Page 48

Selene

T he scent of maple syrup, pancakes, and too many shifters in one place fills my nose as I look around at all the members of our pack gathered in the dining hall for another pack breakfast. Each week more and more members join us and I love it.

The room is full of people talking and laughing, but through it all you can hear two people arguing about the proper way to cook bacon.

“Burnt is the only way bacon should be eaten,” Nellie, Nova’s best friend, declares, voice sharp and unapologetic.

Xavior grunts, “You mean ruined.”

They are sitting across from each other at the pack leaders table with Nova and Silas sitting at the ends. Silas leans his elbow against the table with a coffee mug in hand, looking like a man who regrets every life choice that led him to having these two sitting at the same table together.

Gail, of course, sits smugly next to Nova with a mimosa and the kind of twinkle in her eye that promises she’s already meddling in someone else’s day.

And Cal? He stands next to me as we walk over to the table, with a soft smile curving his lips as he watches it all. His fingers brush against mine as he grabs my hand in his, grounding both of us in the chaos.

We take our seats across from each other, me next to Nellie and Cal next to Xavior. Warrick and Aspen’s seats sit empty. Hopefully after their pup is born they will be able to return from Ireland, only time will tell.

My plate is stacked with honey dew melon, a banana nut muffin, and yogurt. While Cal’s only has three perfectly round pancakes with one square of butter on top.

“I don’t understand how you can enjoy bacon that tastes like ash and disappointment,” Xavior mutters as his nose scrunches when she takes a bite out of her bacon. The crunch cracking across the table as his eyes darken.

“It’s called flavor, Mountain Man,” Nellie snaps back, already slathering her waffles in enough syrup to give a bear shifter a heart attack. “Some of us have taste buds that aren’t stuck on cornbread and milk.”

He scowls. “Some of us didn’t grow up thinking coffee was a food group.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Remind me again how many Michelin stars Jasper has? None? That’s what I thought. You wouldn’t know culture if it walked up and smacked you in the face.”

Silas doesn’t even look up from his pancakes as he cuts a chunk off. “Play nice, children.”

Gail sips her mimosa with a smirk. “Let them spar. It’s basically going to be foreplay for the two of them.”

Xavior chokes on his coffee.

Nellie just glares at him.

Silas clinks his silverware against his plate as he pushes back and stands. Our table is front and center with pack members seated throughout the room surrounding us. Silas moves around the table as we all follow him with our eyes.

He comes to stand in the center of the room, clearing his throat. The room settles down.

“Before we leave today, there is a matter that’s been brought to my attention that I need to be very clear to you won’t be tolerated any longer.

” His eyes scan over each wolf. “I know in the past that we lived by the belief that a wolf needed to be strong. We were taught that we needed to fight, to be aggressive, and engrain it into each future generation. What we allow to happen in the silence becomes culture. And the culture of this pack will no longer include abuse. Not behind closed doors. Not in the name of strength. Never again.”

Everyone looks at each other, some with looks of confusion, and others with a look of contempt.

My eyes look to Caelon’s parents who are sitting stone-faced and rigid at a table with others who supported Orion when he was our Alpha.

I only know because I’ve overheard my parents talking about a group that didn’t like that Silas took over and how they preferred the ways that Orion ran the pack.

His douchebag brother is sitting next to his dad glaring at Caelon as if it’s all his fault and I’m half tempted to walk over there and finish what I started last week when Silas speaks again.

He turns to look directly at them.

“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 a vicious 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.”