Page 14

14

FIVE YEARS LATER

Marie

" M om! Cooper stole my toy again!"

Rex's indignant shout echoes through the packhouse as small feet thunder down the hallway. At four years old, our eldest is already showing alpha tendencies—and a remarkable talent for tattling on his baby brother.

"Did not," Cooper's defensive squeal follows immediately after.

Setting down the staff schedules I'm reviewing, I share an amused look with Sarah across my desk. Five years into being Luna, and I've learned to take interruptions in stride.

"We'll finish this later," I tell her, rising from my chair. "But I love your idea about the seasonal spa packages. Draft up the details?"

Sarah nods, gathering her papers. She's come so far from that confrontational young wolf who once fought over booking systems. Now she manages our entire spa operation.

I find the boys in the great room, Rex trying to climb the bookshelf, while Cooper clutches the plastic figurine behind his back, bottom lip trembling. At three, he's more sensitive than his brother, but twice as sneaky.

"Cooper," I say firmly, holding out my hand. He hands it over with a dramatic sigh that makes me bite back a smile. "What have we said about taking things without asking?"

"Not to," he mumbles, scuffing his foot on the carpet.

"Rex, what have we said about climbing furniture?"

Rex slides down with a guilty look. "Dangerous."

"Right. Now, who wants to help me set up the treat table for after the pack dinner?"

Both boys immediately brighten. Pack dinner is their favourite, with everyone gathered in the huge dining room, sharing food and stories.

The full moon run is special, but more for the grown-ups, as the young pups still to get their wolves can’t join in yet. This is for everyone.

Jonathan says it reminds him of his own childhood, when packs still maintained these traditions regularly.

Many don't anymore. Especially not Silver Creek.

The thought of Graham's pack sends a familiar chill down my spine. His isolation policy has grown stricter over the years. No pack members allowed to leave without his express permission. No visitors. Even the council's quarterly check-ins have been reduced to phone calls.

We hear things, of course. Whispers of unrest. Young wolves desperate to find mates. Businesses failing as they lose access to the outside world. His fated mate, found not long after our encounter, became unwell.

But we can't help it if they won't let us in. It’s overstepping the mark, the council says. They refuse to act despite our concerns for the welfare of the rest of the pack.

"Luna?" Michael appears in the doorway, expression grim. "Council call. They need both you and Jonathan."

I nod, already knowing this won't be good news.

"Boys, go with Aunt Helen to the kitchen." My sister-in-law appears right on cue, scooping up Cooper while Rex races ahead.

Being luna means always having pack members ready to help with the pups.

In Jonathan's office, the video call shows three senior council members, their faces grave.

"Alpha Jones, Luna." The head counsellor greets us. "We have a situation with Silver Creek. Luna Reynolds was found dead this morning."

My heart stops. Graham's mate. The mother of his children.

"Suicide, or so he says," another counsellor adds, tone sceptical. I don’t need to ask who he’s referring to. There’s no way Graham is letting anyone else get in to see what really happened.

Jonathan's hand finds mine under the desk as we listen to the details. The council's frustrated by their limited options. They can't prove foul play, can't override pack autonomy without evidence. So, the stalemate continues, with all sorts probably happening behind those borders, and us, powerless to intervene.

"We'll increase patrol. Jonathan assures them. "Watch for any pack members trying to flee."

After the call ends, we sit in heavy silence.

"Those poor children," I whisper finally. Dean and Maya. Graham boasted of their arrival, sounding every inch the proud dad, but without a mother now, who knows what will happen to them or how they’re being raised.

Jonathan pulls me close, his chest rumbling with agitation and suppressed emotion. "We'll help them if we can. When we can."

That night at the pack dinner, I hold our boys a little tighter.

Around us, our pack laughs and shares stories. Young wolves tease each other while older ones offer wisdom. New mates are welcomed warmly. A precious five-year-old girl proudly shows off her first partial shift to general applause.

I can’t get them out of my mind.

This is how pack life should be. Not hidden away behind walls of fear and control.

"You okay?" Jonathan murmurs, noticing my distraction.

I squeeze his hand. "Just grateful. For all of this."

He understands. We built this together, this warm, thriving community. And somewhere, not far away, another pack is slowly suffocating under the weight of one wolf's paranoia.

"Story," Cooper demands, climbing into my lap as the dessert plates are cleared away.

Other pups gather round, knowing it's time for one of Jonathan’s elaborate tales about wolves of old, and the battles that used to be fought over the territory we live on.

As Jonathan’s voice carries across the room, the older teens disappear to the game room to find something else to entertain them, and I send up a silent prayer for the wolves across the bridge.

And hope that Graham steps up now that his mate is gone.