Chapter 29 - Rory
Rory
“The gathering is cancelled,” my mother said without preamble. “I’ve sent word to all the packs.”
I stood in the doorway of her office, still catching my breath from the trek back to the manor. The familiar smell of old leather and punishment hit me—nothing had changed in here since I was twelve.
“Good,” I managed. “Because—”
“Yes, I know.” She gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite her massive oak desk. “Alexander told me everything.”
Seb and Kit had been clear: Maxwell and I needed to get back to the manor, find Dev, and bring him to the airfield so they could fly him home.
Simple enough, except an hour into our journey back, Tariq had materialised out of thin air—stark naked and looking properly frazzled. Alex had indeed sounded the alarm.
And my mother wanted to talk to me.
When we reached pack lands, I’d had to beg Maxwell to go find out where Dev was, to let me deal with Mum by myself. He’d looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my face must have convinced him.
“Is it true about Callum?” she asked, voice tight.
“Yes.”
I’d never seen her this rattled. Edina Thorne was always composed, always in control. Now she looked genuinely stricken, her face pale beneath her usual stern expression.
“Alex knows where to find his body,” I said quietly.
She turned away to face the window, shoulders visibly shaking. I wondered if she’d have this reaction if she found out I’d died. Kit, maybe. Me? Not so sure.
“So Kit is here?” she asked when she’d turned around again.
“Not here,” I said flatly. “He’s waiting underground for nightfall, then they’re marching them all to the airfield for interrogation. All the people involved in the operation, I mean. Tomorrow, we’ll fly all the wolves back to London, then help them get home.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell that I was flying in that jet.
Besides, Maxwell would need company in his mum’s car.
Before that, though, I had the strangest full moon of my life ahead of me.
The late afternoon sun was already casting longer shadows, and I could feel the faintest tug itching at my skin—the moon’s pull beginning its ancient dance.
I couldn’t wait. Kit and me, properly together under the moon for the first time in ages.
If the other wolves were up and moving by then, there’d be loads of us running together across the Highlands.
The woman in the lab coat—who seemed to be vaguely in charge—had reassured us that all of the chips were presently deactivated, and the “subjects” could only be controlled using software located back at the site, which was on full lockdown.
When Seb had calmly stated he’d put a bullet through her skull the second one of them acted off, she flinched, but didn’t change her story.
Tonight, the rescued shifters would be traumatised, confused, probably terrified. But maybe being in their wolf forms would help. Maybe the simple act of running free under moonlight would start to heal whatever had been done to them.
“I see. Very good.”
A long pause. I fidgeted with the sleeve of Isla’s jumper. “What will happen if you find Isla?”
“When we find Isla,” she corrected, steel creeping back into her voice, “we’ll deal with her.”
What that meant, I didn’t want to know.
“Killigrew Street will need to talk to her,” I said. “We don’t yet know the true scope of GREY’s operation, but Kit says cutting off this arm won’t stop them. There could be wolves all over the world being cut open and tortured and controlled this very second.”
My mother pursed her lips. “We will cooperate,” she said stiffly. “I hope you know me well enough to know I’d never want harm to come to anyone in that way. What those people have done… I’d tear them apart myself, if I could.”
“Did you have any idea Moira was still alive?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She blinked. “Of course I didn’t.”
I met her eyes. “I believed the rumours that Dad killed her.”
After a long pause, she said quietly, “So did I.”
For a moment, something passed between us—an understanding, maybe. Of a sort. I found myself studying her face, really looking at her, but not through the haze of old anger or fear.
She wasn’t a monster. The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut—not the relief I’d expected, but something messier, more complicated.
All these years, I’d needed her to be irredeemably evil.
It was cleaner that way, easier to carry my anger like armour.
But sitting here, watching her hands shake as she processed what Callum had done…
She was a terrible mother, yes. Someone who’d failed me in every way that mattered, absolutely.
But not the snarling beast of my nightmares.
Just a woman who’d made awful choices that had damaged me just as deeply, regardless of her motivations.
And somehow, that felt worse. Because now I had to live with the complexity of it all—the knowledge that someone could have “loved” me in their own twisted way and still destroyed me completely.
Before anything else could be said, I stood up.
“Will you come back again?” she said, voice strained.
I tried to shrug casually. “Who knows? Out of all of you, I only really liked Isla, and she turned out to be a murderous psychopath.” I walked to the door, resting my hand on the handle. “One final thing. How did you know Maxwell was a telepath?”
The way she smiled told me everything. “You know this pack will always do everything it can to protect itself. And you’re not the only one with friends in high places.”
I left the office without looking back.
Maxwell was waiting in the lobby. “Dev’s back at Primrose Cottage. Alex has already left, joining the search for Isla.”
I groaned. “More walking. My legs are going to fall off after this holiday.”
Maxwell’s mouth quirked upwards. “Holiday?”
I waved my arm. “You know, mission. Case. Whatever. I’m tired.”
He caught my hand, squeezing tight as we walked down the stairs towards the cottage. “You did it, Rory,” he said softly. “You saved all those wolves.”
My cheeks warmed. “Kit and Seb did most of the—”
“No.” His grip on my hand tightened. “You did that. And…” He paused, looking like the words were physically painful to get out. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—and you better not do it to me ever again—but I’m glad you ran off when you did.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“If you’d listened to me, and if we’d played it safe and waited for backup… Isla would have gotten away. We’d have lost Dev again. All those wolves would still be trapped, or worse.”
The validation hit me harder than I’d expected. Maxwell—Detective Inspector Theodore Maxwell, who lived and breathed procedure and protocol—was telling me that my chaotic, impulsive, completely ridiculous way of handling things had actually been right.
I had to swallow hard around the sudden tightness in my throat. “Can I have this praise in writing? I want to give it to Seb. He might finally buy me a new car as a reward.”
He laughed. “But I’d miss your old car so much.”
When the cottage came into sight, it was tempting to break into a run. I was suddenly desperate to get back to London. To Killigrew Street Hotel. To real life. To Priya.
“Hopefully Dev has rounded up Freddy for me,” I said.
“I’m sure the pair of them are cuddling as we speak,” Maxwell said, followed by a resigned huff.
I sniggered. “Listen, all you need to do to make Freddy like you is feed him. It’s really that simple.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Let’s pack at the speed of light,” I said. “Good thing my suitcase is still by the door, right?”
Instead of glaring at me, or laughing, Maxwell suddenly grabbed my arm. A particular thread of anxiety seeped into me from him. “Wait a second.”
I stilled.
He cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at me. “When we get back to London… I was just thinking… Perhaps we could… That is, if you wanted to…”
“What? Spit it out.”
His jaw worked silently for a moment. “Would you like to go for dinner? With me. Properly.”
I tilted my head. “We’ve eaten together loads of times.”
“No, I mean—” He ran an exasperated hand through his coils. “A date, Rory. I’m asking you on a date.”
“Oh.” I blinked innocently. “Like a work thing?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re taking the piss.”
“Am I? I mean, we do work together, technically. Very professional dinner conversation about case files—”
“Rory.”
“—and evidence logs, maybe discuss some witness statements over pudding—”
“You absolute menace.” But he was smiling now.
Smiling with teeth. “I’m trying to ask if you’d like to go somewhere nice where I can wine and dine you properly without the threat of supernatural kidnapping or your zombie ferret stealing my chips.
Or maybe even street food from Borough Market, and a walk along the river? ”
I grinned. “Hmm, well I suppose I’ll have to check my diary—”
“For goodness sake, Rory,” he snapped, exasperated. “Do you want to date me or not?”
I burst into laughter, doubling over. The poor man looked like he was about to combust. Then, pressing my hand to his cheek, I went onto tiptoes to kiss the end of his nose.
“Of course I want to date you. Did you forget about the whole mate bond thing? You know, literally tethered to you for all of eternity? I kind of thought dates would be a given. I’m sort of offended we’re even having this conversation. ”
“Well, you said you accidentally bonded us. So I wasn’t sure—”
I cut him off with another kiss, to his mouth this time.
“Trust me, the accidental bit was just the timing. I mean, my wolf basically took one look at you and went ‘that one, definitely that one, yes please with a cherry on top.’ But like I said, if this is too much for you—if I’m too much for you—we can try and—”
Now it was Maxwell’s turn to stop me, smashing his lips into mine.
Then he kissed me, soft and sweet under the Highland sky.
Our bond sang between us, a perfect harmony that made my wolf purr.
I pressed closer, practically trying to climb inside his jacket, while Maxwell’s grip tightened as if he could absorb me into himself, keep me safe in the circle of his arms. Like he never wanted to let me go, like he wanted to keep me safe and close forever.
He still smelled like me—my scent clinging to his skin beneath the crisp Highland air and his own familiar warmth. Mine.
We finally broke apart, breathless and grinning like idiots.
“You’re not too much. You’re exactly enough. And anyone who has ever suggested otherwise never knew what they had.”
Well, shit. This is it then. I’m properly gone for him, aren’t I? Like, completely and utterly fucked. Head over heels. This is either the best or worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
Maxwell blinked rapidly, his warm brown eyes widening. He smiled impossibly wider, then said, soft as starlight: “I think I’m falling in love with you too.”
A grey blur streaked through the air towards me. I had approximately half a second to register Freddy’s glowing yellow eyes and bared fangs before he collided with my face.
“Ow! Freddy, get off—” I stumbled backwards, trying to peel him off where he’d latched onto my cheek. His tiny claws dug into my skin as he chittered excitedly, tail thrashing against my neck.
Maxwell stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Don’t look at me. I’m not touching that thing.”
“He missed me,” I said through gritted teeth, finally managing to extract Freddy’s teeth from my earlobe. I held him at arm’s length, where he continued to wriggle and snap at the air. “Didn’t you, you pesky little—”
Freddy made a sound somewhere between a purr and a growl, then promptly bit my thumb.
“Charming,” Maxwell observed dryly. “Absolutely delightful.”
I cradled Freddy against my chest, where he immediately settled with a satisfied sigh. “You know we’re a package deal, right? Me and this mangy ball of undead fury. You’ll have to learn to love him.”
Maxwell’s expression shifted to one of pure horror. “That’s impossible.”
I grinned, scratching behind Freddy’s tattered ears. “What did we say about impossible things?”
Maxwell stared at us both—me with my post-kiss hair and dopey smile, Freddy with his patchy fur and glowing eyes—and let out a long, defeated sigh.
“I’m doomed, aren’t I?”
“Completely and utterly,” I confirmed cheerfully.
As if on cue, Freddy twisted in my arms and hissed at Maxwell.
Maxwell rubbed his temples. “This is going to be a very long courtship.”