Chapter 30 Jabari
JABARI
One month later
We ate together because Malachi told us to sit the hell down and eat, and because no one in Pack Meridian argued with him when his voice carried that quiet edge that meant decisions had already been made. His calm never felt gentle. It felt final.
The table was set long before we reached it, and that told me more than words ever could.
Kairo had done it, because he always did when things got tight, when the pack needed something steady that did not involve fists or weapons or blood.
Plates were laid without waiting for instruction, glasses filled without ceremony, and the food handled with the quiet competence of a man who understood that nourishment could anchor a room faster than reassurance.
The roast still steamed when we sat, garlic and spice pressing into my lungs until my body remembered it was allowed to breathe.
I took my usual seat with my back to the wall and a clear line to the doors, because survival did not stop being necessary just because our lives were finally quiet.
Habit was not paranoia. Habit was the reason men like me lasted long enough to build something worth keeping.
Nyx sat between Elijah and Kairo, and she chose the seat herself. No one pulled the chair out for her, and no one guided her hand. She slid into place calm and steady, the scrape of chair legs against the floor cutting through the low murmur.
My alpha did not react, and that was the first surprise of the night.
No heat flared behind my ribs, and no territorial spike made my teeth itch when she leaned a fraction toward Elijah to catch what he murmured.
The feral edge that used to live in my bones stayed quiet, settled deep in my chest where the bond anchored it.
Nothing surged and nothing snapped, but nothing in me felt dulled either. The bond sat heavy and warm beneath my skin, steady instead of demanding. It was not driving me. It was reminding me that control could be real, and not just a leash clenched in my fist.
I picked up my fork and watched my hand closely as I cut into the meat. My grip stayed firm and precise, no tremor and no twitch, and I took a bite slow enough to taste it. The seasoning hit sharp and familiar, and for the first time in my life I ate.
Across from me, Malachi ate without looking at anyone in particular, his presence filling the room regardless. He did not need to scan for threats the way the rest of us did. Meridian bent around him automatically, and the world behaved itself when he was in it.
Elijah sat straight-backed with his shoulders relaxed, his attention divided between the table and whatever invisible systems he lived inside.
Kairo kept food moving, refilling water, nudging plates closer, making sure Nyx’s portion stayed warm.
Nyx took full bites and chewed thoughtfully, her gaze lifting occasionally to track movement in the room without tension tightening her shoulders, alert without being afraid.
That mattered, because fear made people sloppy. Fear made them hesitate and second-guess their own instincts, and Nyx was not sloppy anymore. She was learning how to be safe without pretending she was weak, and something in my chest eased every time she chose that.
Kairo shifted and his knee brushed hers. Heat flashed across his face before he smoothed it away and put that easy grin back on, but I saw the devotion underneath it. Nyx did not flinch from him, and she did not lean away either. She let him exist close.
The house was quiet tonight, and for once it was quiet in the good way.
No alarms. No tension humming in the walls.
Just the steady rhythm of a home that had decided to keep standing.
The kind of quiet that scared men because it meant there was something worth losing, and I had spent most of my life living like I had nothing to protect.
Nyx caught me watching her.
She didn’t look up right away. Just kept cutting into the roasted chicken on her plate, calm and unbothered like she hadn’t felt my attention on her for the last five minutes.
The overhead lights warmed the dark curls at the nape of her neck, and the quiet scrape of silverware against ceramic carried softly through the dining room.
Then her gaze lifted.
Our eyes met.
Her mouth curved—small and knowing.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
I didn’t bother pretending confusion. I set my fork down slow beside my plate, the metal clicking lightly against the china.
“What?” I asked.
“Starin’ like that.”
My smile came easy.
Slow.
The kind that’s polite as Sunday and dangerous as sin.
“Can’t help it, darlin’,” I said. “You’re distractin’.”
Across the long dining table, the rest of Meridian kept eating like this was the most normal thing in the world. Plates clinked. A glass shifted against wood. The smell of garlic and roasted vegetables still hung warm in the air.
Nyx leaned back slightly in her chair, folding her arms as she studied me like I was a problem she might enjoy solving.
“What am I supposed to call that?” she asked, her eyes bright with amusement that still carried a hint of bite.
I leaned back too, letting my chair rock onto its rear legs for half a second before settling again. My gaze drifted over her slowly, not hiding a damn thing about what I was thinking.
“Call it appreciation,” I said easily. “Or call it me admirin’ what’s mine.”
Kairo let out a low laugh down the table, the sound rough with amusement.
Elijah’s gaze flicked up briefly from his plate, sharp and measuring like it always was, before he returned to whatever quiet calculations lived behind those pale eyes.
Malachi didn’t look up at all.
But I felt the shift in his attention anyway.
That man heard everything whether he wanted to or not.
Nyx’s cheeks warmed under my gaze, a soft flush rising across her brown skin.
That little change in color did dangerous things to my self-control.
The bond didn’t dull that kind of hunger.
If anything, it sharpened it.
Because now I could feel the way her attention brushed back against mine, curious and warm and just a little wicked.
Nyx reached for her glass, taking a slow sip while her eyes stayed on me over the rim.
The challenge in that look was familiar now.
Comfortable.
Home.
Malachi finally set his fork down.
The sound wasn’t loud, but it carried.
He wiped his mouth with a folded napkin, movements neat and unhurried before his gaze lifted toward the rest of us.
“We have work tomorrow,” he said.
Kairo’s brows lifted. “We always have work tomorrow.”
Malachi’s gaze cut to him. “Then you should be grateful I am letting you eat first.”
Kairo held up both hands, grinning. “Yes, sir.”
Elijah’s mouth twitched, barely there. “Schedules are already adjusted.”
Nyx looked between them. “Adjusted for what?”
“For living,” Malachi said, and his voice went quiet in that way that made the room obey him without realizing. “For rebuilding. For making sure we never have to claw our way back to peace again.”
Nyx nodded and the room loosened another notch. Not because the world was suddenly kind, but because our world was ours.
After dinner, the house shifted into its slower rhythm. Lights dimmed. Footsteps softened. The pack did not scatter. We moved like a unit that had chosen each other on purpose, and that choice was the reason the quiet held.
Nyx lingered in the doorway of the training room when we passed it, her gaze dragging slowly across the mats, the weight racks, the gear lining the far wall.
The room was quiet tonight. No shouting, no bodies slamming into the floor, no adrenaline hanging thick in the air. Just the low hum of the lights and the faint smell of rubber and metal that had soaked into the place over years of sweat and hard landings.
Without the chaos of preparation, the room looked different.
Almost peaceful.
Nyx’s eyes followed the length of the mat like she was imagining the bodies that usually filled it.
“You want in?” I asked.
She glanced at me over her shoulder.
“I want to know I can handle myself.”
The words were steady, but I heard the deeper thing beneath them. Not doubt.
Determination.
“You already can,” I said, and I meant it. “But learnin’ how to move with us is different.”
Kairo had already drifted inside, leaning back against the wall like he belonged there more than the equipment did. His arms crossed over his chest, his smile easy.
“We can keep it light,” he offered. “No pressure. Just movement.”
Elijah lifted his phone without looking up, thumb already tapping.
“Ten minutes,” he said. “Basic drills. No strain.”
Malachi appeared behind Nyx without a sound. Close enough that the air shifted with his presence alone.
He didn’t touch her.
He didn’t have to.
“Only if you want it,” he said.
Nyx swallowed.
Her throat worked once, twice. Then she nodded.
“I want it.”
So we gave it to her.
She stepped onto the mat slowly, testing the surface with the ball of her foot. The padding dipped slightly under her weight.
“Start with stance,” Kairo said.
He demonstrated the movement—feet planted, weight balanced, shoulders loose. A fighter’s posture without the aggression.
Nyx mirrored him.
Her first attempt was cautious. Her body remembered too many situations where movement meant danger instead of control.
But she adjusted quickly.
By the third turn her balance settled. By the fourth she started trusting her footing.
We kept the drills simple.
Footwork.
Turns.
Awareness.
How to move without freezing when your body wanted to panic. How to pivot when someone crowded your space. How to breathe through the instinct to flinch.
Nyx moved carefully at first, then faster as confidence settled into her muscles.
I stepped closer.
Her stance was good.
Not perfect.
“Shift your weight,” I said.
Two fingers touched her shoulder, adjusting the angle just slightly. Light enough to respect the boundary she’d fought so hard to reclaim. Firm enough to guide.