A determined look flashes across Roe's face. "This isn't the last time you'll see me, Gideon Mercer. I promise you that."
"You can't promise that," you say softly.
"I can, and I have. My pack—"
"I wasn't talking about your pack. I was talking about you. I wish I could have gotten to know you better."
Roe's eyes are sharp. "What do you mean by that?"
Roe's lips narrow in blatant disgust. "I thought you were a better person than that, Gideon Mercer."
"Eh..." you shuffle awkwardly back. "What do you mean?"
"Shawnie really likes you."
Ah. Ah shit. "How Shawnie feels has nothing to do with how I feel," you try to explain. It doesn't work. You're not surprised. Your words sound weak to your own ears.
"A word of advice," Roe says, voice low, dangerous. "If you want to keep your head, don't lead her on. She's dated enough arseholes. She doesn't need to add you to that list."
Before you can respond Roe is marching away, shoulders stiff, strides long. They're angry at you.
The moon sings gleefully in your ear.
ripripripripripripriprip
You take a deep breath and turn away.
You watch as Roe buckles on their helmet and mounts their bike. The rest of the pack follow their lead.
Shawnie sends you a confused sad look but clips on her helmet and mounts her bike.
Roe doesn't rev the engine but allows their bike to roll back down the driveway and onto the road. Their pack follows their example until they're fanned out on the tarmac, ready to ride.
You notice a woman with a stroller standing down the street, watching with wide eyes as the bikes rev to life and peel off in tight formation down the road. Some of the wolves wave as they leave, some let out small howls, but most stay still and quiet as they veer towards the highway and vanish from sight.
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