A sharp insult echoed from the speeding cars beside her. "Go back to where you came from, whore!" The words stung as Claire’s eyes locked onto the glossy red Camaro speeding away, its taunting passengers fading to a distant blur.

A deep, guttural growl stirred low in her throat, threatening to erupt. She fought to quell the wild, raging pulse beneath her skin, breathing evenly, willing the beast inside her to retreat. Just ignore it, she told herself, swallowing the fury that flared.

Moments passed. Her knuckles unclenched, and the tension in her body eased slightly. It was a constant battle—her human side had learned to let the jeers slide, but her wolf resented the disrespect, craving retribution.

Yet, revenge wasn’t an option. Not here, not now.

Claire resumed her walk along the roadside, the familiar path leading her home stretching just over a mile. In her wolf form, she could cover the distance in heartbeats, but in her human guise, the pace felt slower, more deliberate.

Clusters of towering trees lined the embankment beside her. This town was a haven of greenery; trees flourished on every corner and in every yard. Nature outweighed the presence of people here.

She found comfort in this wildness. The morning chorus of birdsong, the subtle rustle of leaves in the wind, and the sprawling earth beneath her feet all echoed a part of herself, a tether to her true nature.

The sensation of soil soft but firm beneath her feet, the sharp snap of twigs, the cool morning air brushing against her skin—these were the moments when she felt most at peace.

Her solitude was broken by a familiar voice calling out, "Care!" Charlie’s exuberance filled the quiet house as he barreled toward her just inside the front door.

The nickname had stuck over the years, a garbled version of her name that her six-year-old brother had never quite mastered. Claire smiled warmly, bracing herself as he launched into her arms with the unbridled energy of a child not yet burdened by his werewolf awakening.

"Care, you missed it! Jackie and I painted, then we made playdoh shapes!" Charlie’s eyes sparkled with innocence and joy as he rattled off his day’s adventures.

Claire clicked on the living room lights, softening the dim space, then guided him toward the kitchen. "Did you remember to thank Jackie?" she asked gently.

Charlie’s lips formed a perfect little 'O' of realization.

She chuckled, nudging him toward Jackie, who was rinsing dishes in their worn, rust-speckled sink.

Charlie scampered over, wrapping his small arms around Jackie’s waist, barely reaching her hip. "Thank you, Jackie," he said sincerely.

Jackie offered a tight smile, her eyes tired but patient as she returned the hug. "Of course, Charlie."

The air in the kitchen thickened, heavy with an unspoken tension. Claire recognized the tightness in Jackie’s jaw and the restless tapping of her fingers on the counter.

"Charlie, can you give Claire and me a moment?" Jackie’s voice was steady but carried an edge of desperation.

Claire nodded at her brother, who hesitated before reluctantly trudging up the stairs, his small shoulders slumped as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him.

Jackie dried her hands, frustration and exhaustion etched into her features. She was not known for warmth, but this was something new—barely contained anger directed at the invisible weight between them.

"Is something wrong?" Claire’s brow furrowed with concern.

Jackie sighed deeply, rubbing her temples. "No. Nothing’s right anymore. I’ve been pushing through, hoping tomorrow will be better, but it never is. I’m done."

A cold pit formed in Claire’s stomach. "You’re not seriously thinking of quitting?"

"Exactly that," Jackie snapped. "I can’t keep doing this."

"But Charlie’s a good kid. Sure, he’s a handful sometimes—"

"It’s not Charlie," Jackie interrupted, voice sharp. "It’s you, your parents... the whole situation. I’m supposed to be the help, not his parent."

Claire’s throat tightened. "I don’t understand."

Jackie’s glare was fierce. "I’m the babysitter. I watch him for a few hours, clean, and get paid. That’s all. But you and your parents don’t see it that way. You expect more, but don’t pay for it. Services aren’t free."

When had Jackie last been paid? Claire’s mind raced, thinking of conversations with Cole. "If you’d let me speak with Cole and Marie, I can fix this. We can make it right."

Jackie scoffed, grabbing her purse and keys. "It won’t matter because I’m leaving. I quit."

Claire followed her, desperation creeping into her voice. "Jackie, please. Can’t we find a way? We need you. You’re the only one who understands Charlie."

Jackie opened the door, stepping outside into the crisp air before turning back. Her expression was hard, a final farewell. "You Omegas aren’t valued here. Look at Charlie. You don’t listen, you don’t pay. Maybe losing me will teach you a lesson—that you can’t take us for granted."

Without another word, she closed the door firmly behind her and made her way down the cracked porch steps toward her sleek Volvo.

Claire leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart pounding as the engine’s rumble faded into the distance. She pressed her forehead to the cool wood, releasing a shaky breath. Damn it all. How could she fix this? There was no money to pay Jackie. The walls were closing in.

"Care?" Charlie’s small voice trembled from behind her.

Turning, Claire met his tearful gaze, bottom lip quivering. She swept him into her arms, holding him close, the warmth of his scent grounding her.

"It’s not your fault, Charlie. Jackie wasn’t the right fit for us."

His tears spilled freely. "Mommy’s going to be so angry with me."

Claire soothed him, whispering softly into his ear. "No one’s angry with you. This is on me, on Cole and Marie. We’ll figure it out together, okay?"

She rocked him gently, willing herself to stay strong for both their sakes as the quiet house seemed to close in around them, heavy with uncertainty and the weight of what was to come.