Chapter 15 - Ronan
There’s an undeniable edge to today’s training session, and the specter of Maddox’s disappearance yesterday hangs heavily over the assembled wolves.
I can hear the whispers, the speculation, and frankly, the drama of it all overshadowing what is supposed to be an important session.
Most of these are young wolves who hope to be betas with a role in protecting the pack one day; they’re here to show their worth and potential.
And, in a way, so am I.
They want to see what kind of alpha I’m going to be and how I’m going to handle Maddox’s challenge.
I look over the crowd of wolves running through their drills and wonder how many of them think Maddox might make a better leader.
How many of them are doubting me? From what I’ve discovered, he’s been targeting the younger ones.
The ones who probably only remember my father's leadership when he was old and in decline couldn’t appreciate that the peace this pack enjoys is because of the good decisions he made long before they even existed.
I know I’m not my father, I’m my own wolf.
But I do believe I have been raised to follow his good example.
My wolf is clear in his desire to lead Starcreek and continue the prosperity we’ve enjoyed all these years.
I’m ready to do things slightly differently, better in some ways, I hope, but still honor the solid foundations he left.
Maddox? His style is all about division and unnecessary drama. He loves to stir up infighting and unhealthy competition. Unfortunately, there are elements of that which can sometimes appeal to the younger wolves who are hungry to prove themselves and rise to the top, even at the expense of others.
I have no doubt that Maddox would have no time for the day-to-day running of the pack, the admin, and the more mundane aspects of keeping everyone happy and our society thriving.
What he wants is the fight—the posturing.
The moment of glory when everyone is watching, and the pack splits into winners and losers, and nothing else matters.
He’d turn this place into a pit, a cycle of endless dominance games and blood feuds, and the first ones to suffer would be the ones who aren’t built for that—the ones who need protecting most.
The young wolves are circling in loose knots, all restless energy and half-hidden glances, waiting for me to announce the plan for today.
Jacob walks toward me, seemingly reading the mood too, and he gives me a nod as if to say it’s now or never.
I raise my voice, and the sound rolls out over the field, silencing all but the birds.
“Listen up.” I pause just long enough to let heads turn.
“We’ll split into groups for the next drill.
You’ll rotate through sparring, field tracking, and strength training.
Everyone gets a turn. And before anyone starts crying about fairness, betas will captain each group, and anyone who thinks they’re too good to learn something today can go home right now. ”
There’s a ripple of laughter, some of it nervous, but the tension has definitely shifted.
This is what they want: a genuine contest, a chance to prove themselves, but also bond with their pack.
I’m not giving them Maddox’s style of bloodsport.
I’m giving them an afternoon of hard, honest work and a reminder that being in this pack means more than just taking down the wolf in front of you.
Jacob takes over, reading from a clipboard.
He’s smart enough to make the teams random, but he still manages to put the right mix of personality and strengths together.
Soon, the field is in full action, and the sound of bodies hitting the grass, barks of wolves half-shifting for advantage, and the sharp, satisfying crack of a good tackle.
The air is full of adrenaline and the scent of sweat, and for the first time in days, I feel the tension in my shoulders loosen.
This is what we’re made for. Not pointless drama, but pushing each other to be better, stronger, tighter as one unit.
The first round of sparring is all teeth and elbows, but I go out of my way to move through the groups, offering pointers and encouragement.
I single out the ones I know Maddox has been targeting—the rookies with more muscle than confidence, or the ones from families who live on the edge of our pack but clearly want to belong, the ones that remind me of Ava.
I make a point to spar with them myself, letting them see I’m not afraid to take a hit or admit when someone gets a clean shot in.
When one of them, a wiry kid named Tanner, actually manages to sweep my legs and pin me for about half a second, the whole field erupts in shock, followed by wild howls of laughter.
I let him help me up, clapping him so hard on the back he almost goes down.
“Nice move,” I say, and it feels good to mean it.
By the time we break for water, the sun is high and hot, and everyone’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed.
The lines between friend and rival have begun to blur.
Young wolves who used to eye each other like competitors are now sprawled side by side in the grass, passing bottles and joking about whose ass hurts the most. Jacob tosses me a water bottle, and I catch it one-handed.
He’s grinning, sweat running down his jaw.
“Not bad, not bad at all,” he says, nodding toward the clusters of kids lying on the grass.
I wipe my forehead with a sleeve and look out over the field.
The difference from when we started is palpable.
The pack is already reordering itself, a hundred small social adjustments playing out in real time.
I see Tanner, the kid who dropped me, suddenly at the center of a small circle, his face caught between pride and disbelief as the older betas clap him on the back.
I see two others who used to only run with their own now sitting under a tree as they compare matching bruises from their earlier spar.
This is the pack I want. Not a cult of personality, but a living, evolving family.
I watch Jacob as he works the sidelines, bantering and trash-talking the exhausted pups while he tosses out water bottles.
Jacob has a way of intimidating others, even when he doesn’t mean to; it’s a habit he’s developed over years of playing enforcer.
But today, they’re just looking at him with awe after he put them through their paces in the drills.
The field is loud with laughter, but it’s the right kind of noise.
Even the ones who lost every round are grinning, showing off their bruises and bloody lips with pride.
The only one who hangs back is Colt, the youngest son of the Simons family, who’s been shadowing Maddox for years and, by all accounts, never really fit in anywhere else.
He hovers at the edge of the huddle, uncertain, and I make a point to walk over and hand him a bottle myself.
He flinches, just a little, when I clap his shoulder, and his eyes dart to mine, wary.
“You did good today,” I say, then, lowering my voice, “don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
” He nods, and I see the moment he decides to believe me, because his shoulders drop, and the wariness in his eyes flickers out. Small victories.
I head over to where Jacob is restocking the water and grab one for myself.
Jacob claps my back, leaning against the store.
“This is exactly what they needed,” he says, voice pitched low for my ears only.
“Get them sweating, remind them what a real pack feels like.” He glances sidelong, a half-smile ghosting his mouth.
“You did good today. Your father would approve. He’d have loved this setup. ”
I grunt, but the words settle something inside me. I watch the kids sprawled in the grass, faces shiny with exertion, and the edge of my mouth lifts despite myself.
Jacob unscrews a bottle and takes a long swig. “Any word from Maddox?”
I shake my head. “Not a trace. He’s either holed up waiting for the challenge or perhaps quietly trying to gauge support before he shows his face. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t show for the formal call-out, though. I think he’ll wait and make a spectacle at the ceremony.”
Jacob wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s not the only one watching. The elders are already discussing the need for extra security. You want more guards for your place?”
I frown, thinking of Ava and Emily back at the house.
Ava’s unwavering calm and protectiveness of Emily have been tugging at my heart ever since last night.
Seeing her with my sister made me see her place in my family clearly for the first time, and the way she told me not to worry reminded me of how she always made my wolf feel calmer.
I know she’s fighting her omega nature, but perhaps she’s not the only one fighting the union.
My wolf always wanted her. Hell, I think every part of me did.
I already have one beta watching the place because of how intense Ava’s heat is, but adding more now feels almost like admitting I can’t look after my own.
“Maybe. But I don’t want the whole pack to think I’m hiding behind guards. ”
Jacob arches an eyebrow. “Folks will just see you’re protecting those that are vulnerable.”
“That I can’t look after myself?” I snap, harsher than intended.
Jacob sighs. “You can’t be everywhere at once.”
He’s right, of course. I take another swig of water before nodding.
“I’ll see to it nearer to the ceremony, if he hasn’t shown his face before then.
” I look over at Jacob, the exhaustion of the day etched on his face, too.
“I want to thank you for being there for Emily. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been passing when you did. I never should have let him near her.”
I don’t miss the way Jacob’s hand tightens on the water bottle, crushing it as he drains its contents. “He was never good enough for her. Maddox’s entire problem is that he thought he was.” Can’t say I disagree with that. “Is she still with Ava, at the house?”
I shake my head. “She was down to help out at the library and didn’t want to miss it. I’ve got Garrison taking her there and dropping her back at hers, getting some extra security installed too.”
Jacob watches me for a moment, and there’s a glint in his eye that’s equal parts mischief and something more serious. I don’t trust it. He wipes his mouth, tosses the empty bottle onto the growing mound of plastic, and leans a little closer.
“So, be honest, how’s it really going with Ava?” The question is low, but I can hear the curiosity and care behind it, even if he tries to cover it with a grin. “You going to have her bred and nesting before the ceremony?”
I roll the water bottle between my hands, not looking at him.
“It’s complicated,” I say, and the words sound so stupid, so adolescent, that I almost laugh.
“She’s…she’s not like I remember.” I wince, knowing how lame it sounds, but Jacob doesn’t mock me.
Instead, he just waits, letting the silence drag out until I fill it.
“We were together, before she left,” I say, softer than I mean to. “A long time ago. Nobody knew. And when her family got cast out, I let her go. Let everyone believe I barely even knew her.”
Jacob’s expression looks a lot less shocked than I was expecting. He simply gives a slow nod. “I did wonder when you picked her so damn fast. Thought you had to know something.”
Jacob leans back against the field house, arms folded, regarding me with a new intensity. “So, what, you’re ashamed you wanted her?” His tone is blunt, but there’s nothing cruel about it. If anything, he sounds exasperated on my behalf.
I can feel my jaw clench, a heat prickling up my neck even as I try to brush it off.
“I’m not—” I start, but the protest collapses under its own weight.
I scrub a hand through my hair, watching the last of the pups drag themselves upright as the next round of sparring is called.
“It’s not that simple,” I say. “Her family, my father—”
“Your father’s dead,” Jacob interrupts, and for a second, I want to hit him, but he holds my gaze, unflinching. “You’re the alpha now, or you will be. You get to decide what matters. You picked her, you want her? Own it.”
I look down, wondering if I can find the words, then back up at Jacob.
“I do want her,” I say, finally, and the words feel both like surrender and relief.
“I always did. Even when I shouldn’t have.
” The admission tastes strange in my mouth, but seeing her with Ava earlier and the way she makes me feel when we’re together only confirms it’s true.
I brace myself for Jacob to laugh at my sudden vulnerability.
Instead, he just grins. “Then go claim what’s yours, man. Properly. Hell, do it now.” He claps me on the shoulder, surprisingly gentle, then turns back toward the field. “I’ll finish up here. You’ve done enough.”
I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Go on. I’ll run them through the last drill, and you owe me a beer for every one of these young pups who doesn’t puke.” His grin is feral, and I know he means it.
There’s nothing left to do but leave. The thought of returning to the house, to Ava, fills me with a kind of nervous heat that momentarily makes me forget all about Maddox.
I haven’t let myself really think about what it will mean to finish this—her heat, the unspoken promise of finally knotting her and telling her that I want this to be a genuine mating.
I head for my truck, knowing I’m finally going to do the right thing. Something I should have done long ago, and just owned what my wolf demands and Ava deserves.