Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-seven
COLBY
Colby didn’t remember standing. But suddenly he was on his feet, chair shoved back from the table, the eyes of the pack fixed on him like they weren’t sure if he was about to bolt or shift or throw up.
He wasn’t sure either.
“I need some air,” he said hoarsely. He didn’t wait for permission, just turned and walked out through the door, down the back steps, into the night.
The air was cold on his face, and he breathed deeply, trying to still the churning in his gut. He felt like he might vomit his meal onto the dirt.
Tomorrow. They were going back there. And Tristan was going with them. His stomach turned, and he pressed a hand to it, as if he could stop the nausea that way.
He should have expected this. Of course they’d confront Cale eventually.
But hearing Matt say it so calmly, like it was just another item on the to-do list…
He’d been feeling safe. Not safe-safe—he didn’t think he even remembered what that was—but safer.
He’d started to let himself want things. Like Tristan.
But now, Tristan was walking straight into danger. Tristan, who didn’t know what Cale and Nico were capable of. Tristan, who might not come back.
Panic, raw and gut-deep, made his breath come in gasps. That meant he didn’t hear Tristan until he was close, footsteps soft behind him.
“You okay?” Tristan asked, voice quiet.
Colby shook his head, unable to speak.
Tristan’s hand, warm and steady, brushed his. Didn’t take it, didn’t restrain him. Just reminded him, Tristan was there. “Talk to me.”
What could he say? That the thought of losing Tristan made his heart seize? That the reminder Cale was still out there, that Nico was still out there, threatened to overturn the balance he’d started to find.
“I know why you have to go,” he said at last, his voice rough. “Matt’s right that this needs finishing. And it’s your pack. I get that you can’t let them go without you.” But please, God, why can’t you?
He turned to look at Tristan, and whatever Tristan saw in his face made his expression crumple a little. He stepped closer, his hands coming up to rest gently on Colby’s arms.
“I’ll be with Matt and Bryce. And everyone. I’ll be okay.”
The blind faith he had in them, the lack of knowledge of what Cale might do made Colby almost sob in panic. “You don’t know that.”
Tristan hesitated. “No, I don’t. But I believe it.”
Colby wanted to believe it too. Wanted to lean into the comfort of Tristan’s certainty. But fear still clawed at his throat.
His hands were clenched at his sides. If he didn’t say it now, the dread would drown him. “I want to come,” he whispered. The very thought of it terrified him, but it was still better than the alternative. “If anything happens to you and I’m not there—”
His voice cracked. He couldn’t finish.
Tristan pulled him in, wrapping him in his arms like he was anchoring them both. “I know,” he murmured. “I know.”
They stood there in silence, breathing together. It didn’t fix anything, but it held the pieces in place.
TRISTAN
When Colby’s breathing had steadied, Tristan drew back.
“We’d better put the goats in for the night,” he said. “And by we, I mean you, as you’re the chief goat wrangler so far as Chaos is concerned. I think she’s planning your coronation.”
The smile Colby tried to give was a wreck, but the fact he’d tried was enough.
Tristan knew Colby was still fragile but he also knew, any moment now, half the pack would be coming out the back door, and the last thing he wanted was Christian saying something snide and making Colby feel even worse.
Rounding up the goats would keep him away from the others.
An energetic twenty minutes later, they were securing two sulky goats in their pen for the night. Colby rubbed Chaos’s head gently as she pressed against his leg, and it seemed like the contact grounded him further.
Chaos and Mayhem safely secured, Tristan and Colby lingered outside.
The cool air and open sky made it easier to breathe.
And if they went in now, Tristan wasn’t sure which of the pack would still be in the kitchen, maybe talking about tomorrow.
He’d missed hearing Matt’s plans, but he’d had no choice other than to go after Colby.
That reminded him. “You know Christian was just being an asshole, don’t you? Matt stopped him. Like, seriously shut him down.”
Colby’s brows drew together. “What?”
Oh, God—Tristan had done it again. Opened his mouth and inserted his foot. “Nothing,” he said hurriedly.
“No,” Colby said, and that was new—that he was daring to persist in the face of Tristan’s denial. “It was something. I just don’t know what.”
Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut. “He thought you walked out because you were going to warn Cale. He was all set to follow you, but Matt stopped him.”
The confusion in Colby’s eyes turned to something darker. “They thought I’d go back to the pack that hurt you?”
Oh, God. The pain in Colby’s voice, and then his face closed down, returning to that expressionless look Tristan was beginning to hate.
“No one else thought that,” Tristan said quickly.
“And Christian will come around. It takes him time. He hated Jesse when he first came here, though I think that was mainly because he hurt Dave. Anyway, d’you want a coffee or something?
Or, I suppose, we should get an early night if we’re leaving so early tomorrow morning. ”
Colby nodded, and they headed back to the house in silence. It wasn’t easy between them, the way it had been that afternoon. Colby’s jaw and fists were clenched, like he was holding himself together through sheer determination.
Most of the pack had scattered, though Jason and Riley were sitting at the table, talking quietly, and Jesse was sitting on one of the counters. Mercifully, he said nothing, instead simply offered Colby a blueberry from the bowl he’d been hoarding. Like a peace offering, or maybe a benediction.
They changed for bed and brushed their teeth together in continuing silence. When they came out of the bathroom, Colby sat down heavily on the bed, his eyes far away.
Tristan dropped to sit beside him, his shoulder brushing Colby’s. “You okay?”
“No.” It didn’t sound bitter, just honest. His fingers were clenched in the comforter. “I keep thinking, what if something happens and I’m not there?”
Tristan was quiet for a beat, wondering how to deal with the pain in Colby’s voice. Then he said, very gently, “It’s not your job to protect me.”
Colby turned to look at him. “It is. I’m your mate. And beyond that, even, there’s nothing more important than keeping you safe.”
The look in his eyes—exhausted, scared, hopeless—twisted Tristan’s heart.
He’d known Colby was hurting, but this was the first time he’d seen how deep it ran, how much of him had been hollowed out by fear.
Even with so little left, he’d been trying to rebuild, with a dogged, quiet courage.
And it had all fallen apart once he heard Tristan was going back there, to Cale’s compound.
To the place that, for Colby, had been hell on earth.
He slid a hand behind Colby’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Nothing’s going to happen.” He knew with everything in him that he’d be safe with his pack. He just had to convince Colby.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know my pack. I know Matt, Bryce, Karl. They’re not going to let anything happen to me.”
Colby exhaled shakily. “I want to believe that.”
“I know.”
They stayed like that for a long moment, forehead to forehead, breath to breath. Then Colby shifted, pulling back just far enough to slide under the covers. His movements were slow, resigned, like a soldier bracing for another long fight.
Tristan followed him in, switching off the lamp, letting the darkness settle. They curled together in bed, Colby pressed into his side. One of his hands found Tristan’s top and curled there, fisted in the fabric as if it tethered him.
And just when Tristan thought Colby had drifted off, he heard a whisper against his shoulder. “Stay close. Please.”
And Tristan understood. Not just with his heart, but in his wolf, his blood, his bones.
“Always,” he said softly. “I’ll never leave you.”