Page 42 of Fated (The Bonded Legacy #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CALEB

T he dining hall buzzed with activity—voices, clattering dishes, and the crackling fire echoing against the vaulted ceiling.

Ancient wooden tables stretched across the space like fallen trees, each filled with wolves eager to hear from their alpha.

The scent of roasted chicken and fresh bread perfumed the air, mingling with the distinct markers of pack—anticipation, curiosity, and that underlying note of family that made Fenrir stir beneath Caleb’s skin, aware of every heartbeat in the room.

A hush fell over the crowd like snow settling on pine needles.

Caleb stepped to the head of the room, flanked by Asher and Varek.

Nearly seventy sets of eyes turned to him—filled with trust, curiosity, and a glimmer of hope that tightened his chest. He took a moment to let the silence settle, to meet their gazes—from the youngest pups fidgeting in their seats to the eldest warriors whose silver hair gleamed in the firelight.

“My family,” he began, his deep voice resonating through the hall carrying the weight of his authority. “It’s good to be home.”

A ripple spread through the room—murmurs and nods signaling agreement.

Caleb’s expression hardened, shoulders squared as he addressed the gathered wolves.

“The summit showed me just how much the world around us is changing. Packs are disappearing, their lands left desolate, their people scattered—or worse.” His hands gripped the edge of the wooden podium.

“Rogue attacks have increased, targeting smaller, more vulnerable packs. They don’t just take lives; they destroy entire legacies.

While Crescent Fang is strong, we cannot assume we’re untouchable. ”

Silence blanketed the room, punctuated only by logs splitting in the fire and utensils being laid down. Even the youngest pups stilled. Fenrir’s strength surged through Caleb as he let the moment linger.

What followed was a careful balance of honesty and reassurance.

Caleb outlined the same vision he’d shared with the elders.

Reintegration—the need for alliances, for opening their borders to survivors, for adaptation in an increasingly dangerous world.

Unease rippled through the pack at first, their scents sharpening with anxiety.

Asher stepped forward, his easy charm flowing through the room like sunlight breaking through clouds as he addressed the pack.

“It’s not just about our survival—it’s about our legacy,” he said, voice warm but resolute.

“This is our chance to show the region what Crescent Fang stands for, to help usher our neighbors back into Selene’s fold.

Yes, it means change, but it also means opportunity.

Together, we’ll build something stronger—something no rogue, no greedy alpha, could ever threaten. ”

Questions started to bubble up, and Caleb and Asher fielded them with ease. One of the older warriors, Maya, rose from her seat, silver streaking her dark hair like moonlight on water. Her scarred hands, evidence of decades defending the pack, rested on the table as she spoke.

“Alpha.” Maya’s voice cut through the chatter with steel-edged clarity. “How do we know these wolves we welcome won’t bring trouble? Rogues, spies, dissenters?”

At Maya’s challenge, Fenrir crashed through Caleb’s restraint—liquid gold flooded his irises, canines pierced his gumline, and his throat produced frequencies that belonged to forest depths, not dining halls.

For one breath, the alpha wolf commandeered their shared body before Caleb’s consciousness reasserted the boundary between their wills.

Caleb nodded, his wolf settling reluctantly as he acknowledged the concern that made Maya’s scent sharpen with protective instincts. “Every wolf will be vetted thoroughly,” he said, meeting her gaze. “They’ll prove their loyalty before gaining a permanent place.”

He scanned the room, including everyone in his next words. “These survivors aren’t our enemies—they’re victims of the same threats we face, but compassion doesn’t mean compromising security.”

Another voice chimed in, a younger wolf from the training ranks. “Alpha, what about the alliances? Will other packs visit us? Will we be visiting them?”

Asher grinned, his charisma lighting up the room.

“Oh, we’ll definitely be visiting. And yes, we’ll host delegations, too.

Starting with Moonshadow. Their heir, Cian, has invited us to his alpha ceremony.

It’s a chance to formalize an alliance and show the region that Crescent Fang isn’t just strong—we’re connected. ”

The mention of Moonshadow drew murmurs of interest, and Caleb noticed some of the younger wolves exchanging excited glances.

Another hand shot up, belonging to a young wolf barely into his teens. “Alpha,” he asked earnestly, “is the Moonshadow heir as strong as you?”

“He’s strong.” Caleb chuckled, the male’s wide-eyed curiosity cutting through the tension. “But strength isn’t just about power. It’s about leadership, integrity, and heart. Cian has all of that in spades. He’s someone I’m proud to call an ally—and a friend.”

The male beamed, chest puffing out with pride at having asked a good question.

As the meeting began to wind down, Caleb stepped forward again, voice carrying over the low hum of conversation.

“Change is never easy,” he said, tone steady and resolute.

“But it is necessary. Crescent Fang has always been a pack that rises to the challenge, adapts, and overcomes. Together, we’ll face whatever comes our way. Together, we’ll thrive.”

The room erupted—hands clapping or striking tables, voices rising, even howls sounding from the younger wolves. The cacophony vibrated through the wooden floors and rattled the ancient rafters, affirming with sound what Caleb had built with words.

As the pack dispersed to enjoy their meal, the dining hall filled with renewed chatter and the scrape of plates. Caleb felt Asher’s hand on his arm, the touch as familiar as his own heartbeat.

“You did good.” Asher leaned close, pride warming his voice.

Caleb glanced at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “ We did good,” he corrected, gaze lingering on Asher for a moment longer than necessary.

Fenrir rumbled contentedly within, equally soothed by their beta’s closeness.

The dining hall buzzed with laughter, the pack’s energy vibrant and alive. Caleb felt measured peace settle over him. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he wouldn’t face them alone.

Later, as the packhouse quieted, Caleb and Asher retreated to their shared suite.

The fire crackled, casting shadows across familiar comforts—worn leather armchairs, a heavy wooden chest carved with pack symbols, their bed marked by a decade of shared intimacy.

They lay tangled together, scents mingling in the quiet space.

“How was your run?” Asher’s fingers traced lazy patterns on Caleb’s chest. Beneath the question, Caleb caught the subtle scent of worry masked with a hint of teasing. “Did you howl at the moon without me again?”

The gentle ribbing—their private joke about Caleb’s tendency toward solemnity—eased something in his chest even as he prepared to share Fenrir’s revelation.

“Good. I went to the sanctum. Fenrir spoke to me.”

Asher shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, his full attention focused on Caleb. The beta’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, a tell Caleb had learned to recognize years ago. Fear—not for himself, but for whatever discovery lay ahead.

“What did he say?” Asher’s voice remained steady, but his fingers had stilled against Caleb’s skin.

Caleb’s hand found Asher’s in the dim light. “He said…mate will be with us soon.”

The words hung between them, frost forming on each syllable. Goosebumps prickled across Caleb’s skin as his gaze snagged on shadows gathering in the corner.

“I don’t know what it means—for the pack, for us.

” His voice emerged thin as spider silk.

His hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed with deliberate effort.

“It’s just...” He swallowed as Fenrir paced their internal territory, each restless circuit pumping adrenaline into Caleb’s bloodstream.

His hairline dampened, and his pulse fluttered against his skin like a trapped bird. “So much is happening at once.”

Asher reached for him. “Hey,” he said softly, scent wrapping around Caleb like a familiar blanket. “Whatever happens, I’m here. Always. You don’t have to figure it all out right now. Trust Fenrir to guide you when the time comes.”

Caleb turned to meet Asher’s gaze, his rising anxiety dissolving under the strength he saw there. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The admission scraped his throat raw.

“You won’t have to,” Asher murmured, leaning in to brush a soft kiss against Caleb’s lips.

The kiss transformed, comfort dissolving into an ancient language spoken only between them, syllables of breath and pressure instead of words. Each press of lips carried a lifetime of history—arguments and reconciliations, triumphs and failures, all woven into the fabric of who they were together.

Caleb felt the shift within himself: control surrendering, freedom finding him as Asher guided him onto his back. The cool fabric of the sheets beneath him contrasted with the warmth radiating from Asher’s body as he hovered over him.

Their wolves awoke with shared desire, adding a primal layer to each sensation. Their mingled scents changed like weather, trust and longing crystallizing into something sharper, more urgent.

Asher mapped Caleb’s body like territory both conquered and cherished.

As if his hands were cataloguing a decade’s changes—the new scar below his ribs, the strengthened muscle along his flank, the sensitive hollow where neck met shoulder that still made him gasp.

His touch was methodical, grounding Caleb in the present while igniting a fire that burned away his doubts and fears.