**BOOK THREE**
Still grieving the loss of his mate, twenty-four-year-old Tatum Knowles isolated himself from the rest of his pack. With the strength of both his pack and himself being questioned by those around them, the last thing Tatum planned to...
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I had never seen Nixon so excited.
As we drove to the Silver Night's territory, he had a broad smile on his face. His foot thumped against the floor of the car, and he was constantly talking.
To be honest, I couldn't say that I was entirely sure about this "break," as Nixon and Maia alike had described it. I wasn't sure about leaving my pack, even if it was for a short amount of time, and I wasn't sure about staying in the Silver Night.
But it made him happy.
It made him happy to show me the place he called home, and that was the only reason I'd agreed to this. I would stay for a week or two and then leave. Hopefully, by then, Nixon would let go of the idea that he had to stay with me.
Truth be told, I couldn't stop thinking about that night. We both seemed to have agreed that we wouldn't bring it up, but that didn't stop my mind from running wild. I wasn't angry about what happened that night—actually, the issue was I liked it—enjoyed it even. Admitting that stirred something inside of me. Guilt maybe? This wasn't what either of us needed. Especially after everything that happened in the last few months? I wasn't sure how I felt.
"We're almost there," Nixon said, catching my attention. His eyes focused on the trees we passed by. "When we get there and finish putting away our things, I want to go on that run we talked about."
I rolled my eyes at that. Had it been his choice, we would've run from my pack to the Silver Night. He had tried to convince me, and while part of me wanted to give in to his demands, I ultimately had to say no because we needed to use the car in order to bring the luggage.
"So, where exactly are we staying?" I asked.
"My house, obviously," Nixon responded before his eyes lit up and a smirk took over his face. "You know what I just realized, Tate?"
"What?" I asked, knowing I'd likely regret it.
"We've changed positions. It seems like I'm the one holding you prisoner now."
I shot him a glance. "I did not hold you prisoner. Let's not forget who requested to come and stay."
"Details," Nixon dismissed me. "Don't worry; I won't keep you locked away like you did to me."
I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I should start calling you Rapunzel."
"Rapunzel?"
Nixon's brows knitted together in confusion, adding to the growing list of things he didn't know about. I hadn't said anything because I knew that he wouldn't want to talk about it, but the more I spoke to Nixon, the more I began to realize just how much he didn't know. While I'm sure the difference in how our packs played a role in some aspects, it still surprised me how, when it came to most childhood games, shows, and more, he didn't know what they were. It made me want to know more about his childhood.
