Page 3 of Noah (Pecan Pines #4)

Chapter 3

Jackson/ Noah

JACKSON

Present

“I have a bone to pick with you," Hudson began, his voice low and simmering with frustration. But I wasn't listening.

My focus shifted, locking onto the two werewolves who had just entered the bar.

They were big, muscular, and carried themselves with the kind of arrogance that set my teeth on edge.

Their scent was foreign, unfamiliar—definitely not one of ours.

Their leather jackets bore the emblem of thorns twisted around a howling wolf—Thornbane.

The sight of it made my irritation spike into full-blown anger.

Adrian’s wolves had been growing bolder ever since he took over after his father’s mysterious death.

Rumors had swirled about how it happened, but none of us had any doubt Adrian had a hand in it.

They strode into our territory like they owned the place, with an air of smug confidence that suggested they expected no consequences.

It was a blatant challenge, a slap in the face to every wolf in this bar. They weren’t here to drink or socialize. They were here to provoke.

The bigger one, his grin cocky and self-assured, scanned the room until his gaze landed on us.

His expression widened into something more sinister when he recognized who we were.

He elbowed his companion, who followed his gaze and smirked, clearly amused by their audacity.

Meanwhile, my brother Hudson was too preoccupied with glaring at me to notice them. His frustration radiated off him in waves, his eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Are you even listening to me, Jackson?” he snapped, his fingers drumming impatiently on the bar.

I shoved his hand back, keeping my eyes on the intruders. “We’ll talk later. Trouble just walked in.”

Hudson’s eyes followed my gaze, and his body tensed when he saw them.

His breathing hitched, the low growl building in his throat telling me he was already spoiling for a fight.

"Pretty brave—or stupid—of them to enter our territory thinking there won’t be any consequences," he muttered, his words laced with barely restrained fury.

Around us, the atmosphere in the bar shifted.

Our pack mates, scattered throughout the room, were watching the Thornbane wolves with the same wary, hostile energy.

They all knew the unspoken rule: this was our territory, and outsiders weren’t welcome, especially not from a pack like Thornbane.

Before I could formulate a plan or even caution Hudson, he was already on his feet, making a beeline toward the intruders. Why did he always act before he thought?

“Hudson, wait,” I began, my voice low but firm.

He didn’t stop. He never did.

Why did he always act before he thought? It was a pattern as old as I could remember.

Hudson thrived on instinct, a gut-level reaction that had served him well in some situations but got him into trouble in others.

He’d had always been this way, a firebrand of emotion and impulsivity, always ready to fight, always ready to prove himself.

Our father had tried to temper that side of him, dragging us both to meetings and events to teach us diplomacy and restraint.

But Hudson had never taken to it. He believed in action, in force, in making his dominance clear.

I couldn’t count the number of times I’d had to pull him back from the edge, to stop him from making a situation worse.

And tonight was no different.

My heart pounded as I watched him stride toward the Thornbane wolves. He was going to confront them, consequences be damned, and it was up to me to stop him before things spiraled out of control.

Adrian’s wolves were cunning. They knew exactly how to push our buttons, how to bait us into making the first move.

If Hudson gave them the reaction they were looking for, it would be all the excuse Adrian needed to escalate the brewing tension between our packs into an outright war.

I quickened my pace, weaving through the tables and patrons, my mind racing. I had to reach him before he did something we couldn’t take back.

"Hudson, wait," I called after him, knowing it was useless.

He might have been the oldest and the heir apparent, but his recklessness was a liability.

Despite our differences, I couldn’t let him face this alone. I pushed off my stool, weaving through the crowd to catch up.

My mind raced with thoughts of how to defuse this before it spiraled into violence.

I wished our other brothers Beck and Mason were here; they always helped in reigning Hudson in, but tonight, it was just the two of us.

"You have no permission being here," Hudson was saying, his voice low but dangerous.

His eyes had started to glow gold, a telltale sign that he was on the brink of losing control.

The bigger werewolf chuckled, leaning back in his seat as if this was all a game.

"Didn’t know we needed permission to grab a drink,” he said, his tone mocking. His companion chuckled, clearly enjoying the tension they were stirring.

Hudson’s growl deepened, and I stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hudson," I said firmly, "let’s not give Adrian what he wants."

He shot me a glance, his jaw tight. "They’re here to provoke us. If we let them walk out of here unscathed, it makes us look weak."

I kept my voice even, though my heart was pounding. "And if we attack them, it gives Adrian the excuse he needs to start a war. Is that what you want?"

Hudson hesitated, his fists clenching and unclenching. I turned my attention to the Thornbane wolves. "You’ve made your point. Now leave."

The bigger wolf’s grin faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. "We were just enjoying a drink. No need to get hostile."

"This is our territory," I said coldly. "You’ve made your presence known. Now it’s time to go."

For a heartbeat, I thought the Thornbane wolves might push it further, testing the limits of our patience even with the next regional summit looming on the horizon.

The bigger one locked eyes with me, his grin fading into something colder, more calculating. He seemed to weigh his options, the tension stretching taut between us.

His companion shifted uneasily, clearly sensing the precariousness of the moment. For a second, I braced myself, ready for the inevitable explosion of violence.

But then, the bigger wolf stood, his companion following suit, their movements deliberate and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world.

They were making a show of their exit, a final act of defiance, but it was also a retreat.

“See you at the summit,” he called, the promise of more trouble hanging in the air as they disappeared into the night.

Hudson’s fists clenched at his sides, his growl low and dangerous, but I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, grounding him.

“Let them go,” I told my brother.

As the Thornbane wolves sauntered out, the tension in the bar eased, but the unspoken challenge hung heavy in the air.

They had come to provoke, to stir the pot, and they had succeeded. The summit would start tomorrow, but the real games had already begun.

Hudson shoved my hand away and turned to me, his eyes still glowing faintly.

“They’ll be back. This is far from over,” he said.

I nodded. "I know. But tonight, we avoided giving Adrian what he wanted. We’ll deal with this our way, on our terms."

Hudson sighed, some of the tension leaving his body. "You’re right," he admitted grudgingly. "But next time, we might not be so lucky."

I clapped him on the back, a rare moment of solidarity between us. "We’ll be ready at whatever he throws at us,” I told him.

NOAH

“...The packs will be arriving over the next two days,” Cooper announced, his calm but commanding voice cutting through the low hum of activity in the pack house hall. “We need everything to run smoothly. The pack liaisons have a crucial role. Make sure all arrangements—housing, food, and security—are double-checked.”

I shifted in my seat, the clipboard resting on my lap feeling heavier than it should. My thumb brushed absently over a name on the list, one I hadn’t dared say aloud yet.

Jackson.

It had been over a decade since I’d last seen him, but some memories refused to fade.

His name alone carried weight—a simple, solid presence that felt unshakable, even in ink. And his smile… that easy, lopsided grin that could make anyone feel like they were the center of his world for just a moment.

Then there were his eyes. A deep, clear blue that reminded me of the lake near the edge of Silvercrest territory, the one we’d kept sneaking off to one summer.

They held a mix of mischief and kindness that made my heart skip even back then, though I’d never had the words to name why.

I could still picture how he’d ruffle my hair, teasing but gentle, like it was second nature to him.

Back then, it had annoyed me in the way only a teenager could be annoyed by something secretly comforting.

But other things were getting fuzzy now. The sound of his laugh—it used to be so familiar, but now I wasn’t sure if I’d recognize it if I heard it.

Even the way he used to look at me during those stolen moments, when it felt like time slowed down just for us.

Had it been real? Or was my memory dressing up the past, twisting it into something more than it had ever been?

My heart believed it had been real, but my mind wasn’t so sure anymore.

I didn’t want to know the answer.

From my seat at the back of the hall, I shot a glare at Miles. This had his fingerprints all over it.

Of all the packs attending the summit, and of all possible assignments, what were the odds I’d be put in charge of the Silvercrest Pack?

None. It wasn’t coincidence—it was Miles.

There were perks to having your best friend mated to the pack alpha, but this wasn’t one of them.

It made me want to casually mention another one of Miles’ embarrassing childhood stories to Cooper. That move had worked before, and it would work again.

That would teach him.

I let out a small huff and forced myself to focus on Cooper’s words. Dwelling on memories or plotting petty revenge against Miles wasn’t going to get anything done.

Besides, I had a job to do—a big one—and I couldn’t afford any distraction.

Ethan’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. “Look at him, scribbling down who knows what on that notebook of his.”

“Hmm?” I blinked, catching up to the conversation. “Wait—who are you talking about?”

Ethan wasn’t looking in the same direction I had been. His attention was fixed elsewhere, so I followed his gaze to Colton, who was standing near the catering team.

He was gesturing animatedly at a stack of equipment, his notebook clutched tightly in one hand.

“Colton?” I guessed.

“Yeah,” Ethan drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Bet he’s over there micromanaging the hell out of the meal prep for that thing tomorrow night.”

“The opening dinner?” I offered. It was an outdoor event—informal, buffet-style, designed to set a relaxed tone for the summit.

“Yeah, that,” Ethan replied, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm. “You’d think he’s planning a state banquet, not some casual meet-and-greet with a bunch of shifters who’ll be elbow-deep in barbecue sauce and halfway shifted by the end of the night.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

I sighed. “Take it easy on him. He’s your brother.”

Ethan finally looked up at me, his expression flat. “Exactly why I’m not taking it easy on him.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, sighing again. The last time Ethan and Colton had one of their brotherly spats, Ethan had skipped band practice for an entire week, which led to canceled gigs and more headaches than I cared to count.

Getting in the middle of their fights never ended well for me, so I left it at that.

Ethan shrugged, seeming to lose interest when I didn’t press the issue. Or maybe it was the pointed look Miles was giving us from the front of the hall, silently warning us to stop slacking.

Cooper cleared his throat, and the murmurs around the room quieted. “We all know how important this summit is. I don’t need to remind anyone that this is our first chance in over a decade to rebuild the ties we lost. These next few days aren’t just about tradition—they’re about showing the strength and unity of Pecan Pines.”

The weight of Cooper’s words settled over the room, but for me, they hit differently.

The mention of the summit made my stomach churn. As a kid, I hadn’t cared much about pack politics or alliances.

Back then, summits were just an excuse to explore, push boundaries, and get into trouble while the adults droned on about treaties and territories.

But after what happened at the last one...

Ryder’s coup had blindsided us all. Not long after that summit, he’d challenged Cooper’s father, defeated him in a brutal show of force, and taken over the pack.

What followed were years of isolation, with Ryder cutting us off from the outside world and ruling with a heavy hand.

Deep down, I knew the incident at the Thornebane summit hadn’t caused it.

That stupid game we played—Jackson, Adrian, and I—and what happened afterward wasn’t what tipped the scales.

But part of me couldn’t shake the gnawing fear that it had. That maybe, somehow, it had jinxed everything.

It was irrational. Ridiculous. I knew that. I’d been just a kid, reckless and impulsive, with no grasp of the consequences my actions could have on the pack.

And yet, the guilt clung to me like a shadow, refusing to fade no matter how many times I told myself it wasn’t my fault.

But it didn’t matter now. I couldn’t afford to let those old feelings drag me under again. This summit was too important.

Cooper needed to make a good impression—not just as our new pack alpha, but as one of the youngest to ever lead Pecan Pines. He had to show that we could stand strong again after Ryder’s reign.

And with tensions already simmering between the Silvercrest and Thornebane packs—their proximity to each other ensured that—the last thing anyone needed was more fuel added to the fire.

Cooper’s voice pulled me back to the present. “So here’s what I expect from everyone. First, be on your best behavior—respect the guests, their customs, and their boundaries. Second, if a fight breaks out, de-escalate. No retaliation unless absolutely necessary. Third, stay focused. This summit is about diplomacy, not personal vendettas.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping the room. “And lastly, no... entanglements beyond what’s strictly professional.”

A few chuckles rippled through the group, but I didn’t join in. My stomach twisted uncomfortably at that last rule, even though I had no intention of breaking it.

I glanced down at the clipboard one last time, my thumb brushing over Jackson’s name again.

Memories threatened to pull me under, but I shoved them aside. With a decisive flick, I closed the clipboard and got to my feet.