Page 97 of Wild Games

The meal continues with the ease of pack gatherings. Stories get told and retold, each version more embellished than the last. Someone brings up the time I had to stitch up three wolves after they decided to race through the bramble patches on a dare. Another recalls the emergency delivery during the worst storm in years.

"Remember when those youngsters came in with poison ivy in places poison ivy should never be?" Maggie laughs. "Jax's face when he realized where they'd been rolling around..."

"Medical confidentiality." I protest, but everyone's already laughing.

"What about when he reset Tom's shoulder?" someone else chimes in. "The crack echoed through the whole clinic."

"It echoed because Tom screamed like a pup." I clarify.

"Did not." Tom protests. "That was a manly yell of surprise."

More laughter. These are the moments I'll miss—especially now that I’m joining in more and more—these wolves who’ve stuck with me despite everything.

Brief conversations, genuine but not overwrought, continue as the evening wears, with a steady stream of pack members stopping by our table.

Tom thanks me again for saving his leg after the hunting accident. Sarah mentions she'll name her next pup something terrible in my honour. Even the wolves who used to cross to the other side of the path when they saw me coming offer firm handshakes and simple well wishes.

"Take care of yourself," old Matt says gruffly. He'd been one of the most vocal about not trusting me when I first came back. Now his handshake is solid, real. "And take care of her."

"Planning on it." I assure him.

Lynn slides into the seat Callum vacated, bringing a fresh beer for each of us. "So, nervous?"

"About?" Camille asks.

"New pack, new dynamics, wolves who don't know you." She shrugs. "It's a lot of change at once."

"Change is good," I say, and meaning it. Through the bond, I feel Camille's agreement.

"Plus, we'll have each other," Camille adds, her fingers tightening on mine.

"That helps." Lynn grins. "The mating bond is still new. You'll be useless for weeks, completely distracted by each other."

"We're professionals." Camille protests.

"Sure. That's why Jax has been staring at your neck for the past five minutes."

I force my gaze away from where my mark sits on Camille's skin.

Lynn laughs at my expression. "Called it. You two are going to scandalize Riverside."

"We'll be perfect pack members," Camille says primly.

"Bullshit," Lynn counters cheerfully. "But that's what they need. Wolves who are so wrapped up in each other that they remind everyone how to be happy."

Dean appears at our table as the gathering starts to wind down. "Walk with me," he says.

I squeeze Camille's hand then follow my brother outside. The night air is cool after the warmth of the dining room. Instead of heading to the parking lot, Dean turns toward the back of the packhouse.

The old oak looms in the darkness, its massive trunk scarred from generations of young wolves learning to climb. Its branches spread wide enough to shelter half the yard.

"Figured we should end where we started," Dean says.

I look up at the tree that holds so many memories. Learning to climb before we could properly shift. Racing to see who could reach the top first. Hiding in its branches when the world got too heavy.

"I was pretty far gone."

"You were hurting." He turns to face me. "But you came back. Fought for it when most wolves would have given up."