Chapter 24 Traitor
TRAITOR
MICHAEL
The café smelled like coffee and cinnamon rolls and the particular warmth that came from Martha's domain. She looked up from behind the counter, took one look at my face, and her expression shifted into something knowing and fond.
“Well,” she said, voice carrying just enough to make me want to sink through the floor. “Someone's having a good morning.”
“Coffee,” I managed. “Please.”
“Mm-hmm.” But she poured without comment, slid the mug across the counter. “Your boy's already here. Grabbed the booth by the window about ten minutes ago.”
I followed her gesture and found Nate sprawled in the corner booth with his camera beside him and that expression he got when he was trying very hard not to laugh.
His rust-colored hair caught the light streaming through the window, and for a second he looked so much like Anna it made my chest tight.
“Thanks, Martha.”
“Anytime, honey.” She patted my hand with maternal affection.
I carried my coffee across the café, slid into the booth across from Nate, and immediately knew I was in trouble. His eyes were too bright, mouth twitching with suppressed amusement, and he was definitely sniffing the air in that way wolves did when they were cataloguing scents.
“Don't,” I said.
“Don't what?” All innocence, but his grin was pure evil.
“Whatever you're about to say. Just don't.”
“I wasn't going to say anything.” He picked up his own coffee, took a deliberate sip. “Just making an observation about how thoroughly you smell like Daniel right now. Like, aggressively like him. Like you either rolled around in his laundry or—”
“Nate.”
“—spent the morning doing very athletic things that I absolutely do not want details about because you're my dad and that's disturbing on multiple levels.” His grin widened.
“But good for you. Seriously. Evan mentioned Daniel's been walking around looking less like he's about to murder someone, so whatever you're doing, keep doing it.”
Heat flooded my face. “Can we please talk about literally anything else?”
“We could talk about how you're moving into the pack house.” Nate's expression shifted, went softer. “Evan told me. Said Daniel asked you to move in and you said yes.”
“Yeah. He did. I did.” I wrapped both hands around my coffee mug, needing something to hold. “Is that weird? Too fast?”
“Dad. You've been circling each other for months like you're both terrified to actually reach for what you want.
Moving in together isn't too fast. If anything, it's overdue.” Nate leaned forward, and I saw Anna in the tilt of his head, the way he looked at me like he could see straight through every wall I'd built.
“You deserve to be happy. Mom would want you to be happy.”
“I know.” My throat went tight. “
“Gideon told Evan about the bloodline thing. About the Harringtons being descended from nature-warlocks.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Honestly? It makes so much sense it's almost embarrassing I didn't figure it out sooner.” Nate's fingers traced patterns on the table, unconscious geometry that looked suspiciously like ward marks.
“I always felt different, you know? Like there was something underneath my skin trying to get out. And then I died and the forest woke it up and suddenly everything clicked into place.”
“You're not scared?”
“Terrified. But also relieved? Like I finally understand why I never quite fit anywhere except here.” His eyes met mine, storm-gray like his mother's. Then something shifted in his expression. Hardened. “What I don't understand is why I had to hear about your awakening from Evan instead of you.”
My stomach dropped. “Nate—”
“You nearly died, Dad. You fought eight corrupted wolves and triggered a ward burst that almost killed you, and you didn't think I needed to know?” His voice cracked.
“I had to find out from my boyfriend that my father was bleeding out in Gideon's garage while I was sitting at home thinking everything was fine.”
“I asked Daniel not to tell you.”
“That's not your choice to make.”
“You're my son. Protecting you is always my choice.”
“I'm not a child anymore.” Nate's jaw tightened, and for a moment he looked so much like Anna that my chest ached.
“I've died and come back. I've got magic running through my blood that I'm still learning to control.
I've watched people I love get hurt and I've fought beside wolves and I've survived things that should have broken me.” His voice went rough.
“I'm not the kid you need to shelter from hard truths. Not anymore.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “I know you're not.
But Nate, when I was lying on that garage floor with corruption spreading through my blood, all I could think about was your face.
Your mother's face. The look you had at her funeral when you were trying so hard to be strong for me.” I swallowed around the tightness in my throat.
“I couldn't do that to you again. Couldn't make you watch me fall apart when you'd just started putting yourself back together.”
“So instead you let me find out secondhand. Let me spend three days not knowing my father almost died.” Nate's eyes were wet now. “Do you know what that felt like? Evan trying to tell me gently, like he was breaking bad news, and me just standing there realizing everyone knew except me?”
“I'm sorry. I was wrong. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just... I was scared. Scared of being weak in front of you. Scared of being another thing you had to worry about.”
“You're my dad.” Nate's voice broke. “Worrying about you is part of the job description. And I'd rather worry about the truth than be blindsided by it later.”
Silence stretched between us. The coffee shop hummed with quiet activity, other customers lost in their own conversations, oblivious to the father and son working through something painful at a corner table.
“You're right,” I said finally. “No more secrets. Not about this. Not about anything that could hurt us. I promise.”
Nate studied me for a long moment. Searching for something in my face. Then, slowly, he nodded.
“Okay.” He let out a breath. “Okay. But Dad, if you ever pull something like this again—”
“You have full permission to yell at me in front of the entire pack.”
A surprised laugh escaped him. “I'm holding you to that.”
“I'd expect nothing less.” I reached across the table, and this time when I squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. “I love you, Nate. Even when I'm being a stubborn idiot.”
“Especially when you're being a stubborn idiot.” His smile was watery but real. “It's genetic. Mom always said so.”
“Your mother was rarely wrong about anything.”
“I know.” Nate's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand. The same gesture Anna used to make. “She'd be proud of you, you know. The magic, the fighting, the whole protective dad thing even when it drives me crazy.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” He pulled his hand back, reached for his coffee. “Now. Tell me everything. From the beginning. What did the moon say when it spoke to you?”
So I told him. All of it. The clearing, the corrupted wolves, Alaric going down and me throwing myself in front of him.
The moon's voice in my head, ancient and certain, calling me child of the old blood.
The power erupting from my hands like liquid silver, burning through corruption, fixing the ward stone.
Nate listened with an intensity that reminded me he wasn't just my son anymore. He was a fellow practitioner. Someone who understood magic from the inside out.
“The moon spoke to you,” he said when I finished. “Actually spoke. That's... Dad, that's significant. Gideon's been teaching me about the old ways, and direct communication from the moon is rare. Like, really rare.”
“What does it mean?”
“I don't know yet. But we'll figure it out.” His smile was fierce now. Determined. “Together. No more going it alone, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Good.” Nate's fingers traced patterns on the table again, unconscious geometry that looked suspiciously like ward marks. “What about you? How are you handling the whole 'surprise, you're magic' revelation?”
“Still processing,” I said. “Gideon's been helping me understand the basics. But it's like learning a new language while someone's actively trying to kill you with it.”
“Welcome to Hollow Pines. Where nothing's easy and everything wants to eat you.” Nate's smile was wry.
“But seriously, Dad. You're doing better than you think. Evan told me what happened in the clearing. Said you took down eight corrupted wolves and triggered a ward burst powerful enough to light up half the eastern boundary.”
“And nearly died doing it.”
“But you didn't. You survived. You're here.” He reached across the table, squeezed my hand briefly. “And now you've got magic that could actually help protect this place. Help protect the pack. That's not nothing.”
The bell over the door chimed. I looked up automatically, some new instinct making me track movement, and saw Rafe enter. He moved with that easy confidence, all smiles and casual charm as he ordered coffee from Martha.
“You okay?” Nate asked quietly.
“Yeah. Just—” I gestured vaguely toward Rafe. “Something about him feels off.”
“Evan thinks so too. Says Rafe's been helpful but there's something underneath that doesn't add up.” Nate's voice dropped. “Daniel trusts him though.”
“What do you mean?”
“The attack on you wasn't random, Dad. Someone knew exactly where you'd be, exactly when the wards would be weakest. And Rafe's the only one who wasn't accounted for during that window.” Nate's jaw tightened.
Rafe collected his coffee, turned toward the door, and caught my eye across the café. His smile was warm, friendly, completely genuine-looking.
“Michael,” he called. “Good to see you up and around. Heard you had quite the encounter.”
“Yeah. Got lucky.”