Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
KARL
That hadn’t been one of his better ideas.
Karl didn’t usually blurt. He was trained, deliberate, and always careful.
But he’d looked at Ruth—really looked—while wrestling yet again with why this pack was so desperate to avoid contact with anyone.
And the pieces had slammed into place so hard they’d knocked the sense out of him.
He’d love to blame the pain meds for the way he’d announced his conclusion out loud like that, but he hadn’t taken any.
Once he’d seen it, Ruth’s resemblance to Jesse was unmistakable.
It had been bothering him a while without surfacing, tugging at his subconscious.
Now, it screamed and everything clicked.
The secrecy and isolation, the fear of outsiders only made sense if they believed discovery would destroy them.
Because last time someone found them, it nearly had.
Dave and Christian had found no remains at the old camp where the massacre had happened. They’d thought the other local pack had done the decent thing and laid the dead to rest.
But there was another explanation. One standing right in front of him.
“Jesse,” he said. “He’s an Argent and part of our pack.
He remembers…” he hesitated, adjusting what he was about to say.
“Something terrible happened to his pack when he was a pup, and when he remembered more about it, we tracked them down to New Mexico. There was no trace left, so we thought they were all—that the pack no longer existed.”
He looked straight at Michael. “But it does, doesn’t it?”
The wolves around Michael were poised and ready to attack, held in check only by his will.
“Why did you want to find his pack?” Michael’s voice was low, tight, threaded with a snarl.
Karl didn’t flinch. “Because it’s his pack. He’s only been with us a few months. Before that, he was alone. After—after losing everyone.”
God, why wasn’t Matt here? He’d know how to phrase things so every sentence wasn’t a minefield, threatening to shatter the parlous peace in this room. Karl had none of those skills. He had blunt truth, a bad leg, and a protective mate standing between him and a potential execution squad.
Karl kept his gaze locked on Michael’s, letting him see everything—his exhaustion and pain, the absence of threat, and the weight of truth.
For a long moment, Michael didn’t blink. Then something in his face changed, the hard mask slipping to something more human. Still wary and guarded, but thinking.
Behind him, Ruth made that sound again, smaller this time, but raw.
Hailey murmured her name and gently pulled her aside, easing her down into one of the chairs near the wall.
Ruth sank without protest, one hand pressed over her mouth, the other clutching the edge of the seat like it was the only solid thing in the world.
“You say one of your pack is an Argent,” Michael said, voice like years of rough road. “Jesse.”
“He is,” Karl said, daring to take his eyes from Michael long enough to glance at Ruth. His next words were for her. “He’s safe with us, and he’s found his mate.”
Hope flickered in Ruth’s eyes, fragile and so very painful.
Michael didn’t look away from Karl. “How did he come to you? Does anyone else know he’s an Argent?”
His leg was screaming. If he stayed standing, he’d end up flat on the floor. Better to sit before he made it obvious how weak he still was.
Leon was tense as Karl fumbled his way down onto the bed, as if he wanted to help but was unwilling to take his eyes off Michael and the other shifters even for an instant.
Karl breathed a few times before speaking, not wanting to drag this out but not wanting his voice to crack with just how much relief it was to sit again.
“He had no memory of being a very young pup,” he said at last. “He came to us through a series of accidents, met his mate, and stayed. And yeah, it was a bit of a surprise to find he was an Argent.” He huffed a small laugh at that understatement.
“God, it’ll take hours to explain it all, but everyone knows now.
The National Council, non-shifters—everyone. ”
He caught a gasp from Ruth, swiftly stifled, and pinned her with his gaze. “He’s safe,” he assured her. “The shifter who ordered the—the attack on your pack is behind bars for it. As are those who carried it out. They’ll face shifter justice.”
The silence that followed was easier, somehow, no longer charged with the threat of imminent violence. Leon eased his stance slightly, though Karl could see there was tension still coiled under his skin.
It was Ruth who finally spoke, her voice small but fierce. “He was seven.”
“I know.”
She swallowed convulsively. “He’s my son.”
There was a world of hurt in her voice that Karl couldn’t even begin to imagine.
“He’s safe,” he promised her again, unable to think of anything else that might touch the pain she was carrying.
Had been carrying for years. He could see it now in her face, the economy with which she spoke and moved.
She’d gotten on with life because life had given her no choice, but she’d had nothing to spare for anything that wasn’t essential.
And yet… and yet she’d been kind to him, and God, if that didn’t remind him of Jesse.
All of his kindness and softness hidden under sharp edges, but there nonetheless.
Silence followed, then Ruth stood and walked slowly out of the room, holding herself very carefully as if she might break. Hailey went with her, staying close.
But Michael neither moved nor spoke. He kept Karl pinned with his gaze, still assessing, still untrusting.
Eventually, he said, “I’m going to brief the pack now, but we’ll need to talk more.”
“Of course you will,” Leon said flatly. “You’re wolves.”
Michael returned his look, not quite hostile but definitely not friendly. “How does that even happen?” he asked. “A cat and a wolf. Mates.”
Karl stilled. Leon’s original, outlandish claim had been a lie, and Michael wouldn’t take it well if he ever found out. They’d need to tread carefully. “You mean, logistically? Or—”
“I mean at all,” Michael said. “I’ve never seen it. Never even heard of it.”
Leon tucked his hair behind his ear, so often a bad sign. “Isolation does tend to limit one’s perspective,” he said, deceptively mild.
Karl winced. There they were, the claws beneath the pretty packaging.
“We haven’t killed one another yet,” he said, shooting Leon a warning look, “so somehow, it works.”
Michael gave a low grunt that might have been a laugh. “All right. I have to brief my pack before the rumors run wild, but we’ll need to talk more soon.”
He finally turned and left, the other wolves filing out behind him.
Leon waited until the door clicked shut, then let out a long, quiet breath. He pulled the covers back for Karl to lie down, pulled them up over him and thumped one of his pillows into shape with unnecessary force.
“So that was fun.” If he’d been in cat form, Leon’s tail would have been lashing. “Next time you decide to upend our entire exit strategy, a little warning would be nice.”
“Sorry.” Karl was genuinely ashamed of his lapse in judgment.
Leon let out a sharp, exasperated sigh. “You know, I kept wishing you’d get something wrong. That just once, you’d leap before you look, the way I always do.” He shook his head, still annoyed. “I didn’t think you’d choose something that spectacular and almost get us killed.”
Karl reached up and caught his hand. “Sorry,” he said again, more quietly.
The irritation seemed to drain from Leon. He let himself be pulled down to sit beside him.
“Maybe try not to insult our hosts again until we’re off their territory?” Karl added.
Leon rolled his eyes. “They deserved it. You know they did.”
One of the many things Karl was coming to know about Leon was how badly he needed to have the last word. So he simply smiled at him, and closed his eyes. Best way yet he’d found to rile him.
“You better not be sleeping,” Leon warned. “I’ve got a whole lecture prepped.”
Karl answered with a snore.
“Unbelievable,” Leon muttered.
LEON
By the time Michael came back, Karl was still in bed, but upright and alert once more.
He’d had a visitor already. Ruth had come in, quiet and alone, full of urgent questions about Jesse.
Leon had taken the hint and stepped outside, giving them the room.
Karl hadn’t said much afterwards, but when Ruth emerged, she looked changed.
Still tamped down, somehow, like she didn’t dare believe it until Jesse stood in front of her, but something in her was immeasurably softer.
He hadn’t realized how much grief had been in her face until it was gone.
Now, it was Michael again. Hailey was with him, her hair loose, eyes alert.
Karl was still pale but looked more like himself. The change had come fast these past few hours, like his body had finally remembered how to heal.
Leon kept mostly quiet. This was wolf business, and in the way of wolves, they had to talk it all to death.
He listened while Karl explained why they’d gone public about Jesse’s existence, the fact the National Council of Shifters had welcomed him, and that the shifter who’d ordered the massacre was in shifter custody.
That meant no plea deals, no human trials, no wriggling out of paying for what they’d done.
Leon saw the shift in Michael and Hailey. It wasn’t peace, but something seemed to ease at the knowledge that what had been done to their pack hadn’t been forgotten or forgiven.
In turn, Michael told them the only reason there’d been survivors besides Jesse was because half the pack had been out hunting that night.
His words were clipped, his eyes still haunted by what they’d found when they returned to their camp.
They’d buried their dead as swiftly as they could and left, taking only what they could carry, not knowing if the people who’d done it might return.