Chapter 22 #3
Foster pointed to a shelf above her workstation where three small stuffed bats sat in a neat row, each wearing a tiny colored ribbon around its neck.
One green, one black, and one bright red.
It drove me crazy that she’d chosen my eye color, but my brothers’ hair color.
My little bat should have a yellow ribbon! It was only parallel!
“Oh, those are… They help me focus.” With pink cheeks, Seri reached up and plucked the one with the green ribbon from its perch. “This is Simmy,” she held it out for his inspection. “And that’s Koko with the black ribbon, and Zoodle with the red.”
Foster pressed his lips together so hard, they nearly disappeared into his face.
“Simmy, huh?” he rumbled finally, glancing my way with a gleam in his eyes that promised this would not be forgotten.
I met his gaze with a level stare that clearly communicated, Laugh and die.
“They keep me company when the boys are out hunting,” she continued, oblivious to our silent exchange. “Sometimes it gets scary watching them fight monsters, and having the bats helps.”
Just like that, Foster’s amusement melted away, replaced by something softer, more understanding. He reached out and patted the top of plushie Simmy’s head.
“Smart thinking,” he said. “Everybody needs backup sometimes.”
The approval in his tone made Seri beam, and I found myself unexpectedly grateful for his kindness.
How could anyone say no to her happiness, her radiant smile, the pure excitement in her soft gray eyes?
Neither I nor my brothers could refuse that, and apparently Foster felt the same way because he submitted to everything with good grace and humor.
“So you’ll be my mission partner?” she asked, looking up at him hopefully.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Little Boss.”
I leaned against the doorframe, watching them.
It made me feel a hell of a lot better having him here with her while we were off hunting.
He’d proven himself more than capable of being a bodyguard.
More importantly, he seemed genuinely protective of Seri in a way that wasn’t threatening to our bond.
Eventually, Seri would realize he was bored and longing for action. Alpha wolves weren’t built to sit in a room and watch a screen, even one as impressive as the holo table. For now, though, he was content to humor her.
Despite his formidable size and battle-hardened exterior, he had a gentleness with her that reminded me of Ko.
Not the same intensity, but a careful awareness of his own strength, a deliberate tempering of his presence to make her comfortable.
It was, I had to admit, exactly what she needed: Someone strong enough to protect her, but gentle enough not to frighten her.
And for now, at least, Foster seemed willing to be that person.
Something I hadn’t anticipated was how quickly Brumous would attach himself to Foster.
The dire wolf pup had lost his place in Seri’s bed when she moved into ours.
She had tried to insist that Brummy sleep with us, but I’d held firm on that boundary.
I valued uninterrupted access to my wife without a furry, anxious barrier between us.
And, to be honest, the poor pup often became agitated by the sounds coming from our room, misinterpreting our intimate moments as potential harm to his beloved goddess.
Thankfully, the solution had presented itself organically when Brummy latched onto “Alpha Toast.” By the second night, the pup was sleeping in Foster’s bed, over the moon to have him willing to share.
Wolves denned together naturally, slept in puppy piles for warmth and comfort.
For a lone wolf like Foster, who’d clearly been solitary for far too long, and a traumatized pup who craved safety, the setup was doing them both a world of good.
Foster’s impact extended to training Addison.
Our father had trained us through pain and humiliation.
He’d broken us down to rebuild us in his image, perfect weapons, obedient sons.
Where Father would’ve had the boy doing knuckle pushups on gravel, Foster used gentle techniques, turning training into games and setting achievable goals.
Addison gained confidence and started standing taller, speaking louder, and even smiling when mastering defensive moves under Foster’s guidance.
“Kids need to know they’re safe before they can learn to fight,” Foster shrugged when Ko admired his approach. “Fear’s a shit teacher.”
And I couldn’t help but wonder what our lives might have been like if someone like Foster had been there during our formative years. If we’d been taught to protect without being broken first.
#
At dawn one morning, I headed to the kitchen to fill my water bottle after my workout.
Nodding a good morning at Mrs. Wentzel and Addison, I thought back to last evening’s session.
I’d entered the gym to find Seri white-knuckling the chin-up bar, feet dangling six inches from the stool she’d kicked aside.
She’d been panting, trembling with effort, as Koa had hovered nearby, spotting her with hands outstretched like she might shatter.
Reaching her limit, she’d dropped to the floor and turned hopeful eyes to Koa.
“Ten seconds,” he’d rumbled with a grin, and Zane had wolf-whistled from the weight bench.
“Call Guinness! World record for cutest core workout!”
“I couldn’t even do five last week,” she’d confided, breathless but glowing.
“You’re extraordinary,” I had told her, meaning every syllable.
Her pink cheeks had been reward enough, but the kiss she’d given me afterward, confident in a way her first kisses hadn’t been, suggested she was growing stronger in more ways than one.
Before I left the kitchen, I checked her chart taped on the refrigerator, my eyes skimming over the tiny bat stickers that marked her progress.
Two other charts had joined hers this week: Foster’s caffeine intake, which she marked with frowning gray clouds for each cup, and Addison’s training successes, which she marked with wolf stickers.
In the margins, she had doodled us all as superheroes and, above her chart, she’d written, “Proof I’m fighting! ”
I watched her progress with a pride that bordered on reverence.
Her BMI increased by 1.2 points, her muscle mass was improving, and her bone density scans showed early signs of positive change.
Our Seri was healing, not just magically, but physically.
Each pound gained, each successful repetition of an exercise, each nightmare-free sleep was a victory over what had been done to her.
As I saluted her artwork with my water bottle, Addison wandered over.
“Senor Lobo is outside with Foster,” he said in his soft voice.
I gave the boy a nod and went out the back door to find Foster sprawled on the lawn off the patio, Brummy flopped across his chest, both of them dozing in a patch of early morning sunlight.
“The fuck’s wrong with your wife, Cas?” His eyes were still closed, like the sun was too good to give up just yet.
“What do you mean?” I demanded, almost turning on my heel and going in search of her. “Did she tell you she was worried about something? Did she mention feeling sick? Did she—”
“Chill, Captain Catastrophe. I’m talking about the way she basically adopted me on sight. Who the hell does that?”
“Have you seen the rest of her menagerie of fuck-ups?” I scoffed as I sat down beside him. “Me, Zane, Koa. Addison. Brumous. Hell, she even took Father under her wing!”
“That’s what I’m saying. A tiny nineteen-year-old girl with a traumatic past shouldn’t look at a giant thirty-year-old man with blood-stained hands and think, ‘Oh, yeah. That one’s safe.’ ”
“You think it was any different for us?” I scowled as I reached over and stroked Brumous’ fur, earning a soft woof.
“When she started doling out silly nicknames and kisses and letting us touch her? You think we didn’t know we were unworthy of it?
I damn near had a panic attack the first time she told me she loved me. ”
“Yeah. Still, you’re her husbands, and I’m just—”
“Her first friend. Ever.”
“What?” He cracked his eyes open and stared at me.
“You’re her first real friend.”
“I’m surprised you boys are okay with that.” The look in his onyx eyes was half challenge, half wonder.
“At first, I was afraid of her being disappointed,” I admitted. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to stick around. Didn’t want her to get attached just to have to tell you goodbye.”
“No, I meant surprised you trust me that much around her.”
“We trust her with you,” I corrected, “and we trust that you know what would happen if you ever crossed the line.”
“I wouldn’t touch what’s yours.” He shot me a look of disgust.
“We never doubted that. I’m talking about taking her friendship for granted. Of abusing her trust, not ours.”
Foster’s jaw worked silently for a moment before he exhaled through his nose with a sound like steam escaping a pressure valve.
“First friend,” he repeated, staring up at the clouds as if they might spell out instructions. “Moon Mother help me.”
Should I tell him the truth? How her quiet persistence had dismantled every defense we’d built? How her laughter made Evermere feel like a home? How three predators had become willing captives to one fragile-seeming girl’s light?
“She sees things we don’t,” I said at last. “Not just magic. People. Saw through our bullshit when even we couldn’t. She collects broken things because she knows how to put them back together.”
The silence stretched taut between us until Foster muttered, “Fucking terrifying little girl.”
“She makes all of it worthwhile,” I admitted. “The madness, the mess, the war in our heads.”
“That’s why you three let her drag strays home?”
A dry laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“You think we let Seri do anything? Moonlight drowns stars when she sets her mind to something.”
Brummy yawned dramatically, exposing razor-sharp teeth still flecked with remnants of Mrs. Wentzel’s beef Wellington from dinner last night. Foster ran his scarred hands gently over the pup’s back.
“You boys are all fucked.”
“Spectacularly.” I rose, brushing grass from my joggers. “Training starts in twenty.”
“Wouldn’t miss watching Zane eat my fist.”
The image of my brother’s inevitable humiliation carried me through Evermere’s sun-dappled halls until I found Seri exactly where I’d left her: Buried in our bed with Koa’s arms locked around her waist and Zane’s face smushed into her breasts.
“Celebration tonight,” I announced, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “For our wife’s successful integration of hostile forces.”
“Hostile?” Koa didn’t open his eyes.
“Have you seen Fozzerella’s biceps?” Zane mumbled. “Those things could crack walnuts.”
Seri made a soft noise of protest as I peeled away my brothers, then the duvet cocoon. Her lips were still stained blue from whatever candy she’d smuggled into bed, and the sight punched through my ribs, this girl who’d somehow become our everything.
“Beloved.” I kissed her temple, inhaling dragon fruit dew and her. “We’re proud of you.”
“Because Foster keeps us in toilet paper?” She blinked sleep-softened eyes.
“For being you.” My thumb traced along her jawline. “We’ll have a victory feast this evening.”
“At which I vote she strips for us!” Zane smirked, then yelped as I lunged and yanked him from bed by his ankle.
“I’m proud of you three, too.” Seri caught my wrist before I could throttle him. “For letting him be my friend. For giving him a chance. I think he was meant to be here with us. Like he finally found a place where he could fit.”
An image popped into my mind. The plaque at the gates. Evermere’s motto. I’d thought it was a bunch of poetic bullshit when we’d first arrived here, but Seri hadn’t. She’d believed it. That there was hope here. That there could be peace and happiness in our new beginning.
And for once in my life, I was never so glad to be proven wrong.