Cassidy #3
Isaac’s attention returns to me immediately, his side of the bond softening as he looks at me. “Nothing, shortcake.”
“Are you sure?”
Silas reaches over the table and brushes his thumb across my wrist, his dark eyes never leaving mine, his expression perfectly composed.
“Everything’s fine, little moon.” His gaze holds mine for a beat before he adds, “How did things go with your parents?”
The question pulls my attention away, but the brief look between them lingers at the edge of my thoughts.
They saw something that put them both on edge. I’m just not sure what.
“They were fine,” I say, turning my wrist beneath Silas’s touch so I can briefly lace our fingers together. “Tired, mostly. They didn’t get home until nearly six, and then Mum wanted to unpack everything before she sat down.”
Isaac studies me carefully. “And they were okay with you coming out?”
I blink in surprise. “Of course.”
All four men look unconvinced, and I wonder why they have that opinion.
“They’ve got plans with Mum’s sister tonight,” I say with a shrug. “They asked whether I wanted to visit her with them, but she didn’t mind when I said I already had plans.”
“Did she make you feel guilty about it?” Harlan asks, his expression sharpening.
“No.” I blurt it out without thinking and sigh when Silas’s brows raise. “Not… intentionally. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie.”
“We get it, Cass,” Isaac says softly. “You don’t need to defend it.”
Harlan clearly disagrees based on how tight his jaw is clenched.
I squeeze his knee beneath the table before he can become angry on my behalf. “Honestly, it was fine. I’m only late because things ran over, and then I missed the bus. It wasn’t because of them, honest.”
Every single one of them falls silent, the clink of cutlery and quiet chatter from neighbouring tables suddenly seeming much louder.
Their scents seem muted, and even the bonds I have with Isaac and Evander give no clue on their feelings.
I glance between them, confused by the identical expressions of disbelief staring back at me.
Even the conversation from the surrounding tables suddenly seems louder, as if making up for our current atmosphere.
Silas’s fingers stop moving against my wrist, and that’s what hurts more than anything else.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice unintentionally small.
“You got the bus?” he demands.
There’s something strange in his voice. He’s not angry or aggressive, but he’s… off.
I smooth out my frown. “Yes?”
Evander leans forward, resting both forearms on the table. “On your own? On a Saturday night?”
I think I’m still missing whatever this issue is. Clearly, I’ve messed up, but I can’t work out how.
My mind goes completely blank. I glance around at all of them, hoping to reassure them the best I can.
“I use the bus all the time,” I offer. “It’s not a bad ride. No changing buses or anything.”
“You get it regularly at night?” Harlan demands.
Silas might not have been angry, but Harlan sure is. He’s giving me a look I recognise—one that had past me quivering in fear, and has current me doubting myself.
“It’s barely night,” I say carefully. “It’s seven o’clock.”
“It’s dark,” he counters.
“Well, yes, but that’s because it’s November.” I shiver under the intensity of his gaze and lower my eyes to the table in front of me. “I’m sorry. I can tell I’ve made a mistake, but I don’t know what it is to apologise properly.”
Isaac pinches the bridge of his nose. “You came into the city centre on a Saturday night, when there’s plenty of people out partying, in the dark, with your scent flowing free…”
Heat crawls up my neck beneath their collective attention. “But it’s much easier to get the bus into town. Parking is awful, and taxis are expensive for no reason.”
Silas shakes his head once. “No.”
“No?” I ask, blinking back my tears as I look up at him.
He rubs his thumb over my wrist again, brushing against my scent gland with a softness that I’m grateful for.
“Little moon, you don’t do that again,” he says firmly. “Next time you need to go somewhere, you call one of us. One of us will collect you and take you there.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I splutter, my heart thudding uncomfortably. “You all have lives that don’t revolve around… me. You can’t just… no, Silas, we can’t.”
Four expressions darken at once, their scents deepening and blending until they’re all I can breathe in.
Oh, I shouldn’t love that as much as I do.
Not when they’re this upset, after all.
“You are our life,” Harlan says bluntly. “Our mate. You are the one person in this pack that the four of us would die for equally. We love you, Cassie. Being asked by you for help and being able to provide… fuck, I’d be the happiest man—the happiest alpha.”
My chest squeezes, but I refuse to be distracted by romantic declarations when they’re all being unreasonable.
“I’m perfectly capable of taking a bus. I can agree not to do it in the dark, but you can’t forbid me from taking a safe mode of transportation.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest, trying to ignore the quivering of anxiety at arguing with them.
At causing an argument and then dragging it out.
“Nobody said you weren’t capable,” Isaac says gently. “We’re saying you don’t have to, though.”
“But what if you’re busy?” I ask quietly.
“Then we work it out,” Evander replies. “That’s sort of the point of there being four of us.”
“I can’t call one of you every time I need to leave the house,” I whisper, realising very quickly that I’m losing this argument.
“You can,” Harlan says reassuringly. He places his hand on my thigh, squeezing softly.
“You will,” Silas corrects. “Do you understand?”
I turn towards him, and I’m almost amused when Evander leans back to get out of my line of fire.
Silas’s expression remains calm, but something settles into the air between us. His scent deepens, the black tea sharpening until every instinct inside me immediately recognises the quiet authority beneath it.
“Silas—”
“I said, do you understand?”
The subtle bark catches around my spine. My body responds before my pride can.
“Yes,” I whisper, nodding.
His dominance retreats immediately, and before I can decide if I’m angry or not, he huskily murmurs, “Good girl letting your mates take care of you.”
Heat rushes through me, replacing my annoyance with something far less appropriate for a public restaurant as my scent glands tingle beneath his praise.
Silas releases my wrist and slides a menu towards me across the white tablecloth as though he hasn’t just rearranged my entire nervous system.
“Choose what you’d like to eat.”
I glower at him, but take the menu anyway. Evander hides his grin behind his hand.
“Not one word,” I warn.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, daisy.”
Liar.
I scan the menu, already knowing I’ll probably order the arrabbiata Frankie recommended. The cheese garlic bread sounds incredible, too, although I doubt I’ll manage both.
“What’s wrong?” Evander asks, leaning over my shoulder as if he can spot the problem I’m having with the menu.
“I know I want the arrabbiata,” I say softly. “But I also want garlic bread.” I look up at him and shrug. “I’m feeling greedy.”
Evander rolls his eyes. “I’ve ordered two starters, a main, and a side. I’ll finish whatever you don’t,” Evander says.
“That’s because you’re a human bin,” Isaac tells him.
“I’m a growing boy,” Evander protests before kissing below my ear. I shiver as he moves back to his seat.
“White wine, shortcake?” Isaac asks, and I nod. “I would’ve ordered for you arriving like I promised, but someone insisted nobody orders until you get here.”
He gestures at Silas, and I smother a giggle behind my fist.
By the time the waiter approaches our table, everyone has decided what they want. I prepare to give my order when the waiter focuses on me, but Silas speaks first, demanding the attention with the subtle confidence I could never have.
He lists every drink, starter, and main without checking or pausing, and I am weirdly turned on by how effortlessly he does it.
I look around the table, wondering what the others think of him ordering for us all, but none of them seem to care.
Growing up, my parents all ordered for themselves. I even remember a little bicker between my parents when Papa—I think—ordered for my mum, and she was very annoyed.
The difference hits me slowly. Silas did promise me that our pack would be different from what I knew, and it’s a relief to see that, every day, he’s proving that right.
That they all are.
It’s funny, really, that we’ve never actually talked about who… well, leads us. My daddy was the centre of the pack, and he always had the final say on things, as far as I can remember.
But I know that won’t be my role. I wouldn’t want it, even if I could handle it.
Silas, though, he’s just… steadily the one in charge.
Isaac could probably do it if he had to. He notices everything and understands us better than anyone, but Silas just… feels like the one everyone naturally follows.
Harlan and Evander, however… absolutely not.
One is currently glaring at the front door as though the bus might come inside and threaten me personally, whilst the other is trying to steal the breadstick from Isaac’s plate.
A laugh escapes me. Somehow, without any discussion, we’ve found our places in our pack. We’re not just five people trying to force this to work.
We really are a pack.
Dinner disappears far more quickly than I expect. Mostly because the conversation never really stops, and we’re all happily enjoying ourselves.
By the time dessert menus are offered around the table, empty plates have been pushed aside between us, and we’re somehow debating whether Evander should be banned from ordering chili after he nearly cried over his pasta whilst insisting it “wasn’t even spicy.”
“It wasn’t,” Evander repeats.
“You drank three glasses of milk,” Isaac points out.
“I like milk.”
“They don’t even serve milk to anyone except children,” Harlan says with a smirk.
I laugh into my spoon as Harlan reaches over to steal the last bite of Evander’s cheesecake.
“You thieving bastard.”