Chapter New Wings #2
The dining room could have seated thirty easily. Crystal chandeliers hung from ceilings painted with scenes I didn't recognize but suspected were worth more than my old house. The table was set with china that looked antique and probably was.
Adrian sat at the head of the table in a suit that probably cost more than I'd made in six months of fighting. Noah sat beside him, quieter but no less commanding in presence. Viktor and Sebastian were across from them, the prince looking far more relaxed than I'd expected royalty to look.
Luka and Ash arrived together. Took seats near Troy and me with the easy familiarity that came from years of operating in each other's orbits. Dom and Cal showed up fashionably late, both of them looking like they'd come straight from work and hadn't bothered changing.
Dmitri appeared from wherever he'd been lurking. Ethan followed with a bottle of wine that Adrian accepted with what looked like approval, though his expression barely shifted.
It was overwhelming and surreal, exactly the dinner I never would have imagined myself attending a month ago.
But as the meal progressed and conversation flowed, I started to understand what Troy had meant about Ravenswood being home. These people were dangerous and connected, operating in worlds I'd only glimpsed through Troy's work with the Sentinel Network.
But they were also family.
Adrian made dry comments about the challenges of running a household this size.
Noah interjected with medical anecdotes that made everyone laugh.
Viktor told a story about Sebastian's recent diplomatic function that involved champagne, a minor international incident, and Sebastian's complete inability to suffer fools.
Luka asked about the rehab center with genuine interest. Wanted to know timelines and programming and whether we'd need additional security given the clientele we'd be serving.
When I explained the plans, he offered resources without hesitation.
Connections. Funding if we needed it. Protection if the work attracted the wrong attention.
Troy handled it all with growing ease. Made jokes. Told stories about Chicago. Deflected questions about his recovery with practiced charm that suggested he'd learned how to navigate these dinners years ago.
I watched him across the table and realized this was the most settled I'd ever seen him. Still sharp. Still dangerous underneath the surface. But no longer moving like he expected the floor to vanish beneath him.
“You're staring,” Ash said quietly from beside me.
“Am I?”
“Blatantly.” He refilled my wine glass. “Though I can't blame you. He looks good. Happy, even.”
“He does.”
“So do you.” Ash studied me with eyes that missed nothing. “Different than when you first got here. Less like you're waiting for permission to stay.”
“I'm still adjusting.”
“That's fair. Ravenswood takes some getting used to.” He glanced at Adrian. At the opulence surrounding us. “But you'll figure it out. Troy did. And he was considerably more fucked up when he arrived than you are.”
I smiled despite myself. “That's comforting.”
“It should be. Means there's hope for all of us.”
After dinner, the gathering moved to one of the sitting rooms Adrian kept for entertaining. Smaller than the dining room but no less elegant. Leather couches. A fireplace that actually worked. Windows overlooking gardens that looked haunted in the darkness beyond the glass.
Conversation continued in smaller clusters.
Dom and Cal argued about legal technicalities that went over my head.
Viktor and Sebastian sat close together on a couch, Sebastian's hand resting on Viktor's thigh in casual intimacy.
Adrian and Noah discussed household logistics with meticulous attention to detail that suggested running Ravenswood was a full-time occupation.
Troy found me near the windows. Handed me a glass of whiskey that probably cost more than I wanted to know.
“You doing okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Your family's intense, but I like them.”
“They're not my family. They're—” He stopped. Reconsidered. “Okay, they're my family. But that's still weird to say out loud.”
“Why?”
“Because family was you and my mom for most of my life. Then just you. Then nobody because I was too fucked up to let anyone close.” He looked around the room. “This is different. Chosen instead of assigned. Earned instead of inherited.”
“Chosen family's still family.”
“Yeah. It is.” He leaned against me with just enough weight that I felt the solidness of him pressed to my side. “Thanks for being here. For doing this. I know it's a lot.”
“It's worth it.”
Troy smiled. Started to say more, then stopped as a familiar scratching sound came from the hallway outside.
“Shit,” he muttered. “I forgot about her.”
“Forgot about who?”
Before he could answer, the door swung open and a blur of brown and white fur bolted into the room with enthusiasm that suggested she'd been waiting for exactly this moment.
The dog was medium-sized, a terrier mix with floppy ears and eyes that were too smart for her own good. She made a beeline straight for Troy, jumping up against his legs and wagging her entire back half hard enough to throw off her balance.
“Down, Maggie,” Troy said without any real authority. “I said down.”
Maggie ignored him completely. Turned her attention to me instead. Decided I was equally worthy of love and launched herself at my knees.
“When did we get a dog?” I asked, crouching down to let her sniff my hands. She licked my fingers immediately, tail still going wild.
“This morning. Technically yesterday morning. It's been twenty-six hours.” Troy rubbed the back of his neck. “I was going to tell you but then the contractor meeting happened and then dinner and I figured it could wait until after.”
“You adopted a dog without telling me?”
“I rescued a dog without telling you. There's a difference.” He knelt down beside me.
Maggie immediately abandoned me to crawl into his lap, which she was absolutely too big for.
“Luka called. Said one of the safe houses had a stray hanging around that wouldn't leave.
They fed her, got her checked by a vet, and when nobody claimed her they were going to take her to a shelter. So I said we'd take her instead.”
“We.”
“Yeah. We.” Troy looked up at me. “Unless you don't want a dog. In which case I'll find her another home and pretend this conversation never happened.”
Maggie chose that moment to roll onto her back in Troy's lap. Exposed her belly in shameless demand for attention while making small whining noises that suggested she'd perfected the art of manipulation.
“She's very subtle,” I said.
“She's a menace. Chewed through one of Adrian's fancy cushions within the first hour.
He was remarkably calm about it, which means he's either mellowing or planning my murder.” Troy scratched her stomach.
“But she's also house-trained, doesn't bark unless there's a reason, and she's been following me around like I'm the most interesting thing she's ever seen. So I'm keeping her.”
“You mean we're keeping her.”
“I mean we're keeping her if you're okay with it.” His voice went quieter.
More serious. “I know it's another thing I sprung on you without asking. But she was sitting there in that safe house looking lost and I just thought—” He stopped.
Started again. “I thought maybe she could be ours.
One more piece of building a life here that's actually permanent.”
I looked at the dog. At Troy. At the room full of people who'd become family without either of us