CHAPTER FOUR || DANIEL
Ifollowed Reed and Harris across the commune toward Reed’s cabin, the morning air seeping through my flannel, trying to keep myself breathing normally even though I felt like I was half an inch from hyperventilating.
A dining utensil had just almost killed me. A fork. And if Lee hadn’t pulled me out of the way, I’d be dead. Killed at a pack breakfast by a piece of cutlery. It was so ridiculous it was almost funny. It would’ve been if I weren’t so terrified of what was coming next.
Because it was my fault. I didn’t want to think it, but my brain refused to let me not see what had happened.
It had to be because of me. Oliver hadn’t thrown the fork himself.
First, why would he do that? There was no good reason.
We got along fine. And in front of the entire pack?
No way. Second, even if he had thrown it at full strength, he still wouldn’t have been able to throw it that hard.
He was strong, but not that strong. Third, he’d looked way too freaked.
He hadn’t been faking it. Last, Reed had given him an alpha command.
He couldn’t have lied, even if he’d wanted to.
Which meant that, if the mundane explanation was ruled out, it must’ve been magic. And that couldn’t be a coincidence.
It was connected to my initiation.
The same way I was becoming a little bit more wolflike, the rest of the pack was… what? Becoming more magical somehow? If so, my magic was obviously manifesting in unpredictable and dangerous ways.
Terrific.
I’d caused another disaster. Because that was what I did. I destroyed things, especially the ones closest to me. I was a one-man hurricane, leaving a trail of wreckage in my wake.
And now Harris and Reed knew that, too.
My stomach flipped and my breath caught before I could stop it. My eyes started burning, my vision turning glassy. Because they were probably going to kick me out of the pack, once they understood what was happening. And that was probably even the right call.
I rubbed my eyes furiously—I refused to cry in front of Harris and Reed. Then, when I felt a strange flicker of awareness in the back of my mind, I glanced over my shoulder. And then I almost tripped over my own two feet.
The twins were following us. Anyone else might not have been able to tell them apart at a glance, but I’d always been able to, without even trying.
Lee was only a few steps behind me. His jaw was tight. His hands, which were usually still and deliberate, were clenched at his sides. He didn’t look angry, though. He looked shaken.
Hunter was a few steps behind him, his shoulders squared and his expression set in a hard line, his green gaze locked forward with an intensity that practically dared someone to tell him he wasn’t welcome.
What the hell were they doing?
Reed noticed them at the same time I did. He stopped walking and turned to face the twins. “This is a private conversation.”
“We’re coming,” Lee said flatly. “Daniel isn’t leaving my sight.”
“Our sight,” Hunter corrected. But he cast his twin a sidelong, searching look that Lee ignored.
Huh? Why? What the hell did they think they were doing?
Reed’s brows knitted together as he studied them. His gaze flicked to Lee, then back to Hunter. Then, maybe deciding that, yes, they really were serious and quite possibly insane—or maybe that was a me-exclusive thought—his lips curved down into a thoughtful frown. He glanced at Harris.
His mate gave him a small shrug that seemed to say: your call.
“Hm.” Reed raised his eyebrows meaningfully at me. “You okay with that?”
Surprise rippled through me at his question. Maybe this whole thing couldn’t be that bad if he still wanted my input?
I glanced over at the twins. Hunter glared back at me, as if daring me to say no. Lee’s face was pale and pinched with anxiety, his green eyes raking over me, as if to reassure himself that I was still here, still in one piece.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s fine.”
Reed looked at the twins for another long moment. “Very well.”
Then he turned back toward the cabin he shared with Harris.
I followed him, feeling so baffled I almost forgot about the impending doom hanging over my head. They hadn’t voluntarily put themselves in the same room with me in almost two years. And now they were insisting on it? Both of them?
What the hell did that mean?
With Lee and Hunter in step behind me, I had to fight to ignore the relief and comfort pouring through me at their proximity, as if my body had somehow decided that if they were nearby, everything was going to be okay, after all.
It was a lie. And a dangerous one at that.
Harris and Reed’s cabin was warm and lived-in, with mismatched furniture and bookshelves crammed with paperbacks.
Harris’s influence was visible in the newer additions to the decor: a whiteboard hung on one wall, patrol schedules written in color-coded dry-erase marker.
And two copies of the same cozy mystery novel were side by side on the coffee table in front of the couch.
Reed and Harris each grabbed one of the wooden kitchen chairs from the table, carried them over to the living room, and sat down facing me.
The twins took the couch. I stood in the middle of the room, feeling vaguely like I was on trial, not sure whether to sit.
Sitting down seemed a little too relaxed for the disaster that was about to unfold.
“Have a seat,” Reed said, pointing at the couch.
Lee scooched over to make room for me in the middle. Hunter’s expression tightened, but he also moved over. Meaning I’d need to sit between them.
I sat. Between the close proximity to the twins and Harris and Reed, it felt roughly like facing a firing squad.
“First things first,” Reed said. His voice was calmer than I would’ve expected. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I said immediately. “I’m fine, don’t worry. But if Lee hadn’t—” I broke off, my hands suddenly trembling of their own volition. I slid them under my legs. I glanced over at Lee. “Thanks.”
He snorted, the ghost of a smile bowing on his lips. “No problem.”
Harris leaned forward, his hands steepling. He considered me, his dark eyes searching mine. “Daniel, do you understand what’s happening?”
“I—”
Maybe I could lie to them? If I did it convincingly enough, I could protect myself.
If I told them what I suspected—that the pack was manifesting dangerous bursts of magic because of me—they’d kick me out for sure.
But if I didn’t tell them, it would take them that much longer to figure it out, and I might be putting people I cared about—my pack—in terrible danger.
I dropped my gaze to the floor—because I didn’t want to see their reactions—and sucked in a deep breath. “It’s me. I’m the one causing this.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Hunter shooting me a startled look. But he remained quiet.
“Daniel,” Reed said. “Why do you think that?”
“Because it’s the only explanation that makes any sense.” I swallowed, feeling miserable, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. “Reed, I don’t understand what’s happening. The initiation shouldn’t have done this. But it did.”
The tips of my ears grew warm and I wanted to look away, but I didn’t dare.
“You seem very sure.”
“I’m noticing changes,” I admitted. “My senses are sharper now. I can see better in the dark. I can hear things I couldn’t before. It’s—I’m becoming more wolflike or something.”
“Are you sure?”
“I heard Sally’s heart beating yesterday, from across the room.”
Harris and Reed exchanged a troubled look.
“There’s no precedent for a non-wolf joining a pack through the ceremony, so we don’t have anything to compare it to,” Reed said slowly. “But the night of your initiation, I felt something strange. It felt magical.”
“Because it was,” I said miserably. “Somehow, we’re all sharing power.”
“Hold on. You’re saying this is your magic,” Harris put in. “That the members of the pack are somehow channeling your abilities? That Oliver somehow”—his brows drew together and he hesitated—“telekinetically threw that fork across the room because he was accessing your powers?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I replied, bracing myself for impact.
But I forced myself to speak my next words clearly, fighting against the impulse to shrink down to nothing.
“Based on what’s happening with my senses and with Oliver, what I think is that the initiation forged a magical connection between me and the rest of the pack.
If my magic is bleeding through that connection…
” I hated how small my voice sounded. I took another deep breath.
“I’d need to research it. I’m sorry. I should have anticipated that this would happen. I should’ve known—”
“Daniel.” Reed’s calm voice cut through my spiral.
I looked up. The alpha was watching me with an expression that was, surprisingly, not angry or accusatory.
Instead, he seemed almost concerned. “You’re not in any trouble.
No one could’ve predicted this. We’re just trying to understand what’s happening and how to keep everyone safe. ”
It could’ve been my imagination, but beside me, Hunter and Lee both relaxed fractionally at his words.
Reed’s lips pursed as he considered me. “You look like you haven’t slept in days. Is it just the sharpened senses, or is there more going on?”
I blinked. Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that wasn’t it. “I’m fine.”
“If you weren’t, I hope you’d tell us,” Reed said. “But for right now, I need you to hear this: no one is blaming you. We asked you to join the pack. If whatever is happening is a result of that, we’re going to deal with this together, as a unit.”
“What?” I blurted, before I could stop myself. “You’re not—you’re not kicking me out?”
“For what?” Harris demanded, his eyes widening with surprise. “You didn’t choose for this to happen. Why would we kick you out?”
The relief hit me so hard I nearly choked on it. They were both telling me I still belonged.