Chapter 23 #2
Ashton’s gaze never wavered. "We’ll keep an eye on Vivienne. But you need to focus on your family. Bryce is what matters now."
I stood, restless, and circled the room. "I am focused. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to wake up one morning and find out she’s ‘studying’ him in a lab or carting him off to some coven in the city. I want a plan."
Ashton drummed his fingers on the desk. "You let us worry about Vivienne. Your job is to make sure Bryce doesn’t explode again."
That stung, but I bit back my retort.
Drake stood, stretched, and clapped a hand on my back, almost knocking the air out of me. "Go home, Z. Spend time with your mate. Enjoy the peace while it lasts."
I shot Ashton one last look, willing him to take this seriously. His eyes softened, but only a fraction. "If Vivienne steps out of line, I’ll handle it."
I nodded, then left the room, the sound of the heavy doors closing behind me louder than any argument.
The ride back to the cottage was a blur. I replayed every word, every slight, every place where Ashton’s calm had bordered on arrogance. I didn’t like being dismissed. The mate bond made it worse, amplifying every threat and reducing every priority to a single point. Keep Bryce safe.
I parked out front, and the house looked exactly as I’d left it, humble, a little battered, but radiating the kind of warmth only a lived-in place could.
I let myself in, found Krystal at the kitchen table, laptop open and papers spread everywhere.
She looked up, and her smile softened the edge in me.
"Hey," she said. "How’d it go?"
I hesitated, then sat beside her, sinking into the smell of coffee and the sound of Bryce humming along to a cartoon in the next room. "They think I’m overreacting."
She closed the laptop and turned to me, her hand covering mine. "Are you?"
I wanted to say no, to rail against Ashton and Drake and everyone else who thought I was being a paranoid dad. But Krystal’s eyes, steady and kind, made me pause.
"I don’t know," I admitted. "Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like it."
She squeezed my hand. "It’s new, Zaden. For both of us. Maybe you’re seeing threats because that’s what you’re used to."
I wanted to protest, but the logic was solid. I’d spent two centuries watching my back, cataloging every way the world could go wrong. Maybe I didn’t know how to let down my guard, even when I wanted to.
"Maybe you’re right," I said in defeat.
She smiled, pulling me in for a soft, grounding kiss. "If you are, we’ll deal with it. Together."
The knot in my chest loosened a little.
Dinner at Krystal’s place felt less like a meal and more like an unspoken test. Nathan showed up five minutes early, Rissa and Elle in tow, both bearing foil-topped pans and the brittle optimism of people trying too hard.
The kitchen overflowed with the scents of garlic and melted cheese, Bryce darting between the grownups like a ferret hyped up on sugar.
The table, an old farm slab warped by a decade of spills and hot pans, groaned under the weight of lasagna, salad, two kinds of bread, and a huge cake.
Krystal played hostess, bustling and brisk, but her eyes tracked every movement, especially Bryce’s.
The kid looked better than he had in days, color back in his cheeks, a bounce in his step, but he hovered at my side whenever the room got too loud.
I didn’t blame him. Nathan still gave me the cop stare, arms folded and jaw set, like he expected me to steal the silverware or bite someone.
We sat, filled plates, and passed dishes left and right.
Rissa made small talk about her new class at the elementary school.
Elle, thirteen and growing into her own set of wolfish quirks, rolled her eyes and poked at her salad.
Nathan held down the adult end of the conversation, talking about a recent animal control incident involving a black bear and an entire box of Pop-Tarts.
I watched Bryce the whole time, counting the seconds between every wince, every hand-to-temple move. He smiled more than I’d seen so far, but it had a jagged edge to it, like he was fighting to stay in the present.
Halfway through the meal, he launched into a story about a video game he’d played at Nathan’s house the weekend before.
"So, you’re this frog, but you have to cross the road and then there’s a river, and if you land on the wrong log, you die, but if you get all the way, you get a new skin. Like, rainbow or ninja or zombie."
Elle perked up. "Wait, is this the one where the logs move at different speeds?"
Bryce nodded, mouth full of bread. "And there’s a hawk that tries to eat you if you stay on the edge."
Nathan, who’d been silent up to now, grunted. "The kid’s got the highest score in the house. We had to unplug the TV to get him outside last Sunday."
Krystal laughed, the sound chasing away some of the tension. "At least he’s not blowing up the microwave anymore."
That got a chuckle out of everyone, even Rissa.
Bryce beamed, shoulders uncoiling. "Can I show them? After dinner?"
"Let’s clear the table first," Krystal said.
Bryce started stacking plates, hands moving fast, and that’s when it happened.
Mid-motion, he laughed, a sharp, wild sound, and all the forks and knives on the table jerked.
In an instant, the silverware twisted, bending at sharp angles, a couple of spoons corkscrewing in place.
It happened fast, the utensils clattering as they reshaped, then settling into a heap of metallic knots.
For a moment, no one breathed.
Then Bryce’s hands went still. He stared at the mess, horror stretching his face white. "I didn’t mean to," he whispered. His eyes darted to Krystal, then Nathan, then to me.
Krystal moved first, crossing to him in a heartbeat. She knelt, pulled his hands away from the tangle, and brushed the hair from his brow. "It’s okay, B. You’re safe. Breathe."
Nathan’s expression had gone cold, cop-mask back in place. He reached for a fork, studying the twist like it might be evidence in a case. Elle just looked fascinated.
I knelt next to Bryce, laying a hand on his shoulder. "It’s fine, bud. Accidents happen."
He met my eyes, and the fear in his face gutted me. "Will I do it again?"
"Maybe," I said. "But you’ll get better at it. Aurelia went through something like this when she was young." It hadn't been nearly this bad, but all witches had to learn.
He swallowed, then nodded, clinging to the words like a lifeline.
Krystal smoothed his hair. "You want to show Elle your game?"
He hesitated, then shot up, running for the living room. Elle followed, still wide-eyed.
Krystal, Nathan, Rissa and me, stood in the kitchen, the air thick with aftershock.
Nathan set the fork down. "He’s not just a kid, is he?"
Krystal drew herself up, ready to defend. "He’s our son."
Nathan’s jaw worked. "I know that. But this—" He gestured at the table. "If anyone else sees, it won’t be just a family issue. You know the council. They’ll want answers. Solutions."
I straightened, letting the dragon seep into my stance. "There are no answers. Only more problems. We’ll handle it."
Nathan stared me down, measuring. "You’d better."
He left the kitchen, muttering something about needing air. Rissa slipped after him, her face pinched with worry.
That left Krystal and me alone. She sagged against the counter, arms folded.
I came up behind her, hands on her shoulders. She shook, just a little, but leaned into me. "He’s not okay," she said. "I keep telling myself it’ll get easier, but…"
I kissed her neck, just above the place my mark had already faded to a faint crescent. "We’ll figure it out. One day at a time."
She turned, searching my face. "What if I’m not enough? What if none of us are?"
I cupped her cheek. "Then we try harder. We don’t quit."
She nodded, a thin smile finding its way back.
We joined the kids in the living room. Bryce and Elle were shouting at the TV, both intent on getting their frogs across the river in one piece. For the first time all night, Bryce didn’t look scared. He just looked like a kid, beating the game and laughing with his cousin.
I stood in the doorway, watching him.
I’d been a lot of things in my life. screw-up, smartass, the punchline of a hundred Beck family stories.
But I’d never been a father, not until now.
The mate bond had rewired my instincts, making every second of Bryce’s happiness worth more than any of the centuries behind me. My job wasn’t just to keep him safe.
It was to make sure he grew up in a world that wouldn’t break him for being different.
Even if that meant going to war with the world.
Krystal slipped her hand into mine, fingers lacing tight.
"Still worried?" she asked, lips brushing my ear.
"Always," I said.
But it was the best feeling in the world.