Chapter 25
ROWAN
Holy hell. What just happened?
I mean, I was there, standing in the pack living room.
I saw the wolves bow to me, one after another, their heads lowering in instinctive acknowledgment.
I watched the vampires—seemingly proud creatures who bow to no one lightly—stand in silent respect.
Even the witches, with their knowing eyes and centuries of guarded power, looked at me as though something inevitable had just unfolded.
I saw it all. With my own eyes.
But seriously…
What the hell?
It wasn’t enough that I’m Ashmark and capable of stripping supernaturals of their power. That alone would have been more than enough for one lifetime. But this?
Alpha Queen.
I was wondering how long it would take you to spiral, Wolf says smugly. Quit panicking. We might die tonight. Maybe enjoy the time you have with your mom.
I glance across the room at Mom, who’s standing near the small kitchenette inside Cade’s and my room, carefully stirring two mugs of hot chocolate as though we’re not hours away from a confrontation that could alter the supernatural world.
The scent of melted chocolate and sugar drifts through the space, warm and achingly familiar.
It’s the same smell that used to fill our house when I was little and had scraped knees or a bruised heart or just a terrible day.
Not that today is a bad day, but…
Wait a minute. My attention goes back to Wolf. Did you know about this?
She doesn’t hesitate. Maybe.
You couldn’t have warned me?
This was more fun for both of us, she replies, entirely unapologetic. I promise.
Freaking beast.
“Here you go, honey.” Mom presses one of the steaming mugs into my hands, extra marshmallows floating on top in a way that makes my throat tighten for entirely different reasons. “I figured you might need the extra sugar.”
I don’t know where she found them in the pack house, but I’m not questioning miracles. I wrap my fingers around the ceramic and let the warmth seep into my palms, grounding me.
She joins me on the bed, sitting cross-legged just like I am, facing me like we’ve done a thousand times before.
“Say the ugly thing,” she says gently.
A laugh escapes me through the tears already threatening to spill. “Really? Doesn’t that feel a bit selfish right now?”
She shakes her head without hesitation. “Absolutely not. Say the ugly thing so we can talk it out before you lose your cool at the wrong time.”
The memories come back so vividly that it almost hurts.
Middle school. Hormones. Girls who whispered.
Boys who laughed. I would storm through our front door, furious or humiliated or both, and she would sit me down just like this and make me say every awful, petty, dramatic thought out loud.
It was our ritual—a contained storm where I was allowed to be messy and unfiltered.
Afterward, when I’d calmed down, she would gently help me see the other side. She’d ask me who I wanted to be in those moments and whether the version of me lashing out matched that girl. I used to hate that part.
Now I understand it shaped everything.
“I don’t want to do this,” I confess, and once the words start, they don’t stop.
“I want to run away. I want to hide from this world the way you did and not have to fight for the life I want and deserve. I don’t want to be Ashmark or Malrik’s nemesis.
I didn’t do anything to deserve the target painted on my back.
I don’t want to feel responsible for a supernatural world I barely understand.
I would love to tell them all to piss off and only worry about myself because that would be safer.
They’re going to expect too much from me and—”
My voice breaks, and the tears fall freely now.
“It’s not fair.”
She doesn’t rush to contradict me. Instead, she gently takes the mug from my hands and sets both of them on the nightstand before reaching for me. Her fingers wrap around mine firmly, anchoring.
“You are absolutely right,” she says, her voice steady and filled with conviction.
“None of this has been fair. My running away to save you wasn’t fair.
Losing all that time with your father wasn’t fair.
The way your grandmother was manipulated into forcing you here wasn’t fair.
What Malrik has done to you and to this world wasn’t fair. I hear you and agree with it all.”
I sniffle and search her face. “But?”
She shakes her head immediately. “No ‘but.’ This sucks. We can sit with that. We can acknowledge that it hurts and that it’s overwhelming and that it feels like too much. You don’t have to justify that.”
Her refusal to rush me through these feelings almost undoes me more than anything else.
“But we can’t just sit with it,” I whisper, the reality pressing in again. “I’m facing Malrik tonight.”
“Which is hours from now,” she counters gently, her gaze unwavering.
“Feel it all right now, Rowan. Feel the loss. Feel the anger. Feel the grief for the version of your life that could have been simple. Feel the weight of what’s ahead.
This is your time to do that, not out there in front of everyone.
But right here, where you and your feelings are safe. ”
Cade brushes against my mind through the bond, warm and steady. Do you need me?
A small smile curves my lips despite the tears. No. I’m just having a moment with my mom.
I’ll leave you to it then.
“Is Cade interrupting our girl time?” Mom teases lightly, a knowing spark in her eyes. “Men. Always so worried.”
“It’s okay,” I say, swiping at my cheeks with the heel of my hand. The tears are slowing now, not because I’ve pushed them away, but because I’ve let them move through me. “I don’t think I need to be angry.”
Her expression shifts, pride blooming there in a way that makes something steady inside my chest.
“I didn’t think you did,” she says softly. “But you needed to be certain of that on your own.”
She leans forward and pulls me into a tight embrace, the kind that presses out the air in my lungs but somehow lets me breathe easier at the same time.
“I’m sorry for how things have worked out,” she murmurs against my hair.
“For everything that’s been put on you simply because I fell in love with a wolf shifter.
None of this was the life I imagined for you, Ro.
But I’m so incredibly proud of you. Whatever you face, you’re going to meet it with strength and honor.
It may be unfair to have this responsibility thrust at you, but you can do this. ”
I nod against her shoulder, holding her just as tightly. “I know. And thank you for this. I didn’t realize how badly I needed a minute of normalcy until I had it. Even lunch earlier… It was perfect.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” she replies as she pulls back, cupping my face briefly before dropping her hands. “You’ll always be my baby girl. I’ll always find ways to take care of you, even if they look a little different these days.”
I reach for the mugs this time, handing hers back to her before lifting mine. “Not too different, though.”
“More importantly,” she says, clicking her mug gently against mine, “you’re not alone.”
The bedroom door opens at that exact moment, as if summoned by the sentiment.
“Damn right she isn’t.”
Liz steps inside with Archie draped dramatically across her shoulders like a fur stole with opinions.
I toss him a narrow look. “You’ve moved on easily.”
“I wasn’t sure if our queen would have time for me,” he replies in mock offense, though there’s a glint in his eyes that softens the jab. It’s a joke, obviously, but the word queen still lands oddly in my chest.
The sting of knowing I haven’t had a lot of time for him fades a little when he hops down from Liz and springs onto the bed, circling twice before settling directly in my lap.
“Are we crying happy tears or sad ones?” he asks, rolling onto his back and exposing his stomach in an invitation I don’t hesitate to accept. “I’m prepared to cheer dramatically either way.”
“Only happy,” I answer, glancing at Mom as I scratch beneath his chin. “I have my family. There’s no reason to be sad.”
Liz snorts. “Yeah, we don’t get to be sad about RikRot. We get to be murderous instead.”
“Or something like that,” Mom adds lightly, winking in a way that reminds me she hasn’t lost a single ounce of her edge.
There’s a quiet knock on the door next, and I sense my dad on the other side. Not only from the pack connection now, but the familial one as well that grows stronger by the day.
“Come on in,” I call out.
He steps inside slowly, looking almost hesitant until he notices that Liz and Archie have already thoroughly dismantled the sanctity of what was our mother-daughter moment.
“I was just coming by to check on things,” he says, his gaze flicking first to Mom and then settling on me. His newly golden eyes soften in a way that still catches me off guard. “You doing okay, baby girl?”
I nod automatically. “Never better.”
“Liar,” he rumbles with a low growl that carries far more affection than reprimand as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed. “But that’s okay. I love you, and I know you’ll be fine.” He wraps an arm around Mom, drawing her gently into his side. “We’ll be there to make sure of it.”
“Mom’s not coming,” I say immediately, the words leaving my mouth before I can temper them. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Ro, did you really think—”
I cut her off before she can finish. “No, I didn’t think. I know.” My stare hardens, not out of disrespect, but pure instinct. “Malrik took you once. You’re not going anywhere near him again. End of story.”
The room stills slightly at the edge in my voice.
What good is all this power if I can’t keep my own family safe? If I can strip magic from the bones of supernatural beings but fail to protect the woman who gave me life…what’s the point?
I won’t let that bastard near her again. I can’t.
“Maybe I’ll just—”
“No, Mom,” I interrupt again, softer but no less firm. “I mean it.” I lift my gaze to Dad. “You agree, don’t you?”