Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
KIER
Imight be interested in joining Shadowmist, but twenty years as a lone wolf didn’t prepare me for this.
The Shadowmist den pulses with constant activity—wolves moving through corridors, conversations echoing off stone walls, the perpetual hum of pack life that never seems to stop.
After three years of silence broken only by screams and torture, followed by weeks of just Lithia’s voice, the sheer noise sets my teeth on edge.
I lean against the balustrade overlooking the training yard. Below, pack members spar in organized chaos. They move with the easy familiarity of wolves who’ve known each other for years, finishing each other’s movements, communicating with glances and subtle shifts in posture.
I don’t belong here.
The thought sits heavy in my chest, a truth I’ve been avoiding for days. As much as I wish to stay, I can’t become another Levi, watching the woman I love ignore me.
Shadowmist has been nothing but welcoming—but hospitality isn’t the same as belonging.
A wolf steps beside me carrying two mugs that smell of something strong and bitter.
He carries a trace of Lithia’s scent. I glance sharply at him, relaxing when I see it’s Dane.
Lithia’s twin has her same sharp bone structure and pale blue eyes, but where she radiates controlled fury, he carries a gentler warmth.
“Thought you might want company,” he says, offering me one of the mugs. “You’ve been keeping to yourself.”
I accept the drink—some kind of herbal tea that burns pleasantly down my throat. “Not much of a joiner.”
“So I gathered.” Dane settles against the balustrade, mimicking my pose. “Though you did fine on those perimeter checks last week. I notice you didn’t even complain about the rain like some of our softer pack members.”
I smile, remembering the torrential downpour we’d trudged through together. “Your definition of ‘light drizzle’ needs serious recalibration.”
“Hey, I warned you to bring a jacket,” Dane grins.
“You said, and I quote, ‘maybe grab something in case it gets chilly.’ That’s not the same as ‘prepare for biblical flooding.’”
Dane laughs, the sound surprisingly similar to his sister’s. “Semantics. At least you kept up.” He takes a long drink before smacking his lips together.
The kid is as subtle as a punch to the face. I wait for whatever question he has to ask me.
“You know, twenty years as a nomad. That’s a long time alone.”
“No shit.”
“Do you miss it?”
I shrug. “It suited me.”
“Past tense?”
I take another sip, considering the question. “Your sister has a way of complicating things.”
Dane snorts. “That’s one way to put it. Lithia’s never done anything the easy way.” His expression turns serious. “What are your intentions regarding her?”
The directness catches me off guard, though I probably should have expected it. Pack bonds run deep, and twin bonds deeper still.
“Are you asking as her brother or as a member of this pack?”
“Both. And as someone who’s just starting to enjoy having you around.” Dane’s tone shifts, becoming more earnest despite his casual posture. “It would be a shame to have to hate you just when I’m getting used to your terrible jokes.”
“My jokes are excellent,” I protest with mock offense.
“The pun you made about the elk tracks yesterday was unforgivable and you know it.”
I can’t help but smile at the memory. “Made you laugh, though.”
“A momentary lapse in judgment,” Dane counters, but his eyes are warm. He pauses, then adds more seriously, “Look, I care about my sister’s happiness. And weirdly enough, I’m starting to care about yours too.”
I meet his gaze. “I care about her. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a very long time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Fair enough. I set down the mug, choosing my words carefully. “I want to stay. To be part of this pack, to be with her. But I won’t force either situation if I’m not wanted.”
“And if she pushes you away? Because she will—it’s what she does when she starts catching feelings for something.”
“Then I’ll push back. Until she believes I’m not going anywhere.”
Dane nods slowly. “Good answer.” He pauses, then adds, “She’s been alone too long. If it’s possible to be a nomad in a pack, that’s what she is. She’s convinced herself that caring equals losing. Our parents died protecting us when we were children. She’s never forgiven herself for surviving.”
“Survivor’s guilt.” I know it well.
“Among other things.” Dane looks down at the training yard. “She’ll test you, probably sooner than later. Make sure you’re ready for it.”
Before I can ask what he means, he changes the subject. “Want to spar? I could use the practice, and you look like you need to hit something.”
“You really want to take me on?”
He flexes his muscles. “Might as well see if you can hold your own against a Shadowmist wolf.”
“I beat your Alpha.”
He hesitates then shrugs. “Maybe Ryker’s getting old.”
I snort. “I’d like to see you say that to his face.”
The training yard is busy when we arrive, pairs of wolves working through drills while others watch and offer commentary. Conversations slow when Dane and I step onto the sand, curious gazes tracking our movements.
“Friendly match,” Dane announces to the assembled wolves. “First to yield or first blood.”
Great. An audience.
I strip off my shirt, noting how several of the watching wolves assess the scars that mark my torso—silver burns, knife wounds, evidence of a life lived hard. Dane does the same, revealing the lean muscle of someone who’s spent years tracking through difficult terrain.
We circle each other, taking measure. He’s fast, I can tell from the way he moves, but built for endurance rather than power. I have reach and weight advantages, but he’s fast and has stamina.
It’ll be a close match.
“Begin,” someone calls, and Dane strikes.
He’s even faster than I expected, darting in with a quick jab that I barely deflect. His follow-up comes immediately—a low sweep designed to take out my legs. I leap back, countering with a straight right that he slips away from.
The watching wolves murmur approval as we settle into a rhythm of attack and defense. Dane fights smart, using his speed to stay out of my reach while landing quick strikes whenever I over-commit. I fight like the nomad I am—aggressive, opportunistic, always looking for the decisive blow.
It’s good. Better than good. For the first time since arriving at Shadowmist, I feel like myself.
Dane feints left, then spins right with a backhand that clips my jaw. I taste blood, grin, and surge forward. My shoulder catches him in the chest, driving him back several steps before he recovers his balance.
“Not bad for an old man,” he pants, grinning.
“Old man?” I circle him slowly, looking for an opening. “I’m thirty-eight.”
“Ancient,” he confirms, then lunges.
We grapple, strength against speed, each trying to gain the decisive advantage. The watching wolves call out encouragement and advice, the atmosphere more like play than serious combat. For a moment, I can almost imagine belonging here.
Then Dane gets a grip on my arm and uses his momentum to throw me hard into the sand. I roll, come up spitting dirt, and nod to grant him the win.
“Yield,” I say, earning approving nods from the spectators.
“Good match,” Dane says, offering me a hand up. “You know your stuff.”
“Occupational hazard.”
We’re cleaning ourselves off when another voice cuts through the ambient noise.
“What a touching display of male bonding.”
I turn to find Levi approaching, his expression carrying the kind of predatory satisfaction that makes my wolf bristle. He’s flanked by two other wolves I don’t recognize, both watching me curiously.
“Levi,” Dane acknowledges coolly. “Enjoying the show?”
Levi’s yellow eyes fix on me. “I was wondering when our guest would demonstrate what he’s capable of.”
The emphasis on “guest” isn’t subtle, and neither is the message.
“Something on your mind?” I ask, keeping my voice level.
“Just curious about your long-term plans.” Levi moves closer, using his size to try to intimidate. “Will you be moving on soon? Or are you planning to make yourself at home indefinitely?”
Several wolves have gone quiet, sensing the tension building between us. Dane shifts position slightly, putting himself where he can intervene if necessary.
“I haven’t decided,” I say honestly.
“Ah.” Levi nods as if this confirms something he suspected. “The life of a nomad. Never staying anywhere long enough to develop real attachments.”
The jab hits closer to home than I’d like to admit. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Just making sure you understand the dynamics here.” Levi’s smile is all teeth and no warmth. “Shadowmist takes care of its own. We don’t abandon pack members when things get difficult.”
Unlike nomads, he doesn’t say, but the implication hangs in the air.
Before I can respond, the crowd parts to reveal Lithia approaching. She moves with her characteristic predatory grace, but there’s something different about her posture—tenser, more alert. Her silver eyes sweep the assembled wolves before settling on the standoff between Levi and me.
“Is there a problem here?” she asks, her voice carrying the authority of her Beta rank.
“No problem,” Levi says smoothly. “Just getting to know our guest better.”
Lithia’s gaze flicks between us, and I can see her reading the tension in the air. “Kier, how are you settling in?”
“Fine,” I say, though we both know it’s not entirely true.
“Good.” She turns to address the watching wolves. “Training time is over. Find something productive to do.”
The crowd disperses with the efficiency of wolves who know better than to argue with their Beta. But Levi doesn’t move, his yellow eyes still fixed on me with unmistakable hostility.
“Gamma,” Lithia says, her voice carrying a warning edge.
“Beta,” he acknowledges, but doesn’t retreat. “I was just—”
“I know what you were doing.” Her tone cuts off whatever excuse he was preparing. “Don’t.”