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“You three have failed this pack. You failed your own blood. That ends today. I’m ordering that you offer a formal apology before this pack, and then you will serve this community as its lowest members. Not as warriors. Not as elders. But as caretakers for the sick and needy. You will serve this community until I deem you have served your penance.”

He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to.

“Starting the next moon cycle, you’ll report to the Shaman and the kitchen staff at the Pawspital. You’ll work side by side with the wolves who care for the weak, elderly, and sick. You will help heal not with power, but with love.”

“Might even teach you how to make a blueberry cobbler since we know your baking skills are subpar at best,” Gail mutters loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Nova chokes on her coffee. Nellie barks out a laugh. Even Caelon smiles—barely—but it’s there.

Silas doesn’t back down, not even when Grant, Caelon’s father, slams his fist down on the table.

“This pack was stronger under Orion’s rule,” he growls, rising to his full height as he glares directly at Silas. “We don’t need coddling. We need control.”

Chairs scrape back as both Caelon’s mom and his brother stand up. There’s grumbling from the table as they all seem to agree with Grant’s opinion. Xavior shifts in his seat next to Caelon as he turns around, ready to jump to Silas’s defense if need be. At the other end of the table, Nova’s eyes narrow, one hand dropping protectively over her stomach. My eyes bulge as I look from her hand to her eyes. She holds a finger over her lips, quieting me.

But Silas? He only takes a step forward, steady as a mountain.

“And look where it got us. With a son who flinches when someone raises their hand too fast around him, a debt to avicious pack, and a pack learning to heal after the rot that Orion left behind. We won’t be going back to that.”

Grant’s face turns crimson red as he kicks the chair out of his way. Elise, Caelon’s Mom, grabs his arm as she whispers frantically to him. He grunts and yanks his arm from her before he storms out of the room without another word. Both Elise and Asher rush off behind him.

Gail hums into her biscuit. “Seems some people don’t like their breakfast with a side of consequences.”

Laughter breaks out around the table as the tension bleeds into the morning light.

I lean across the table grasping Cal’s hand in mine. He’s been quiet during all of this, but something is looser in his posture. Almost like he feels free.

“So can we get back to the peace and waffles?” Nellie snarks, stabbing her fork into a chunk of waffles on Xavior’s plate. “Since Mr. Grizzly over here has already finished eating.”

Xavior glares at her as she stuffs the forkful into her mouth. “You ate half my bacon.”

She smirks at him. “I earned it. Let’s call it emotional labor tax for having to deal with your grumpy ass this early in the morning.”

Things are going to be really entertaining with these two around.

Caelon hasn’t let go as his thumb brushes over the back of my hand. I don’t know if it’s from comfort or something else, but I don’t let go either.

Across the table, Xavior leans back crossing his arms over his chest, a grim look on his face.

“Alpha,” he says, voice low and steady. “You know that’s going to be a problem.”

We all look to Silas as he watches the branches sway outside the massive windows. I almost think he isn’t going to answer when he sighs and looks at Xavior.

“I know.”

Chapter 27

Caelon

Monday, July 28th – Pastries and Pitches

Iwatched her all night last night, typing and erasing her email to the Nat Geo rep she found. Groans of frustration echoing from her side of the couch before she finally slammed the laptop shut, tossing it onto the cushion beside her. I know that she is worried that she will be denied, her fear of rejection shining brighter than her determination.

My fingers skim across the brown, leather portfolio that she has been working day and night at perfecting with Lou. I think she has rearranged the photos at least twenty times by now, yelling about how the story just isn’t there yet. I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I nod nonetheless.

My tea is cooling in my cup when I set it down on the dining room table next to her unopened laptop. When she finally gave up and went to bed, she set it down on the table claiming she would work on it again today. How mad would she be if I sent the email myself?

“Do it,” Calix chimes in.