s pleasant), the third thing is how much pain you’re in. As the shock wears off, the only thing you think to do is scream. At the sound of your screaming, footsteps thunder down the hall toward the room. There are too many to count and you’re too freaked out about where you are and how you got there to make a run for it.

Three bodies burst into the room without knocking, and catch you off guard. You scramble across the side of the bed and press yourself against the far wall. From your new vantage point, you can see the people that came rushing in moments ago. The boy closest to the door is shorter than the other two and has sandy-brown hair, and bright blue eyes. Next to him, you quickly decide is clearly his brother, twins maybe. They could be identical, though the second boy is taller by at least a few inches, with broader shoulders. And finally, your eyes sweep across the third intruder. He’s bigger than both of the previous boys, much bigger, and he’s staring at you with dark eyes. Your own eyes travel from his face and land on his bare chest covered in a light sheen of sweat, you can’t deny that he’s easy on the eyes. Shaggy dark brown curls stick to his forehead.

“Easy, easy,” he whispers. He holds his right hand out in front of him, approaching you slowly. “No one is going to hurt you, you’re safe here.”

Your eyes dart between the three of them, you’re in pain and confused. Something about the man directly in front of you feels familiar, it takes a few seconds for your brain to connect the dots that it’s his scent that was in the air when you woke up. This must be his room. You swallow thickly, keeping your eyes on his face.

“I’m Shawn. This is Zack and Jesse,” he introduces himself and the boys behind him raise their hands as he calls each of their names. “We’re not going to hurt you, okay? You’re safe,” he promises again.

There’s a warm timbre to Shawn’s voice, coupled with the aroma in the room, you calm down from your earlier panic. You nod, acknowledging the brothers and focus in on Shawn again. Your throat hurts from screaming, but there’s a question burning in the back of your mind. “W-where am I?”

Your voice is soft, but something about the looks shared between them tells you they heard you, anyway. They confirm your suspicions when the smaller of the brothers, Zack, gestures around the room.

“You’re at the Mendes Pack House,” he says the title so abruptly that for a moment you aren’t sure you heard him correctly.

“I’m― where?” Your mind is racing and you feel you could pass out at any second.

Shawn notices your discomfort and gives the boys a brusque nod, they both look you over one last time before leaving the two of you in the quiet comfort of his room. The door clicks shut and you return your eyes forward.

Shawn’s kneeling down at your level now, his russet brown eyes lock on your face. “Hey, hey, breathe.” He continues to watch your eyes, gauging your reaction as he takes slow deep breaths. “I know this is a lot to take in, I’m sorry if we startled you. Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you say, taking a deep breath. The room feels less suffocating now, you’re grateful.

“Nice to meet you. Do you have any questions?” he continues. He’s kept space between you, likely to let you know that you can run if you want to and he won’t stop you. But that same weird feeling from before tells you running would be a much dumber idea than sticking around.

You shake your head. When you try to think of something to ask him, a thick fog clouds your mind. You’re not sure why or how to stop it from happening. You sigh defeated and drop your hands into your lap.

“All right. Well, you must be starving and I’m sure you’d like to freshen up.”

This time you nod. You hadn’t realized it at first, but you feel like you haven’t eaten in days, then it dawns on you. “W-what day is it? Like, t-the date?”

“It’s Monday, December 11, 2018.”

“Monday? How long have I been here?”

“Three days. Zack found you in the snow around midnight on the 8th.”

You swallow and nod your head, afraid to put too much thought into it right then. With a shaky breath, you look up to meet Shawn’s concerned and tender gaze.

He reaches for you but quickly pulls back when you flinch away from him. He nods toward the adjacent wall and it’s then that you notice the second door. “The bathroom is through there; towels are on the rack above the toilet. I’ll see if I can find something for you to wear, and I’ll need to check over your injuries when you’re finished.” He stands up from the floor and turns to leave. “Take your time, okay? There’s no rush.”

You do your best to return Shawn’s friendly smile with one of your own and watch as he slips through the door, pulling it behind him. You give yourself a moment to calm down before standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You step inside and feel along the immediate wall for the light switch, and flip it up once you find it.

Shawn’s bathroom, like his bedroom, is a fairly good size. You place your hand down on the marble countertop, relishing in the cold of the flat surface against your skin. In the mirror, you can clearly see the bright read spot on your left cheek, you know it will bruise pretty badly in the next few days. You can’t imagine what the rest of you looks like. It takes a good five to ten minutes for you to peel your clothes off, your body is worn out and your muscles ache in protest. A hot shower will do some good.

An hour and a half later, you’re finished with your shower and ready to get out. You reach for the towel rack; your body listens better now. Along with the dirt, the hot shower washed away most of your pain. All that lingers now is a hunger headache you won’t be able to get rid of until you eat. You wrap the towel around your torso and step out of the shower. There’s a blue brush and a hair tie on the counter that weren’t there when you got in, you assume Shawn must have left them while you were taking your shower. You’re a bit surprised that you didn’t hear him come back in. Your hair, now clean, desperately needs detangling and you’ve always loved the feeling of pulling a brush through it.

A few minutes later, you finally emerge from the bathroom. Your hair is brushed and pulled up into a loose bun on top of your head. You didn’t bother trying to assess the extent of the damage done to your body, not quite ready to handle the state it’s in but you know it’s bad if Shawn was offering to tend to your injuries. With a sigh, you make your way over to the bed. You really must have been out of it when Shawn came back in, there’s a pair of grey sweats, a long-sleeved blue polo, and a hoodie laying on the foot of his bed. It looks like they’ll fit, but you won’t know for sure until you try them on. As you reach for the garments, you realize you don’t have any underwear to put on except what you had on earlier. Shawn must have thought of that too because there’s a brand new pair of small black boxer shorts laying there as well.

You hum softly to yourself as you get dressed, everything smells like Shawn and a little more, it’s oddly comforting.

There’s a knock at the door and you nearly jump out of your skin. You turn to see Shawn peeking through a small crack before opening it and stepping through. He smiles, and the apples of his cheeks slightly lift the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “Oh, good! They fit,” he says as he gestures to your clothes.

You nod. Though you find being in Shawn’s room makes you feel safe, you aren’t sure if you can trust him. You stare at him in silence, unsure of what you should say.

Shawn stops just inside the door. “I need to redress your wounds. Do you want to eat something first?”

You shake your head softly and sit on the end of the bed. Shawn waits for you to let him know you’re okay with him approaching you, and you do with a small nod. You reach for your left shoulder, you hadn’t looked for any of the more gruesome injuries, but the bite mark on it had caught your eye. You can’t remember what happened when you got it, but you know it was probably from one of the guys from― You shake the thought from your head and look up at Shawn.

You know you probably shouldn’t say anything, there’s no guarantee he will believe you but you need to know. You swallow. “I― There’s something you should know. A-about me. I’m not, um . . .”

Shawn smirks as he walks to your side with a first aid kit in his hands. “I know.” He chuckles lightly at your reaction and continues, “Zack could smell you before he could see you, and you were still shifted when he found you. You stayed that way for a while, I guess you finally shifted back in your sleep this morning.”

It makes sense enough, but something still bothers you. If you’ve been asleep for three days, why aren’t you healed yet? As if he can tell what you’re thinking, Shawn gently pats the mattress next to you.

“Hey, don’t worry about it right now. We’ll get you fixed up and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

Your gaze drops to your lap where you’ve folded your hands. Nervously you reach for the hem of the shirt you’re wearing and with Shawn’s help, you lift it over your head. You wince, your hand quickly shoots up to your shoulder. The bite is bleeding and the pain in your arm is noticeable again.

“Here, let me help.” Shawn reaches for you and his touch is soft, he turns you so that your back is to him. You blush slightly, remembering that you’re sitting half-naked in front of a total stranger. You’re thankful for his manners. He shuffles behind you for a couple seconds, then the bed dips behind you. One of his hands settles between your shoulder blades. “This is gonna sting like hell, but it’ll keep your shoulder from getting infected while you heal. Tell me when.”

You take a breath and nod your head. “Okay.”

Shawn brings his left hand up to your shoulder, and it’s warm against your skin. He’s rubbing something sticky into the wound, and you suddenly know why he braced his hand against you. The salve hurts, more than you expect, and you throw yourself back. Shawn’s hand presses between your shoulders, and his voice sounds softly by your ear. “I know, I know.” His hand snakes around your back and rests on your right shoulder, holding you to his chest as he continues to spread the paste into the bite. “I’m sorry, but I promise this will help.”

You whine in answer, but do your best to stay still. Shawn coos gently in your ear and you settle down a bit. As quickly as the pain started, it stops. You’re braced against Shawn’s chest, heaving. He has your head tucked under his chin, and he’s staring out of the window. You sit up with a shudder, the pain in your shoulder has died to a dull pulse, it’s annoying but tolerable. You glance behind you at Shawn and he’s looking down into the first aid kit, he pulls out a small jar and hands it to you.

“For the cut on your cheek,” he points to the side of his own face. “I don’t have anything for the bruises, but this salve will help you heal and keep infection from setting in. Make sure you let it dry completely before applying.”

“Thanks,” you say as you take it from him and slip your shirt on again. You want to ask him why he’s being so nice to you, but you don’t. You still don’t know if Shawn’s lying to you or not, and you can’t afford to take a chance on Patrick and Ethan finding you.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready. We need to have a meeting, and Sasha made breakfast.” He closes the first aid kit and gives you a firm nod, then heads for the door. He doesn’t bother pulling it shut behind him this time and it irks you. For as gentle as he was moments ago, he sure switched moods quickly. You wonder if being here is bad idea, but what other choice do you have? You know you can’t avoid the pack forever, and you are hungry. You have questions you’re sure Shawn has answers for.

You grab the hoodie that Shawn left on the end of the bed and head for the door. The hallway you’re in winds around a corner, Shawn’s room is at the end. You count four other doors on your way down, minus the bathroom at the top of the stairs, and you assume those must be bedrooms too.

You reach the bottom of the stairs and take a moment to mentally prepare for what’s coming. You’re not sure what the meeting is about but you know it’s important, Shawn’s attitude told you as much.

You round the corner and walk down the small hallway into the kitchen. In front of you is a room full of people, all seem to be around your age. You instantly recognize Zack and Jesse, the brothers you met earlier. And there’s a girl standing over a griddle of pancakes by the stove, you deduce that’s Sasha since Shawn mentioned she’d made breakfast. There’s a small group seated around the dining room table, most of them have their backs to you and you don’t care to interrupt whatever conversation they’re having. But it’s the trio sitting at the breakfast bar to your left that catches you off guard.

You know the shirtless one in the middle with the dark unruly curls is Shawn, and you must be suffering from a concussion because you see three of him. Immediately to his right, sits a smaller version of him, this one with softer curls and glasses. Hold on, did he redress my wounds? On the stool to Shawn’s left near the backdoor, is a yet another version of him, slightly taller but not quite as large, his own dark chocolate curls are slicked back.

They notice you staring and each of them grins at you knowingly. You can’t help but stand in stunned silence and gawk.

The girl turns to you, a plate stacked up with perfectly fluffy golden pancakes in her hands. She smiles and hands it to you. “Come on in, we don’t bite. There’s an open space at the bar between Shawn and Raul. I’m Sasha.” They both look up expectantly as she calls their names. “I hope you like pancakes.”

“There’s three of you!” you blurt suddenly, ignoring Sasha’s offer.

“We’re triplets.” Smaller Shawn hums, he’s got a book in his hands as he eats, glasses perched on the end of his nose. “How’s the shoulder?”

“You . . .”

The one Sasha called Raul stares at you, lips pulled into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed in . . . what is that, curiosity? Frustration? A mixture of the two? You’re not sure what to make of his expression as he regards you briefly before plopping his ass down on the stool behind him. It’s a show of dominance and disapproval, and you hate him. Just like Patrick. You think, face scrunching up in disgust.

Shawn glances between you and Raul, then elbows his brother in the side. “Scoot over, asshat. Let her sit.”

“Hmph,” Raul mutters and he glares at you, bringing his left hand down to rub lightly over his ribs. You duck your head under his heavy gaze.

“Raul,” Shawn growls. “Move.” He stands up from his stool and turns to the man next to him, sizing him up. He puffs up his chest, moving the stool back to give him some room. His mouth is open in a snarl, though his body language remains relaxed. He’s serious but he doesn’t think his brother poses a threat.

You watch quietly as Raul stands again and throws his barstool back; it comes to a stop behind him, Jesse’s hand on the surface of the seat. Raul is big, he’s not as muscular as Shawn is, but his broad shoulders and height make him just as intimidating, if not more so. You can see his sharp canines as he bares his teeth back at Shawn; brother challenging brother.

Raul reminds you of Patrick and your heart beats wildly inside of your chest. You’re not good with fighting, always staying as far away from it as possible. You’d tuck tail and run if you weren’t rooted to the floor with a plate of hot pancakes in your hands. It’s clear Raul means business as he steps toward Shawn, he shoves him back and returns Shawn’s growl with one of his own.

The smaller of the triplets stands and quickly steps between his brothers, his expression is one of boredom. He grabs them each by the arm and pushes them toward the sliding door. “If you’re going to fight like dogs, do it outside.” His tone is commanding, and you’re surprised when Shawn’s hand finds the door handle. You’re less surprised when Raul wrenches his arm free of his brother’s grasp.

“Back off, Peter.” Shawn.

“This is between me and Shawn.” Raul.

You commit their behaviours to memory as the attitude in the room changes. The atmosphere becomes stifling, everyone waits for the brothers to make their next move. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the way Shawn repeatedly clenches and unclenches his fists, the gears in his head turning at lightning speed. His eyes find yours across the room and you wonder if he’s holding back for your sake or if he’s actually considering pummeling Raul right where they stand. If he wants to beat his brother into the ground, he never gets the chance. One of the other men in the room stands from his place at the table, his voice booms over the growling pair.

“Enough! We have more important things to do than watching you two dicks thrash each other to kingdom come. In case either of you has forgotten, we still don’t know what’s going on here.” He turns to you with a friendly smile. “Forgive their raging testosterone, everyone’s a bit . . . on edge.”

“You’re the leaders of this pack, act like it,” Peter says, addressing his brothers as he sits back down at the bar. He takes what is meant to be your seat, the stool between Raul and Shawn. He looks up at you with kind eyes and a soft smile. “Sit and eat, please.” Peter nods to the stool next to him as Shawn takes his spot once again, leaving Raul by the back door.

“Animals,” Sasha states, shaking her head. She gives you a quick wink and turns back to the griddle.

The rest of breakfast is quiet, everyone falls back into what you assumed was their usual routines. If Raul has anything to say to or about you, he keeps it to himself. You learn from bits and pieces of conversation here and there that Raul is the oldest of the triplets and the most suspicious of newcomers. Peter is the youngest and probably the sweetest of the three, he’s quiet but he takes charge when he needs to. And he definitely took care of your shoulder. Shawn’s in the middle, he’s got a fire inside him like you’ve never seen before and it only pulls you in faster.

After breakfast you’re pleasantly surprised to find that everyone helps Sasha clean the kitchen. It’s a pack effort as dishes are washed, dried, and handed down the line to be put away. The stools returned to the breakfast bar, chairs tucked in around the dining table, and leftovers stashed away in the refrigerator for later.

Once all is said and done, the guy who stepped in to help Peter calm the fighting, Chris―ushers everyone to the living room.

You lean against the wall shared by the living room and the kitchen, surveying the group in front of you. Zack and Jesse sprawl out on the floor in front of a long L-shaped couch. Chris sits at one end of the couch with another guy you still have yet to meet, they’re close and you wonder how long they’ve known each other. Sasha and three other girls you hadn’t even noticed when you walked into the kitchen, all sit huddled together at the other end of the couch, you assume they’re either sisters or best friends, before remembering that this is how wolf packs are―affection comes with the territory. Shawn and his brothers sit in the middle of the couch, they forget their previous disagreement as they switch easily from typical brothers to leaders of their pack.

Raul quirks an eyebrow and looks at you suspiciously, you know it’s because they’re all waiting for you to sit down, the meeting is about you after all. You’re content to stand against the wall, in case you feel the need to run, you won’t have to worry about needing to stand first. You look back at Raul questioningly, wanting them to get it over with already, but he continues to stare at you.

“They won’t begin until you sit. I don’t know how things are done in your old pack, but here we wait until everyone is present and accounted for,” Sasha tells you softly. She nods toward the small loveseat sleeper sofa that’s angled by the short end of the L-shaped couch next to where Chris sits.

You stand up straighter with your back against the wall, you spread your feet apart, firmly planting yourself in that spot. You fold your arms across your chest and lift your chin. This display of defiance in front of the pack doesn’t go unnoticed by the Mendes brothers who shift uncomfortably, Raul and Peter turn to Shawn, waiting for him to regain control.

Shawn stands. The look in his eyes tells you he won’t allow this kind of outburst, but you’re not ready to accept your place in this pack. He steps away from the couch, staring you down, his demeanour in this moment is so different from way it was with Raul. He’s inviting you to challenge him, daring you to make the move he knows you so desperately want to.

He’s fed up with your obstinance; he growls low, a warning. Raul and Peter are the only ones who move next, they flank Shawn but keep their eyes locked on the others. “You can sit or you can run, it’s your call,” he says as he slowly moves closer.

You can tell it’s not the first time he’s dealt with something like this, his tone is far too commanding for this to be a one-off thing. He growls once again, louder this time, and you know it’s the last warning he’s willing to give you. All eyes are on you.

You push yourself off of the wall and walk over to the loveseat. Running isn’t an option for you, you need the help and you know this is the only place you can get it. You need their help if you’re going to stop Ethan and Patrick. You take a seat, keeping your eyes trained on Shawn’s face as you do.

Shawn relaxes his shoulders, a signal to his brothers to stand down. He’s satisfied with your decision, but keeps his guard up just in case. The three of them sit back down and the rest of the pack settles in.

“You already met Zack and Jesse, but this is the rest of our pack. Next to you are Chris and Sam, two of my best friends and the only people I trust almost as much as I trust my brothers.” At Shawn’s words, Chris and Sam acknowledge you with a small wave of their hands. “Raul and Peter left and started their own packs; I stayed and took over everything here when our parents left. Zack, Jesse, and Grace found their way to us about two years ago.” One girl next to Sasha perks up upon hearing her name. She’s smaller than the others, but you can tell she’s just as feisty.

“When I returned, Allison came back with me. When Raul came home, so did Sasha and Vicki. We made the best choice for all of us and joined together; when it comes to leading the pack, we decide together. But Shawn has the final say in what we do,” Peter says, finishing the introductions.

“Which means Shawn is the deciding factor on whether you stay or go. Everyone you see here means something to each one of us, we’re family. When someone in our family is threatened, we are all threatened.” Raul sits forward, eyeing you with the same skepticism from earlier.

Shawn gently nudges Raul in the side. “What my brother means to say is as long as you choose to be here, to be part of our pack―our family―you’re safe. You will have a place here just like everyone else. Ultimately, the choice is yours. We’ve all had hard lives at one time or another, we all know what it’s like to feel alone in this world, and we won’t turn you away.”

“If you stay, you’ll be part of our pack and expected to behave like it. But if you run, we won’t be able to help you.” Peter pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and settles back into the couch, you note the way he seems to shift closer to Shawn. You think it must be comforting, having two other people to be so close to, who share your DNA and can tell what you’re thinking from a simple look or a small touch.

“Obviously, you don’t have to accept the offer, but understand two very important things. Here, you’re safe. Out there, you’re on your own.” Shawn glances around the room, gauging everyone’s reactions to what’s been said. He receives various noises of affirmation, no one dares dispute his last word. He looks back at you, waiting for your answer.

You haven’t truly spoken since before you came downstairs, since you talked to Shawn in his room. You need protection, stability, family―but you can’t go home. This is as good as it gets unless you want to find somewhere else to be, someone else to take pity on you. The thought makes you cringe, you’re not a charity case, you’re a lone wolf running from exile. You should be dead, but you’re not and you’re unsure if that should mean something to you.

Movement to your right startles you, but Chris is quick to reconcile his mistake. He gently touches your knee, gaining your attention, and offers a soft smile. You know he’s silently speaking to the truth behind Shawn, Peter, and Raul’s words. Chris’s care eases your discomfort a bit, just enough for the desire to accept their offer to creep in.

“Okay,” you say, voice steady as you take a deep breath. “I accept your offer and I agree with everything you said. But make no mistake, I’m not some stray you’re bringing in off the street. I don’t need your help; I don’t need anyone.”

Raul laughs dryly, the sound settles like a rock in the pit of your stomach. He pushes the sleeves of his jacket up and you see his arms for the first time, they’re covered in various tattoos, completing his rough-around-the-edges persona. He looks at you now with an intensity that makes it feel like he sees right through your lie. “Oh, but see, you do. Or you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

TBTP: @marcellarv @yournameoneverypage @im-salt-but-not-salty