Chapter 33 – BODHI
BODHI
Black River hasn’t changed since I left. The same cracked asphalt leads into town, and the same faded welcome sign listing a population that’s been wrong since my father moved into town and ran off anyone who didn’t want to be part of his crew.
But everything else feels different, especially approaching with the knowledge that he’s not here and won’t be back anytime soon. Hopefully never.
I park the borrowed truck at the edge of clan territory and kill the engine, but don’t move to get out.
Through the dusty windshield, I see the sprawling compound has grown, but not much, and what was here looks jaded and run-down now.
What used to be a thriving main street is pretty much abandoned.
Only the bar, a grocery store, and a few essentials remain open, and even then, only to service the needs of the clan.
It looks neglected and unloved, which, much like the clan itself, it has been for the last twenty-odd years.
Very few outsiders come here. And if they do, they move on quickly. Strangers are not welcome.
My hands grip the steering wheel hard enough to make the plastic creak as my bear assaults me with memories. Dark ones. The kind I spent years burying deep down, trying to forget.
Being taunted by my father, who wanted to make sure I knew he was the boss. His threats against me, my brothers, even our mother, if I didn’t promise to join his crew and help him with his next get rich quick scheme, which became increasingly criminal in nature as the years went on.
With a growl, I rub my eyes and try to force them open. I came to support Mitch, nothing more. I’ll stand behind him if Garrett makes his challenge, and put on a show of unified strength, then disappear again. Simple.
Except Beau’s voice keeps pushing forward. Go to Black River. Deal with who you actually are.
And Emma’s, which sting more than I could have ever imagined for a bear with thick skin who’s used to being shunned.
If you’re going to be another source of chaos in my life, then just go away.
I sit frozen, caught between the urge to drive away, to run to Emma, and the pull of responsibility and family connection that I’ve been avoiding for years.
Movement in my peripheral vision makes me turn.
Mason emerges from behind the old garage, stopping short when he spots the truck and catches a trace of my scent in the air.
Even from this distance, I can see his eyes widen in surprise.
He raises a hand, more greeting than summons, then jerks his head toward the bar, which serves as the clan headquarters.
No backing out now.
The familiar scent of home hits me as soon as I climb from the truck and step outside. Pine and earth, motor oil from the garage, stale beer and sawdust. It should be comforting and nostalgic. Instead, it makes my muscles tense, and the teenage boy who still lives inside me wants to shift and run.
Mason waits as I approach, and when I get close enough, he pulls me into a brief, back-slapping hug. “Jesus, have you gotten even bigger?”
Another Lennox bear who’s working for Chase, I see him regularly at the training grounds or on the mountain, but never here.
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but it’s about time you came back,” he says against my shoulder before stepping back. His eyes scan my face, taking in the wildness that still clings to me, and his smile vanishes. “You look like shit. Was telling Ben that bad?”
“Worse.”
He knows about Emma but wisely opts not to broach it directly, leaving the door open for me to talk about it if I want to. I don’t.
My voice comes out rough. “Where’s Mitch?”
Mason frowns but knows better than to expect small talk and banter from me. I’m not in the mood for hanging around. I’ll do what I came to do and then be on my way, guilt assuaged and conscience clear.
“Bar. Fair warning, half the clan’s already gathered.”
As he leads the way, I scan the area, noting changes as we walk.
New construction on the east side, fresh paint on several buildings, and a training field that wasn’t there before.
Signs of growth, of life moving forward without our father’s negative influence.
All Mitch. He’s done a good job. Anyone who’s saying otherwise is doing so for their own selfish reasons.
Clan members emerge from doorways as we pass, some nodding acknowledgment, others just staring.
I recognize most of the faces, even if I can’t recall all their names.
They keep their distance, unsure of my mood and my intentions, used to hearing my father’s warnings that I was too big and dangerous to be trusted.
He’d goad me into a reaction, then call me aggressive and feral to justify pushing me out.
And nobody was strong enough to stop him.
The bar sits at the centre, a rustic log structure that’s been expanded over generations, with guesthouses being added upstairs and meeting rooms at the back.
Voices drift through open windows, too many to count.
The rumble of conversation stops as Mason and I climb the front steps and push through the old saloon-style doors.
You could hear a pin drop as they realise who’s come to join the party.
Mitch greets us in the doorway, the touch of grey hair at his temples hinting at the stress he’s under. He studies me for a long moment, then steps aside with a brusque nod.
“Come on in,” he says simply. “We’ve been waiting for everyone else to get here.”
The great room is packed. Marcus is leaning against the fireplace, arms folded across his chest, but his expression is unreadable. Eyes dark and intense as always. Maddox perches on a windowsill, watching every movement. Filling the rest of the space are at least thirty clan members.
All eyes turn to me as I find a seat, both the weight of their attention and the absolute silence suffocating.
“Bodhi.” An older woman, Iris, pushes forward from the crowd. “It’s so good to see you back home.”
The room holds its breath, everyone waiting to see whether I confirm I am, in fact, home for good.
“I’m here to support your Alpha,” I say carefully. “Nothing more. But it’s good to see you again too.”
Disappointment flashes across several faces while others look relieved. Garrett, standing with a cluster of the old guard near the back door, smirks as if I’ve just confirmed something he suspected. And it’s made his day.
“Support?” Iris’s voice sharpens. “I thought you were coming back to teach these insubordinate cubs a lesson?”
She glares at Garrett, clearly not a fan of his, and he smirks back, earning himself the middle finger from the sweet little old lady who looks like she spends her evenings knitting and baking cakes.
“Iris.” Mitch warns, but she waves him off.
“Don’t tell me to be quiet.” She turns back to me, and I see decades of frustration in her weathered face.
“You’re not a scared teenager anymore, Bodhi.
You’re a grown man with responsibilities to this clan, to your bloodline.
It was you who took down the previous alpha, after all. You’ve earned your spot.”
I want to say that I don’t want it, that I don’t want to lead a clan full of cowards who let a grown man banish a teenager just because he felt threatened.
Except deep down, with the benefit of hindsight, I know there was nothing they could’ve done.
Not if they didn’t want to be made an example of.
But right now, I feel like that fifteen-year-old boy being sent to the woods to fend for himself with no home, no family, and no friends to go back to.
Her expression softens as she takes my hand.
“Mitch has done admirably, but he’s not...” She pauses, glancing at Mitch apologetically. “He’s not you. The clan knows it. Hell, even Garrett wouldn’t be dumb enough to dare challenge you.”
Garrett pushes off from the wall, his movement drawing attention. He’s bigger than I remember, bulkier. Prison will do that to a man.
“Maybe we don’t want an alpha who spends his days hiding in the mountains, too scared to step up.”
The insult lands as intended. A growl builds in my chest before I can force it down. These people know me from back then, but they don’t really know what I’ve become, or how strong I actually am. And it makes no sense to show my cards now.
“Enough,” Mitch says, and despite the looming challenge, people listen.
Strong and steady, he’s a worthy clan leader, and as he moves to the centre of the room, calm and confident, he draws their focus back to him.
“The challenge is tomorrow. We’ll settle questions of leadership and what direction the pack will take then.
Tonight, we welcome back a friend and brother. Stay and have a beer or leave.”
It’s not a request. People file out slowly, reluctantly, whispers following them. Garrett is among the last to leave, pausing at the door to look back at me, smug now that he’s confident I’m not here to stake my claim.
When the room clears, eventually leaving only family, much to my relief, I sink into the nearest chair, which creaks under my weight.
“He’s going to fight dirty,” I say to Mitch.
“Obviously.” Mitch pulls a bottle from a cabinet and pours amber liquid into glasses without asking if anyone wants it. “The question is, why do you care? I’ll win. It just won’t be pretty.”
I take the offered glass and stare into its depths. “It should be a fair fight.”
“When has anything around here ever been fair?” he quips. “I don’t need cheerleaders if that’s why you’re here. You don’t have to stay,” Mitch says with a weary sigh.
I see it in Mitch’s face, the exhaustion that goes deeper than physical tiredness, and I finally get it. The sacrifice he’s making for the clan.
Silence stretches through the room. Marcus and Maddox exchange a look, while Mason studies the ceiling like it holds the key to avoiding this conversation.
“You really don’t want it.”
Finally, Mitch sets down his untouched glass and meets my eyes.
“I don’t want it,” he says quietly. “Never have. But you already knew that.”
It’s true, I did know. He told me. But only seeing him here, how his shoulders droop in private when the clan isn’t watching, do I realise the full extent of what my absence means for my brother.
He’s trapped because of what I did.
“Mitch...”
“I’ve been keeping the seat warm,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
“That’s all. Waiting for you to come and take it back.
” He smiles around the top of his beer. “For my sake, yes. But also because this is what you were born to do. Dad knew it. The clan knows it. Your bear knows it. And being back here, I bet you can feel it too.”
“You’re a good Alpha.” I insist. “The clan respects you.”
“I am a good alpha.” Mitch agrees. “But I’m not their true alpha. And everyone knows it.”