Chapter Eighteen
Arrow stood in the parking lot, surrounded by assassins, still breathing hard from the fight. He still couldn’t quite process what he’d just done. His knuckles throbbed, his ribs ached, and his wolf prowled beneath his skin, satisfied and smug.
We protected our mate. We won. To Arrow, that was the most surprising part of all.
He’d always intended to do as well as he could, and Arrow had been determined to fight as hard as he could.
It’d been many years since he’d fought with his brothers growing up, and taking on a bear was a totally different situation, which could’ve had a totally different outcome.
“Can you shift?” Flint’s hands were everywhere, soothing as he cataloged the damage. “Arrow, look at me. Can you shift?”
“Yeah.” Arrow blinked, focusing on Flint’s face. “Yeah, I can shift.”
“Good, because Python will murder you if you bleed on his upholstery.” Flint stepped back, giving him room.
“Demons don’t murder people for getting blood on their car upholstery,” Python called from where he was inspecting his Maserati for damage. “Demons creatively relocate those offenders to dimensions where they experience regret.”
“Is that what we’re calling the Underworld now?” Pax was visible again and nestled under Storm’s arm. “Creative relocation?”
“Call it what you like, pixie.” Python rubbed at a spot of dust on the car’s roof. “The outcome is the same.”
Arrow pulled off what remained of his shirt, kicked off his boots, and pushed his jeans down his thighs. The shift came easily, his wolf eager to heal the damage Patterson had inflicted. Bones restructured, fur sprouted, and within seconds, he stood on four legs, shaking out his pelt.
“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Pax breathed. “Look at him, all silver and black.”
Arrow’s wolf preened under the attention, but when Pax moved closer, a low warning growl rumbled from Arrow’s chest.
Pax froze mid-step. “Um.”
“Back up, Pax.” Flint’s voice was amused. “He’s still riding the adrenaline from defending me. Protective instincts are cranked to eleven right now.”
“I just wanted to pet him. He looks so cute.”
“I promise you can do it, later. When he’s not ready to bite anyone who comes within five feet of me.”
Arrow wanted to protest that he wouldn’t bite Pax, that he had perfect control, but another growl escaped when Storm approached Flint. The crocodile held up both hands, backing away slowly.
“Noted. Flint is off-limits until the wolf calms down.”
“I’m walking to Python’s car now,” Flint said, his tone soothing. “Arrow, you can come with me.”
Arrow followed immediately, keeping between Flint and everyone else. His wolf didn’t trust anyone right now, his instincts on high alert. He used to think he could trust Patterson, but the man had tried to take him away from his mate. The wolf didn’t want anyone else to try.
“That is amazing,” Levi said, watching from a safe distance. “He’s like a furry shield.”
“Fluffy bodyguard,” Calvin agreed.
“Overprotective puppy,” Python corrected, unlocking the Maserati. “Flint, back seat. Arrow, you’re riding in the trunk area.”
“There’s no trunk area in a Maserati,” Flint pointed out.
“Fine, he can get in the back seat. But if he sheds on my leather, I’m charging you for detailing.”
The drive back to the Alley took forty minutes, and Arrow spent every second of it pressed against Flint’s legs, alert for threats.
Storm and Pax followed in Storm’s truck.
Devon and Wren took up the rear in Devon’s sedan.
Levi and Calvin brought up the tail in their massive pickup.
It was like a convoy, but the wolf saw something more - protection, pack… family.
By the time they’d gotten back to the Alley, Arrow could shift back, his cuts and scrapes all healed. Flint dashed to his porch and came back with a set of clothes he grabbed from a box. Jeans and a T-shirt that smelled like Calvin’s laundry detergent.
“We all have handy boxes with clothes like this,” Flint explained, pulling on a fresh shirt of his own. “It’s common sense to leave spare clothes around in case we shift unexpectedly. You’re part of that now.”
Arrow dressed slowly, processing the simple truth behind Flint’s words.
It had been three weeks, and just as Arrow thought he’d gotten a handle on his place among the assassins, something else happened that helped him see that spot was so much more.
Not because of his job title or his last name or what he could do for them, but because he was Flint’s mate and they accepted him.
“Okay, ground rules.” Python gathered everyone in the sawmill before they dispersed. “Nothing gets said to Cyrus about our off-the-books mission today. Understood?”
Arrow opened his mouth, not sure what to say. He’d never been good at lying, and keeping secrets from a handler seemed wrong on multiple levels.
“If he asks me directly, I’m not lying.” Flint crossed his arms. “Cyrus is my handler and my friend. I won’t do that to him.”
“No one’s asking you to lie,” Python said quickly. “Just...don’t volunteer information. Let me handle Cyrus.”
“Famous last words,” Storm muttered.
“I heard that.”
Arrow watched the exchange, still trying to reconcile his old worldview with his new reality.
Patterson had been his supervisor for years.
They’d worked together, shared coffee in the break room, complained about paperwork, and while Patterson had also been overbearing, arrogant, and honestly believed he was right about everything, Arrow had never believed he would be so against Arrow finding his fated mate - the holy grail all shifters hoped to find.
Instead of being happy for him, Patterson had called Flint unsuitable, had tried to drag Arrow away from his mate, and had refused to accept Arrow’s choices as valid.
He had his head so far up his ass regarding shifter hierarchy that Patterson felt his views were more valid than those of the Fates.
Arrow couldn’t believe how he used to think Patterson’s opinion of him had been so important… I’m so damn lucky I’m out of that now.
“Hey.” Flint touched his arm. “You okay?”
“Honestly…I don’t know.” Arrow ran a hand through his hair.
“This is a first for me. I just...I can’t believe he came after me like that…
after us. Like my decision to be with you was somehow wrong, when the Fates themselves deemed us perfect for each other.
How…how arrogant does a person have to be to act like that? ”
“You’ve been known to have a similar arrogance yourself in the past, but you got over it.
” Flint laced their fingers together. “Some people can’t handle it when others stop playing by their rules.
Patterson had you in a box - dutiful employee, ambitious wolf, someone who’d never rock the boat.
When you broke out of that box, it threatened his entire worldview for some reason. ”
“I worked with him for years.”
“And he never really saw you, just the role you played.” Flint squeezed his hand. “But that’s over now. You get to decide who you are, not Patterson or your family or anyone else.”
Arrow pulled Flint close, breathing in his mate’s scent. “How are you so wise?”
“I’m not. I’m just really good at shooting things from far away and growing strawberries.” Flint kissed his jaw. “The wisdom is new, but I’m trying it out.”
“I like it.”
“Good, because there’s more where that came from.”
/~/~/~/~/
That evening, the grill pit hummed with activity.
Levi worked the massive grill like a maestro, flipping steaks and adjusting temperature zones while Calvin prepped sides on the outdoor kitchen counter.
Pax was loitering by the dessert table, sneaking bites of pie when he thought no one was looking.
Clearly, someone had been to the bakery that afternoon. It all smelled and looked delicious.
Arrow sat between Flint and Devon, a beer in hand, trying to absorb the normalcy of it all. The people around him were assassins, killers, people who did lethal things to terrible people for money. Those same people were arguing about whether hot dogs counted as sandwiches.
“It’s meat between bread,” Storm insisted. “That’s a sandwich.”
“But the bread is a bun, so the two parts are connected,” Wren countered. “Surely, a sandwich requires two separate pieces.”
“What about a sub? That’s connected bread.”
“A sub is different.”
“How?”
“It just is!”
Cyrus sat at the head of the picnic table, Python pressed against his side, looking content despite the chaos around him. He caught Arrow’s eye and smiled - a genuine, warm expression that made Arrow’s chest tight.
This was what he’d been missing in the city.
Not the fancy apartment or the impressive job title or the approving nods from supervisors who didn’t actually give a damn about him.
This connection and belonging, people who’d literally shown up to back him in a fight without being asked.
Arrow tried to think if anyone else in his previous life might’ve done that. Jack, maybe?
Cyrus’s phone rang, interrupting Wren’s passionate defense of a simple sandwich. Everyone went quiet as Cyrus pulled it from his pocket, frowning at the screen.
“It’s the agency.” He glanced at Python, who’d gone still. “Upper management.”
“Perhaps you should put it on speaker,” Python suggested quietly.
Cyrus tapped the screen. “This is Cyrus.”
“Cyrus, this is Director Hanson from agency operations.” A crisp female voice filled the sudden silence. “I’m calling to inform you that Supervisor Patterson has withdrawn all complaints regarding your contracted assassin, Flint, and the allegations concerning the ex-agent, Arrow.”
Arrow felt Flint tense beside him.
“The agency has reviewed all available evidence,” Director Hanson continued, “and we are satisfied that Arrow, as a former employee, is entitled to live his life as he chooses. We apologize for any inconvenience Supervisor Patterson’s actions may have caused.”