Chapter 1 #2
Evan snorted and climbed out. I followed, the morning air cool against my face, carrying the smell of pine and motor oil and that underlying hum of magic that clung to everything Gideon touched.
Inside, the garage was already coming to life.
Cal Harker was setting up his station with the kind of chaotic energy that drove Mason crazy, tools spread across every available surface in what he called his “organizational system.” Mason, by contrast, had his section arranged in a precise way, every wrench in its place, every rag folded just so.
“Morning, boss,” Cal called to Evan, not even looking up from his chaos. “Henderson called twice already. I'm ignoring him.”
“Good plan.” Evan grabbed his work apron from the hook by the door. “Where's Gideon?”
“Office. Doing his creepy staring-at-nothing thing.” Cal finally glanced over, noticed me, and straightened slightly. “Daniel.”
“Cal.” I nodded at him. “Try not to throw any wrenches today.”
“No promises.”
I left Evan to his work and headed for the back office, navigating around tool chests and lift equipment with the ease of someone who'd been coming here for years. The office door was open, spilling weak yellow light into the dim hallway.
Gideon sat behind his desk, hands wrapped around a coffee cup that had probably been full hours ago. He didn't look up when I appeared in the doorway.
“Daniel.” His voice was gravel and smoke. “Was wondering when you'd show up.”
“You knew I was coming?”
“The forest told me.” At my look, he almost smiled. “I'm kidding. Evan texted.”
“Traitor.”
“He's worried about you. Seems to be going around.” Gideon finally lifted his head, and those sharp blue-gray eyes pinned me where I stood.
He looked like any aging mechanic, weathered and worn and perfectly ordinary.
But there was something behind those eyes that had nothing to do with ordinary.
Something that had seen more than any human lifetime should hold.
“Sit. You're making me nervous hovering like that.”
“I make you nervous?”
“Everything makes me nervous. That's how I've stayed alive this long.”
I sat, the old chair creaking under my weight. The office was small and cluttered, filing cabinets along the walls, a calendar from two years ago still hanging by the window. It smelled like motor oil and sage and something older, something that made my wolf's ears prick forward with recognition.
“Coffee?” Gideon asked, already reaching for the pot on his desk.
“Had some.”
“Have more.” He poured a second mug and pushed it across to me. “You look like death chewing on a hangover.”
“Your bedside manner is legendary.”
“I'm a mechanic, not a nurse.” Gideon settled back, watching me with that unnerving stillness of his. “So. You came here to talk about the forest.”
It wasn't a question.
“It was loud last night,” I said. “Evan felt it too.”
“It's been loud for weeks. Getting louder.” Gideon's jaw tightened. “My wards are holding, but they're... strained. Something's pressing against them. Testing.”
“Testing for what?”
“Weaknesses. Gaps. The patient kind of testing, the kind that doesn't mind waiting.” He met my eyes. “Whatever's out there, Daniel, it's not in a hurry. It's been hungry for a long time. A few more weeks won't make a difference.”
My wolf growled, low and warning, and I had to breathe through it to keep my eyes from flashing. “Can you pinpoint it?”
“If I could, I would have already.” Gideon's mouth twisted. “My wards tell me what's trying to get in. They can't tell me what's already here, biding its time. Watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike.”
“Silas?”
Gideon's face went carefully blank. “Silas hasn't shown his face in Hollow Pines in decades.”
“Doesn't mean he's not pulling strings from the shadows. Men like him don't just disappear. They fester. They plan.”
“No. They don't.” Something flickered in Gideon's eyes. Something old and tired and almost sad. “If it is Silas... if he's finally making his move...”
“Then we need to be ready.”
“Ready.” Gideon laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You can't be ready for Silas, Daniel. You can only survive him. And not everyone does.”
There was weight in those words. History. Pain. But before I could push, Gideon's expression shifted, closing off whatever had been visible for that brief moment.
“There's something else,” he said. “Something you're not saying.”
I wrapped my hands around the coffee mug, let the warmth seep into my palms. “Michael.”
“Ah.” Gideon's eyebrows rose. “The human.”
“Evan says he's not doing well. Working himself ragged, drinking too much. Drowning in that renovation like it's the only thing keeping him afloat.”
“And you care because?”
It wasn't cruel. Gideon was never cruel. But it cut anyway, right to the heart of something I'd been avoiding for months.
“I care because he's pack-adjacent. His son is mated to my son. That makes him family, whether he wants the title or not.”
“Pack-adjacent.” Gideon repeated the words slowly, tasting them. “Is that what we're calling it?”
“What else would we call it?”
“I don't know, Daniel. What would you call it?
That thing that happens when he walks into a room?
The way your wolf goes quiet and watchful every time you catch his scent?
The way you've been circling him for months like a man standing outside in the cold, staring at a fire he won't let himself touch?”
I stared at him. “How do you...”
“I'm old. I notice things.” Gideon leaned forward, and for just a moment, I saw something beneath the gruff mechanic exterior.
Something ancient and knowing and almost kind.
“You've been alone for years. If we count the years you spent watching Claire fade.
You've given everything to this pack, to this town, to that boy of yours.
At some point, Daniel, you're allowed to want something for yourself.”
“Claire was my mate.”
“Yes. She was. And she's been gone a long time.” His voice softened. “The dead don't need your loyalty. They need you to keep living. Keep fighting. Keep letting yourself feel things, even when feeling things is terrifying.”
“When did you get so philosophical?”
“When I got too old to waste time on bullshit.” Gideon drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Go check on Michael.”
I stood too, suddenly restless, suddenly needing air. “You know, for someone who claims to stay out of pack business, you're awfully invested in my love life.”
“Who said anything about love?” Gideon's eyes glinted. “The rest is between you and whatever's left of your conscience.”
“I don't have a conscience. I'm an Alpha.”
“Those aren't mutually exclusive.”
“They feel like they should be.”
Gideon laughed. Actually laughed, rough and rusty like he'd forgotten how. “Get out of my office, Daniel. Some of us have work to do.”
I headed for the door, then paused with my hand on the frame. “Gideon.”
“Hmm?”
“Whatever's coming... when it gets here... I need to know I can count on you.”
The laughter faded from his face. Something older looked back at me, something that had survived more darkness than I could imagine.
“You can count on me,” he said quietly. “For what it's worth. For whatever time we have left.”
It wasn't a promise. It was something better.
It was the truth.