Page 25

25

REYES

I t’s easy to lose myself in the haze of Tilda’s presence, the pleasure she stirs in me making it hard to focus on the harder truths. But those truths don’t disappear, and one of them is this.

I have to tell the pack.

And not everyone will be happy about my decision.

When we walk into the community center for dinner, Tilda tucked against my side with my arm wrapped protectively around her, I can feel the weight of every gaze in the room. The scrape of chairs and low murmur of conversation falls silent as we enter. My eyes immediately seek out the people I’m most concerned about. Frankie is at one of the long tables, her expression a careful mask, but the tight set of her jaw and her crossed arms give her away. She doesn’t look pleased.

Will sits a few chairs down from her, his posture casual, but I can tell he’s on edge. Frankie and Will don’t get along on the best of days, and this is bound to add fuel to that fire. I’ve always suspected Frankie sees Will as a potential threat, especially since he’d likely be next in line if something happened to me. I don’t know exactly how the transfer of power works—it’s not like we have a guidebook—but if it comes down to strength, Will would inherit the mantle.

That is, unless Frankie challenged him. And if I know anything about her, it’s that she wouldn’t hesitate.

I glance down at Tilda as we move through the room, her hand gripping my arm lightly but firmly, as if she can sense the tension. Her shoulders are squared, her head held high. She’s ready for this, even if I’m not sure I am.

The pack watches us with wary curiosity, some faces unreadable, others showing flashes of surprise, uncertainty, and even quiet approval. But it’s Frankie’s reaction I keep coming back to—the sharp glint in her eye, the barely restrained energy in her movements. Whatever she’s thinking, it’s not good.

I tighten my hold on Tilda, and we move toward an open space at the end of one of the tables. It’s time to get this over with.

Grant gives me two thumbs up and a wide grin. Suyin and Peaches are sitting together, smiling too—so they, at least, approve. Mateo leans against the threshold to the kitchen, our resident teacher, Magnolia, chatting quietly with him. I think he’s happy for me, but it’s hard to tell when Mateo himself is always so melancholic. Charlotte and Elijah are so wrapped up in each other that I don’t think they’ve even noticed Tilda and I came in together, but I have a feeling they’d be the last people to judge us. I get a few condescending looks from the more devout members of the pack—those who probably disapprove of my decision to abandon my vows of celibacy—but other than that, everyone seems…just fine.

I wonder if they’ll be fine with all this when I tell them we’re going to try for an alliance with Homestead.

I take a seat in my usual spot with Will and Grant across from me, Tilda sitting with us. To her credit, she doesn’t balk at the attention, even when I know she hates it. She’s still got a touch of afterglow about her from our tryst in the barn, our scents combined to the point where no one could doubt what we’ve been up to.

“So congratulations on the fucking,” Grant says, breaking the silence. “It sounded excellent, ten out of ten.”

Tilda blinks her eyes rapidly, staring at the redhead as her jaw drops. She sputters a little as she collects herself, shaking her head. “Wow. Uh…”

“Ignore him,” Will says. “He’s an asshole.”

Tilda recovers quickly. “I never had the pleasure of visiting a frat house before the Convergence, so thanks for enlightening me to what that would be like,” she mutters.

I kick him under the table. “A little dignity, please.”

“You know that’s something I am all out of,” Grant snickers. “In fact, I was born without it.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Tilda deadpans.

They fall into a back and forth, and I watch with what I quickly realize is joy. To see her interacting with my closest friends like this…

I still can’t even wrap my head around the fact that she’s here—that my mate is here with me—let alone that she actually belongs. For the first time, I start to wonder if we should plan to marry like Charlotte and Elijah did, if she wants children…

She glances over at me just as the thought crosses my mind, a flash of apprehension in response to my curiosity. We still have so much to talk about, to discuss, to plan.

We just have to deal with Homestead, then we have our whole lives ahead of us.

“You should talk to them,” Will says, interrupting my thoughts. “Some people have questions about what’s going on.”

“Do you want me to say something?” Tilda asks. “I don’t like it, but I can talk to people one on one.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” I say. “Let me.”

I stand up, and the room goes silent as I climb onto the wooden bench underneath me. It creaks slightly, but I’ve done this a million times before, and everyone here knows that when I take this position, it’s time to listen to the Alpha Prime. I settle into my power as Prime, staring around the room and finding the eyes of all those who seem to have doubts.

“I wanted to clarify some things that happened yesterday, and to nip any speculation or rumors in the bud,” I announce to the room. “You may have heard that Tilda here is my mate…and it’s the truth. We’ve decided to make it official, and she’ll be staying here.”

Frankie crosses her arms in the corner, her gaze sweeping over the others…but no one says anything. Did people really have so little faith in my ability to keep to my vows? I’m actually shocked there are so few questions.

“If you’ve talked to Tilda, you may have heard about her town of Homestead,” I say. “It’s a former Heavenly Host encampment about two hours north of us, and well…it’s been abandoned by the Angels. They’re in dire straits now, running out of medicine and supplies, but they have something we need: farmland and fresh produce.”

A murmur goes through the crowd. “Why don’t we just take it?” someone yells from the kitchen.

Tilda stiffens.

“Because that’s not who we are,” I say. “Homestead is weak right now, but that doesn’t mean we should take advantage of them. Instead, I want us all to be in a place of strength…which is why we’re going to negotiate with the Homesteaders tomorrow.”

A rumble of concern grows in the pack. “But they’re Crusaders,” Kenji says, speaking again. “Can we really trust them?”

“They’re not Crusaders,” I say. “Tilda said she was only one of a few people who even fought—most are the elderly and ordinary people who have been in Homestead since before the war; some have families. And if we could get them on our side, we may be able to extend our reach…and maybe even try to take back the whole state.”

That gets a reaction; a murmur goes through the crowd, some people nodding along.

“Homestead is the last stronghold between us and another shield generator for the Celestial Curtain,” I say. “The more sky we leave exposed, the more room there is for Resistance air support–even Legion ships, if they realize we’re worth fighting for. If we can get them on our side, we can keep chipping away at the Host’s control over the south.”

“And then what?” Frankie demands. “More mouths to feed, more weak people to protect.”

“They have resources,” Tilda says, surprising me. She doesn’t like speaking in front of groups, but she’s on her feet now. “Guns, ammo, cars, and most importantly, horses and livestock. Things the pack could use, and that I am happy to negotiate for.”

“She’s only doing this because she wants to help her sister,” Frankie scoffs.

“That’s right, I am,” she says, putting her hands on her hips. “And can any of you say you wouldn’t do the same? I fight for the people I love, and I’ll fight for you all, too.”

That shuts everyone up…but Tilda isn’t done. Before I can stop her, she’s striding over to Frankie and standing in front of the blonde, still with a defiant look on her face. Frankie stands and looks her in the eye, a snarl on her lips.

“I know you have a problem with me, and that’s okay,” Tilda says. “I’m not an easy person to stomach. But I’ll fight for you, too.”

Silence hangs between the two of them, but I watch with astonishment as Frankie’s snarl ebbs into nothing more than a grimace. She lowers her chin, then her eyes…then she sits back down.

My chest swells with pride at my mate—at this reminder of just how right we are for each other.

God could not have sent me a better match.

Tilda turns back toward me and I can’t suppress the fierce, proud smile that bubbles to the surface. I look around at the pack and they all seem to be thinking the same thing: that this woman is one of us.

“Does anyone else have questions?” I ask, letting my gaze sweep across the room. My voice is calm but firm, a deliberate effort to steady the energy in the room. “We’re happy to answer them, and we won’t leave this room until everyone is heard. I promise you that.”

Grant clears his throat, leaning forward slightly with a curious glint in his eye. “Guess I’m just wondering if you need any backup?”

Will barks out a laugh, the sound sharp and unexpected, drawing a few startled glances from around the room. “Backup?” he echoes, shaking his head. “Come on, Grant. You think Reyes needs babysitters?”

Grant shrugs, unbothered. “Just seems like we’re heading into pretty dangerous territory. It wouldn’t hurt to have extra muscle.”

I step down from the small platform at the head of the room, closing the distance between myself and the pack. At this point, it’s not about speeches or declarations anymore—it’s about making sure every single person here feels heard and valued. I stop near Grant, offering him a nod. “We appreciate the offer,” I say. “But we’re going to go alone. This is something we need to handle quietly. Too many people could escalate things.”

“And if you don’t make it back?” Frankie pipes up from her corner of the room, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a knife.

I grimace, turning to meet her sharp, calculating gaze. The question is brutal, but not unexpected. “If I don’t make it back…” I take a steadying breath. “You defer to Will and Suyin on any decisions.”

The room falls silent. Grant’s eyes go wide, darting to Suyin as if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before. Does he think he should have been named instead? Or is there something else brewing beneath the surface? Whatever it is, he recovers quickly, nodding along as though it’s all fine.

Frankie, on the other hand, doesn’t move. Her expression remains unreadable, her fingers drumming idly on the table in front of her. I get the sense she’s filing this moment away for later—calculating, strategizing.

I let out a slow exhale and step back, returning to where Tilda waits by my chair. Her hand brushes against mine as I sit down, the smallest gesture of reassurance that helps ground me.

“Now,” I say, raising my voice again to address the room. “If anyone has any more questions, I’ll be here all night. Let’s eat.”