Chapter 26
ROWAN
Seconds turn to minutes, stretching just enough for my body to remember what it feels like to breathe without panic clawing at my lungs.
The quiet in our room isn’t peaceful so much as it is…
temporary. A pause between storms. My muscles have stopped vibrating, my mind has slowed from a sprint to something more manageable, but the tension hasn’t left. It’s coiled and waiting.
And before those minutes can blur into something longer—something dangerous like hesitation—it’s time to move.
While Cade and I have been tucked away, stealing what little rest we can, the rest of the world hasn’t stopped. Not even close.
As Cade takes a call from another alpha, the door flies open without a knock, because why not at this point?
Iris storms in like a one-woman cavalry, dressed head to toe in black with fitted leather pants that look far too practical for her usual chaos and a loose blouse that somehow still manages to look intentional.
Her hair is as spiked and wild as ever, like she styled it with pure spite and a little bit of magic.
But it’s not her outfit that catches my attention.
It’s what she’s holding.
“Good evening, sugar plum.”
Something flies at my face before I can reply, and I barely catch it on instinct. The weight settles in my hands, and I glance down.
The fanny pack.
“Your arsenal,” she declares, like she’s just handed me a weapon forged by the gods themselves.
“I’ve told you before—”
Her gaze snaps to mine, sharp and unyielding, but there’s something else there this time. Something deeper and quieter. It cuts through my protest before I can even finish it.
“What if you need us and we can’t get to you?” she asks, voice steady in a way that feels far more serious than anything else she’s said all day. “At least you’ll have something.”
The words land more heavily than they should.
For a second, I can’t find anything else to say back. So, I don’t argue.
I nod, swallowing around the sudden tightness in my throat, and secure the pack around my waist without another word. The buckle clicks into place, solid and real, and something about that simple action steadies me more than I expect it to.
Once it’s on, I step forward and wrap my arms around her, mindful of the second item she’s brought with her. “Thank you.”
She stiffens just long enough for me to notice before she pats my back like she’s trying to play it off as nothing.
“And I brought this just in case.” She holds up the cooking device. “Cast iron. Nothing stronger.”
A small huff of laughter escapes me despite everything. “I think the fanny pack will be sufficient.”
She glares like she’s deeply offended by my lack of appreciation for cookware-based combat. “Your loss. Maybe literally. We could use this downstairs anyway.” Then her gaze sharpens again, scanning between the two of us. “Dinner’s almost done. You about ready?”
I glance over my shoulder.
Cade still stands near the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and controlled as he speaks with one of the other alphas.
Even from here, I can feel the shift in him—the quiet authority, the weight of responsibility settling back into place like it never left.
There’s no hesitation in him now. No doubt.
Just purpose.
“I think so,” I say, turning back to her. “He should be about done.”
“Good,” Iris replies briskly. “Because the pack is waiting on their leaders.”
My eyes widen so fast it almost hurts. “The whole pack? I thought we were having a small dinner with family.”
“Buttered bunions, no.” She clicks her tongue, like I’m the one being unreasonable. “You had your time to build up strength with Cade. Now it’s time for you to do that with the wolf pack.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it just as quickly. Because she’s not wrong.
This isn’t just about us anymore.
It hasn’t been for a while.
Cade ends his call and crosses the room, slipping the phone into his pocket as he joins us. “Thank you, Iris. I should have thought of that myself.”
Color me shocked by that compliment…
“Well, I was going to point that out, but now that you have—”
I clap a hand over her mouth before she can spiral into whatever crazy is rattling around in her head. “How about we just accept the ‘thank you’ and head downstairs?”
Her eyes narrow at me, but after a second, she nods against my hand. “Of course, sugar plum.”
She might only be agreeing this easily because there’s a chance I won’t be here tomorrow, but I don’t let myself linger on that long.
Instead, I take Cade’s hand, grounding myself in the warmth of him while Iris leads the way.
The pack house feels different as we move through it, quieter even. The lights glow softer, shadows stretching along the walls as the sun dips lower outside. Then the back doors open, and my breath catches.
The yard has been transformed. Rows of long tables stretch across the open space, filled with food that steams in the cooling air—rich scents of roasting meat, fresh bread, herbs, and something sweet drifting through the breeze.
Lanterns hang from posts and branches, their warm light flickering as the last rays of sunlight spill across the clearing.
Shifters fill the space. Dozens and dozens of them.
Young and old. Familiar faces and ones I’ve barely met. Some laugh, some talk in low voices, others simply sit, watching and waiting. But there’s no chaos here. Not even fear.
Just support.
The sun hovers at the edge of the horizon, casting everything in gold, the light catching on hair, skin, and eyes, turning the entire pack into something almost ethereal.
For a moment, I just stand there, taking it in.
And despite everything waiting for us…despite where we’re about to go…
Warmth spreads through my chest.
Not from power. Not from dread.
But from something far more dangerous.
Belonging.
Elias approaches us with Bram right behind him, the shift in their expressions is enough to pull me out of the warmth of the moment and back into reality.
“Looks like we’re going back to The Keep.”
The beta’s words settle over me like a shadow, dimming the golden glow of the evening just a fraction. Not enough to steal it, but enough to remind me what’s waiting on the other side of this.
I tilt my head, trying to work through it anyway, because apparently my brain enjoys suffering. “Those were the coordinates? Why wouldn’t he—” I stop myself with a small shake of my head. “Never mind.”
There’s no trying to make sense of Malrik’s thought process. Not when every decision he makes feels like it’s been crafted for impact, not logic.
“Can’t say I’m surprised by that,” Cade replies, his fingers tightening around mine in a quiet, grounding squeeze. “When will the portals be open?”
“We still have an hour,” Bram answers, barely glancing up from his phone as his thumbs move in quick, efficient motions. “I’m working with Riverstone and Thornwell to make sure they’re ready. Taren is handling the coordination with Glacier Crest and the witches to prepare for the rest of us.”
There’s a rhythm to it—his voice, the movement of his hands, the low hum of conversation around us—that once again reminds me of just how real this all is and that it’s bigger than just me.
Elias nods in confirmation, his gaze sweeping the yard like he’s already calculating exits, threats, and contingencies. “Thane also confirmed that there’s a new shield up around The Keep. This one is visible and not only keeps people out, but prevents them from seeing in.”
Of course there is.
Because Malrik isn’t just building a stage. He’s controlling the curtain, the lighting, and the audience.
“How does Malrik expect me to show up then?” I ask, the irritation slipping into my voice before I can stop it. “If he’s locked everything down that tight?”
Elias lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. “I can only assume he’ll drop the shield once he’s ready.”
“And not a moment before,” I mutter under my breath, my jaw tightening as the pieces continue to fall into place.
He wants control.
He wants timing.
He wants us to walk in exactly when—and how—he’s decided.
A slow, simmering heat builds in my chest, curling sharp and restless.
Apparently, I’ve arrived at the rage part of this whole ordeal.
Before I can lean into it—before I can let it sharpen into something ominous—something small and solid slams into my legs.
“Hi, Luna!”
It comes out more like woo-na, soft and bright and entirely too pure for everything swirling around us.
I blink down, startled, and find a little girl wrapped around my knees like she’s known me her entire life.
Her cheeks are flushed pink from running, blonde curls bouncing wildly around her face, and her dress is dotted with grass stains and dirt like she’s been tumbling through the yard without a care in the world.
But her eyes—those golden, wolf-bright eyes—shine up at me like I’m something worth running toward.
“Well, hello, little one,” I say, my voice softening.
“I’m so sorry,” a woman calls out, rushing toward us with a mix of exhaustion and panic written across her face.
Her hair is pulled back hastily, strands slipping free, and there’s a tightness in her expression that tells me she hasn’t truly rested in days.
Maybe even years. “I told her to leave you two alone.”
I shake my head before she can reach us, placing a gentle hand against the girl’s back, feeling the steady warmth of her through the thin fabric. “It’s okay. I’m always willing to take hugs.”
The girl squeezes tighter, her little arms holding onto me with surprising strength.
Not human strength. Pack strength.
For a second, I just stand there, letting myself feel it.
The trust. The expectation. The weight of it all.
“Byeeee,” she chirps suddenly, like she didn’t just anchor herself to me for a moment I didn’t know I needed.
I laugh softly as she releases my legs and darts away, her small form weaving easily through the tables and people like this is her playground.
My gaze lifts to her mother, who slows a few feet away, uncertainty flickering across her features.
And something inside me—something new and steadier—nudges forward.
I don’t know how I do it, as I’ve only spoken with Cade like this so far, but somehow, I manage to connect just to the woman’s thoughts.
You’re doing great, and your daughter is precious.
The thought slips from me before I can second-guess it, threading gently outward.
The woman freezes, then her head snaps up, eyes locking onto mine as something like awe and relief crash over her all at once. Her light brunette hair swings with the motion, catching the last golden glow of the evening.
“Thank you, Luna,” she says, her voice softer now, steadier in a way it hadn’t been before.
The word lands differently this time. Not like a title or like something being placed on me.
But something more akin to being accepted.
Before I can sit with that too long, I’m once again pulled in another direction as Iris tugs on my arm like a storm rolling back in.
“Come on now,” she says briskly, already ushering us forward with a wave of her hand. “We need to get you seated.”
I let her guide us forward, but not before I take one more look over the yard—the tables filled with laughter and quiet conversations, the lantern light flickering against faces I may not know well, but already care deeply for.
This is a pack that no longer feels like something I’m standing outside of, but something I’ve become a part of.
My gaze lingers for just a second longer, long enough to let it settle deep in my chest, steady and certain. This—these people, this place, this fragile, hard-won sense of belonging—is what we’re walking into the unknown to protect.
And for the first time since all of this began, I’m not moving because I feel as though I have no other choice.
I’m doing so because I choose to.