A pack was one thing I never dreamt of having. I never gave myself the hope of getting one for I would have been disappointed. I knew I would never -could never- get one. That was the one if the many reasons I latched onto Frankie and his pack. Frankie's pack was the closest I would ever get to my own pack, or so I thought.

I stared at Frankie in utter shock and the other occupants of the bar sat there befuddled. For months after meeting Frankie I prayed for my scent to change, for me to finally have a home. There is no need to explain that I was disappointed. I was disappointed to not have a pack. I was also disappointed that I let myself hope.

Once a shifter finds their pack, their whole body scent changes. The shifter's scent slowly morphs and starts smelling like its pack. Each pack has its own distinct scent, like a mark. Packs are typically amongst same breeds or species and consist of about two to four people, sometimes bigger. They are rarely made up of humans, let alone six.

"Pack?" Tony asked. Ever the curious one.

"Yes." I said slowly, still trying to figure out if Frank was joking with me. It would have been a horribly cruel joke. "It would explain why Frank didn't recognize my scent when we first got here."

"I think you need to explain." Frank said as he looked at the blank stares aimed at us.

"Like soul mates but with a group of people." I said off-handedly. I could feel Frankie's glare of disapproval on the back of my head. "You're the one that told me to explain." I snapped at Frank not even looking at him. "Deal with it." Maybe I was still a bit hurt from our earlier conversation.

The others winced at the bite in my voice. "So..." Tony started afraid to have his head bitten off too "We're meant to be?"

"Yes we were all 'meant to be'" I said carefully, almost scared at what Tony was getting at.

Tony turned to Steve with a child-like face. "Can we keep her? Please?"

Saying Steve looked startled would be an understatement. "I think that's up to her." He said his eyebrows knitting together.

"I'm not a stray dog." I mumbled as I heard Frank try to cover -try- a laugh.

Tony promptly ignored me and kept staring at Steve "Please? Pretty please?" Steve still looked a little shocked as he glanced at me "I'll feed her, I promise!" I had a feeling he was doing it just to anger me. I gave Steve a 'Go ahead' gesture with my hands. I can't wait to see this play out.

"I-" he paused "errrm-" he glanced at me "uhh-" he looked back to Tony "Sure." He blurted. Steve's eyes flashed with panic and regret the second Tony's smile grew. He looked to me for help and I just shrugged. He said yes, he could deal with it.

"C'mon guys we have stuff to do." Tony said walking out the door. The rest of the group looked at each other then started to follow him out. I turned back to Frankie ready for another day of work.

"Bye!" I yelled as the last of them made it out the door. I jumped in surprise when the door flew back open presenting Tony.

"Matty! Get your ass moving, we have to get your stuff!"

"What?" I said a little confused by his demand.

"You heard Steve! We get to keep you, you're moving in."

"I don't think I can afford rent."

"Who said anything about paying?" With that he was out the door again.

I looked to Frank and shuffled toward him to give him a hug. His arms engulfed me in a big warm embrace. He let go holding me at an arms length and I gave him a pained smile. He returned the smile "Ryder Matthews, be safe, and you're fired." I laughed at his words and wrapped him in one more hug. "Be sure to visit."

"Matty!" Tony yelled again. Maybe a little change of scene would be a good thing. I gave Frank one last smile and followed Tony out the door.

"I love how 'we' turned to 'Steve'" I said as I unlocked my apartment door. The gold colored plastic numbers glittered under the hallway's low lights as I swung the door open.

Steve laughed "It tends to happen." He said as he followed me into my apartment.

I flicked on the lights. "Excuse the mess." I mumbled "It has been a few weeks."

"Mess?" He asked and looked at my apartment in shock. It was clean. The grubby tiles were as clean as if ever seen them, the rugs were vacuumed, dishes cleaned, and everything was in its rightful place. Warning bells went off in my head and my hand shot out instinctively, stopping Steve from setting foot onto one of the cleaned rugs.

"Wait." Steve looked at me then down at the floor, to his unfolded cardboard boxes that filled arms, then back at me. Following my command he set his foot back down next to its partner. I shifted my eyes around the room looking for something to indicate that it was a trap.

Not finding anything alarming I stepped into my small living room. I took another step and a loud crashing sound came from my open door. "PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

Steve immediately threw his hands up, not wanting to cause trouble. I saw a familiar shotgun peeking from behind the door. I laughed and Steve looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. "MR. FALD!" I yelled, "It's me, Ryder."

The double barrel inched the door open to reveal Mr. Fald's face. His shoulders slumped in relief when he saw me. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dale?"

"When you start calling me Matty." I replied, it was something we went over every time we spoke. Dale was in his late seventies with a beer belly. He had a large nose where his bifocals sat. He also had a pair of baby blues and thinning white hair. He was ex-military but had a large heart. He and his wife are the ones who own the apartment that I lived in.

"Sorry about how clean the place is." He said. "I know how unclean you like it but after the police tore it apart the missus couldn't help but clean the place up."

"It's okay." I assured him, but I was freaking out. Did the police find my stash? I wondered.

"We were both worried about you. Once the police told us they believed you were dead, we didn't have the heart to empty the place out yet." He pointed his gnarly finger at me "Where have you been young lady?" Dale took one look at me and my red face and he instantly knew. "You tried to be the hero again?" His eyes narrowed.

Me staring at my feet was enough of an answer for him, but I nodded anyways.

I heard him let out a big sigh and he -gratefully- changed the subject. "Who is this young man?" I chuckled as he eyed Steve critically. "Were you in the military?"

Steve looked at Dale astonished. "How'd you know?"

"Your posture." Dale explained. "I was in war too, I'd say you were in World War Two if I didn't know better." Horror flashed in Steve's eyes for a moment.

"He's my new family so don't scare him away Dale." I said leaning up on my tip toes to give Steve a kiss on the cheek. Steve's face turned bright red but he kept up with my act hugging me around the waist.

Dale gave me a big smile his face also red. "Well all right, I'll just leave you two to it. Come visit me later, alright?"

I nodded to Dale and he shuffled out the door softly closing it behind him. I shoved Steve off me the second Dale was out the door. "Thanks, I needed him out."

Steve stumbled a bit before nodding. "No problem."

I went straight to the edge of the old ratty book shelf and tore the Webster's Dictionary, a Spanish dictionary, an almanac, a few Readers Digests, and a selection of other books and set -okay, maybe throw- them on the floor. I slammed my fist on the back of the poor bookshelf's boards and it popped open.

I let out a sigh of relief when I saw my stash wasn't touched. "Why do you have a twenty-two hidden behind your book case?"

"Because I needed it." I said as I took the gun out and set it gently on my lumpy green sofa. I turned back and pulled my handgun out of the case too.

"And a handgun?" Steve asked his eyes wide.

"How do you think the mob got its name?" Steve just stared at me waiting for the answer. "They're crows for crying out loud!"

"That still doesn't explain the guns."

"I don't need the twenty-two, I just haven't the heart to throw it away. The Glock, however, would be most useful to a loner shifter." Steve still looked lost. "For the love of-" I pinched the bridge of my nose "-to protect myself."

Steve nodded accepting my answer as I shoved the small gun in my waistband. Finally I pulled a small black briefcase from my book shelf and set it next to the gun on the couch.

I noticed Steve eyeing the case curiously "It's my birth certificate and stuff like that." He, once again, nodded. I silently prayed he would never get curious enough to look into my black case. I had more than just my birth certificate and social security card in the thing, but I wasn't going to tell Steve that. I rapped my knuckles against the case once, "Almost indestructible."

Leaving Steve in the living room I moved to my own room and grabbed my two stuffed toys from the bed. The tiger was no longer pristine white and my wolf had a few holes but I wasn't about to get rid of them.

"You sure you're only going to need five boxes?" The blonde asked as I re-entered the living room. He had already set up the boxes. His eyes caught sight of the stuffed toys and he said nothing.

"Yeah." I said as I handed him the toys. Steve handled the two as if they were the queen's crowned jewels, and for that I was grateful. They were the earliest memory I had of my family being happy.

"I'm not taking furniture or silverware." I yelled as I walked back to my room. I grabbed my sketch books and waddled back to the living room my arms overflowing. I set those down gently next to Steve too and returned to my room for clothes.

I pulled out all my lazy clothes first. Sweatpants, leggings, sweatshirts, fuzzy socks, etcetera. I quickly changed into a black pair of sweatpants with 'FPD' bold white letters. Not so long but long story. I threw off my tattered shirt no replaced it with a new one. Putting my Glock in my waist band and picking up my lazy clothes, I headed back to the living room.

Steve was sitting on the shaggy rug with his legs crossed. One of my sketchbooks was open across his lap and he leaned over it. He was, what seemed to be, in deep concentration. I sat down next to him and he looked at me startled. "I hope you don't mind."

I shook my head 'no' and looked at the drawing he was observing. It was a drawing of my dad. He had a look of anger on his face, a look that seemed burned into his face. Steve flicked to the next page, my newest drawing.

A woman, my mother to be exact. Her head was thrown back, mid-laugh. Steve lightly traced her dark hair and I mentally reminded myself to darken her hair with a 4B later. "Who is she?"

"My mother." I replied staring at her.

"She is beautiful, it's beautiful."

For some reason, his sentence made me tear up. A lone drop escaped my eye as Steve looked to me. He reached out and gently wiped the tear away, as he gently as he had the drawing.

I gave him a wobbly smile in return and stood up. "Let's finish packing, shall we?"

AN

I almost forgot to update.

Almost.

Can anyone guess what happens in the next chapter?

I know I can!

NEXT WEEK

BYE!