Collision Course
886 Words
If there was one thing Remington Hayes had forgotten about Bayou Falls, it was that the pack never did anything quietly.
Especially not reunions.
The gathering at the pack house was in full swing by the time she, Rae, Del, and Aspen arrived.
Music drifted from the back patio, laughter echoed beneath strings of hanging lights, and the scent of Cajun food rolled through the humid night air.
It should have felt warm.
Welcoming.
Instead, it felt like stepping into a lion’s den dressed in designer heels.
“Tell me again why we’re here?” Rae muttered.
“Because refusing the Alpha’s invitation apparently causes gossip for six generations,” Del answered.
Remi adjusted the sleeves of her fitted emerald dress and exhaled.
“I’m here because I’m a mature adult capable of socializing with people I dislike.”
Rae looked at her.
Del looked at her.
Aspen sneezed.
“None of you are helpful,” Remi muttered.
The moment they stepped onto the lawn, conversations slowed.
Heads turned.
Whispers followed.
Remi lifted her chin.
Let them stare.
She had spent too many years earning her place in rooms much harder than this one.
She was no longer the girl they underestimated.
She was Dr. Remington Hayes.
And she refused to shrink.
A few elders approached first, offering polite greetings and careful smiles.
Then pack members she vaguely remembered.
Some welcoming.
Some assessing.
All curious.
Because the human girl had returned.
And she was no longer a girl.
She was halfway through greeting an elderly woman when the shift in atmosphere hit.
A ripple.
Subtle, but unmistakable.
She turned.
And there he was.
William Carter.
Walking down the steps of the main house like he owned the ground beneath him.
Which, technically, he did.
Dark slacks. Crisp black button-down with sleeves rolled just enough to expose strong forearms.
Alpha authority wrapped around him like armor.
And everyone noticed.
Conversations dimmed.
People stepped aside.
Even after nine years, he commanded attention without trying.
Remi hated how easily her pulse reacted.
Trey and Elijah followed behind him, both looking equally smug.
“Looks like the king has arrived,” Rae muttered.
Will’s gaze found Remi immediately.
Like it had been searching for her.
That look—
steady, unreadable, dangerous—
made something low in her stomach tighten.
He stopped in front of her.
“Remington.”
She smiled politely.
“William.”
Trey snorted.
Elijah rubbed his jaw.
The formal names were deliberate.
Weapons disguised as manners.
“Glad you came,” Will said.
“Wasn’t aware attendance was optional.”
A flicker of amusement touched his face.
Gone in a second.
“Still impossible.”
“Still insufferable.”
Several nearby pack members pretended not to listen while absolutely listening.
Trey leaned toward Rae.
“Do they always flirt like they’re declaring war?”
Rae took a sip of her drink.
“Yes.”
Remi ignored them.
Will stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“You could’ve declined.”
“And miss seeing the famous Alpha in his natural habitat?” she asked sweetly. “Never.”
His eyes darkened.
“Careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning.”
She laughed softly.
“Oh, I forgot. Bayou Falls still runs on outdated intimidation tactics.”
That got attention.
A few heads turned sharply.
Even Trey muttered, “Well, damn.”
Will’s jaw flexed.
“You’re speaking about your pack.”
Remi’s smile vanished.
“No. I’m speaking about a leadership system that still values hierarchy over actual accountability.”
Silence.
Complete.
Total.
Every eye in the space shifted between them.
Someone coughed.
Del whispered, “Oh, this is spectacular.”
Will held her gaze.
“You think you understand what leadership requires?”
Remi stepped forward.
“No, Will. I know what leadership requires.”
The use of his first name in public made several elders stiffen.
She didn’t care.
“I’ve led trauma teams in operating rooms where seconds decide life or death. I’ve made impossible calls under pressure while others froze. So yes—I understand responsibility.”
The challenge was clear.
Direct.
Public.
And no one had ever spoken to the Alpha like that.
Except her.
A dangerous spark lit in his eyes.
For one reckless second, she thought he might actually smile.
Instead, he said quietly—
“Still fighting battles no one asked you to fight.”
Her breath caught.
Because beneath the words was history.
Pain.
The same wound they both carried.
Before she could answer, someone bumped into her from behind.
She stumbled.
And instinctively reached out—
Straight into Will.
Her palm hit his chest.
His hand closed around her wrist.
Everything stopped.
The world narrowed into one impossible point of contact.
Heat.
Sharp and immediate.
Like lightning beneath her skin.
A pulse slammed through her body so violently she gasped.
Will’s grip tightened.
His breath hitched.
For one suspended second, every sound vanished.
Her heartbeat thundered.
His eyes flashed—not metaphorically.
Actually flashed.
Gold.
A low growl rumbled in his chest.
Not anger.
Something deeper.
Something primal.
Around them, the crowd went dead silent.
Aspen barked sharply.
And Remi yanked her hand back like she’d been burned.
But it was already too late.
Because every person there had seen it.
And so had he.
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