Page 25

“But I already finished my homework,” Noah grumbles. “It was easy.”

Rowan smiles at him fondly. My heart aches at the sight.

“Come on, honey,” I murmur to Noah.

Rowan tilts his head at me. “Can I walk you to your car?”

“I don’t suppose you’d let me say no to that even if I wanted to,” I murmur, then immediately regret it. Noah really shouldn’t have to listen to me talk to his father this way. I try to force a smile and make it seem like a joke, but I know it’s a weak attempt.

Noah grabs his backpack and slinks out of the booth. I follow after him, purse slung over my shoulder. Rowan takes up the rear, a large and commanding presence that dares everyone to look at us the wrong way. I hate that it’s so easy to settle into that protectiveness. I hate that it feels so right for him to guard me like this.

This time, we don’t need to escape out the back of the restaurant. Instead, we walk out the front door and loop around to the parking lot. The sky is darkening overhead. Noah hums to himself, perfectly content as he skips ahead.

He hops into the back of my Jeep, exclaiming, “Bye, Dad!”

Rowan is hovering close enough at my back that I can hear the sharp intake of breath.

“Bye, Noah,” he says, his voice thick.

Noah grins and pulls the door shut. I hesitate, turning to face Rowan. He clears his throat loudly. I watch the way he tries to fightthe swell of emotions that the word dad has clearly brought to the surface.

I don’t know what to say.

Rowan does, though. He cuts right to the chase. “We should to discuss the conflict that the Whiteroses have brewing on their border.”

“What is there to discuss?”

“It’s serious, Alina.”

“I’ve never been interested in pack politics before. I don’t need to know the details.”

It’s a lie, though. When I was younger, I wanted to be just like my parents. I wanted to be an elder. I wanted to help lead my community.

So much has changed since I lost them.

He steps closer to me, keeping his voice low. “Well, at the very least, we need to talk about protection.”

A bubble of delirious laughter escapes me. I gesture vaguely in Noah’s direction. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

He catches the double-meaning of his words, then quirks an eyebrow at me as if to say, seriously?

“I mean that, as long as you insist on living here in Whiterose territory, I need to know that our son will be safe.”

“He is safe.”

“The Blackburns are causing trouble again, Alina.”

Against my best efforts, I flinch at those words. Zahra had mentioned something about it earlier, and I learned about the friction it caused recently with the Greenbriars from Old Joe. That’s what prompted Rowan’s visit to see Henry Whiterose yesterday.

But that isn’t why my entire body cringes in rejection of Rowan’s words. The Blackburns aren’t just a potential nuisance or an unrealized threat. Samson Blackburn is the reason my parents are dead. I know better than to underestimate the devious Alpha of that violent, bloodthirsty pack.

“We’ll be careful,” is all I say.

“Careful isn’t always enough.”

Your parents were careful, he doesn’t need to add.

“I’m not moving back to Greenbriar land just because you say—”