Great.

“That said, I think you’ve more than earned a break. A day away from this house is all yours. Wherever you want to go, your brothers will take you.”

My father had kept me confined to the property because of how much I’d been on the news lately. I’d traded my hot pink hair streaks for electric blue, but I knew the color change wasn’t going to fool anyone. The rest of my hair was still jet-black. I could go back to my trademark Pettersen hair—the white blonde from my mother’s side that all of my siblings shared—but that would make my mother happy. I couldn’t have that, even if it got Dad to lighten up on his fears about me being recognized. Under no circumstances did he want someone following me back to the house.

Reporters climbing our gates? Yeah. No. He wouldn’t handle that very well.

All the workouts, sparring sessions, and training with my brothers had kept my days packed full, but getting out sounded wonderful.

Dad walked to the wall and ran a hand along the Meredith-size dent in the drywall. “Damn it. I told you not to break anything.” I nearly squealed with delight. Payback was a bitch. “One of you boys is fixing the drywall in here, and we’re going to have a serious talk about following orders.”

There was a chorus of groans from my four brothers.

I tuned them out as I thought about where I wanted to go and who I wanted to go with me. The only non-Wayfarer I knew in Denver was Cosette, but she wasn’t answering her phone. No one had heard from her since Santa Fe. I was sure I didn’t need to worry about her—she could more than handle herself—but I was worrying anyway. I was pretty sure she’d gotten into a lot of trouble for helping us take down Luciana. We couldn’t have done it without her, and I felt like if there were some way to help her, I owed it to her to try.

I brushed my sweaty hair away from my face. “I’m going to take a shower, but I’m making plans for tomorrow. Wherever I want.”

“Within reason. I’m not going on any spa days.” Micah threw a towel to me. His white-blond hair was cut short against his scalp, and the tattoos he sported, along with his battered combat boots and torn black jeans, gave him a serious don’t-mess-with-me vibe. Which was completely planned. As the youngest brother, he had the most to prove and was the hardest to get along with. Not that I didn’t love him, but sometimes he made it more work than I wanted.

He still wasn’t over the time I made him get a mud bath. For a tough guy, he didn’t like to get dirty. “You need to relax. A massage could do you good. Or a hot soak in some—”

“No way. I smelled horrible for days. Pick something else.”

Dad put his hands on his hips as he stared down at me. He wore a pair of pants that looked like slacks but had enough give that they could be qualified as workout pants. His button-down had panels on the sides so that it wouldn’t rip whether he was throwing punches or shifting. As our pack Alpha, he was tougher than all my brothers put together.