Awkward Dinner #2
But Beck snaps back, before I have a chance to speak. “Tansy’s not the one who’s being rude.” He crosses his arms, glaring right at my mother.
Mom points her fork right at Beck’s face, then she opens her mouth, but before she can get a word out, Pop stands up, his chair scraping softly as he raises his hands in a calming gesture.
“Let’s all take a breath,” Pop says, voice firm but careful. “This has been a lot. For all of us.”
Ken leans back in his chair. Relaxed. Watching.
He turns and looks at Cass. “Tansy disappeared. We didn’t know if she was hurt or even alive. You can’t understand how that affected us.”
Mom snarls at Beck. “And I was terrified,” she says. “Frantic. They even did a news story on it.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?”
Embarrassing.
Not terrifying.
Not devastating.
But embarrassing.
The word hits, and everything inside me goes quiet.
It’s like someone flipped a switch and cut the power.
My body is suddenly too light and too heavy at the same time. I sit back down because I don’t trust my legs to hold me anymore. The chair presses solid against the backs of my thighs, and I drop my gaze.
“It was awful,” Mom says as she leans a little closer to Ken’s side.
“Standing in front of those cameras, begging for information from anyone willing to give it.” She glares at Cass, clearly emboldened by Ken’s hulking presence next to her.
“After everything I went through, I think it’s fair to know if our daughter was forced into a mating with a wounded alpha, or if she actually chose him. ”
“Careful, omega,” Cass warns gently. Our bond tightens with his anger, but he manages to pull it back in. “Remember that you’re in my home.”
“I know where I am.” Mom tips her chin up, acting like she’s invincible just because her mates are by her side. “But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“Cass’s injury had nothing to do with Tansy,” Warren says calmly. His voice isn’t loud, but it carries. “In fact, his injury isn’t related to her in any way.”
Mom straightens, folding her arms tight across her chest. “Then what happened?” she demands.
Warren shrugs, casual, as he takes a big bite of steak. “Someone insulted him during what was supposed to be a polite dinner.” He winks at her, smiling while he chews. “Cass put the asshole in his place.”
The silence that follows is absolute.
I feel all three of my fathers go rigid, a shift in the air I register without looking, because I can’t tear my eyes away from my mother.
Her mouth opens slightly. Her eyes widen, shock rippling across her face as if she’s just realized what was said to her. “Did he threaten me?” she presses a hand to her chest. “Ken? What did he say?”
Ken clears his throat, speaking smoothly. “That seems a little extreme,” he says, and my skin crawls at the sound of his voice. “Violence over a comment?” He lets out a short laugh. “The whole story sounds like fake alpha-bravado if you ask me.”
I can’t tell if he’s protecting my mother or testing my pack.
Warren doesn’t blink. “It wasn’t extreme,” he says coolly. “It was a correction.” He looks right at my mom. “Some people need to be corrected. Especially when they upset my omega.”
Mom gasps loudly, disbelief splintering her voice. “W-William?”
Dad pushes his chair back abruptly, the legs scraping hard against the floor. The sound cuts through the room and snaps everyone’s attention to him. Including Ken. The alpha finally looks away from me, his expression blank. Like he’s suddenly bored.
“That’s enough,” Dad barks, but he doesn’t look at me. He looks at Cass. “We’re leaving.”
Cass nods once, like he’s completely fine with that. “Of course.” He stands. “Grason, please walk our guests out.”
Everyone shifts, chairs push back, but it’s only when Ken stands that I realize I’m holding my breath.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grason move a few seats down, his chair pushing back as he rises to his full height. All six foot seven of him straightens, broad shoulders filling the space like a wall you don’t argue with.
“After you,” Grason growls softly.
The room shifts around him without anyone saying a word.
I catch Beck’s face as he looks up at Grason. His cheeks are flushed, eyes dark and hungry. The beta looks like he wants to drag Grason down and have his way with him right here on the dining room table, and he’s only barely holding it together out of respect for Cass.
“There’s no need,” Dad glares at Gray. “We’ll see ourselves out.”
He shifts back, and everyone moves. Mom scrambles past Ken and Daniel, heels clicking as she hurries to her pack alpha’s side.
She clutches his arm like it’s the only solid thing in the room.
Her face is still pale, eyes darting between Grason and Warren as if she’s genuinely afraid one of them might snap and launch across the table.
“I can’t believe you’d let them talk to me like that,” Mom says, her voice wobbling as she turns to look at me.
She presses her fingers under her eyes like she’s holding back tears, but nothing actually falls.
“I never thought my daughter would sit there and allow her mates to show so much disrespect to her own mother.”
I want to be angry. I know I should be. But I don’t have the energy anymore.
“Don’t waste your breath, Renee.” Ken shakes his head as he stares down at me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Tansy made her choice a long time ago.” His eyes narrow, but there’s no anger. He’s mocking me. “Being mated isn’t going to change the kind of omega she decided to be.”
The words land, and I stay silent, too drained to fight a battle I lost years ago. I just sit there, hollow and exhausted, watching him lie smoothly to people who have always chosen to believe him over me.
“I suggest you leave now,” Cass says forcefully, slowly rising out of his chair.
“Goodbye, Tansy.” Dad’s gaze lands on me. His tone is controlled, formal, like we’re closing a meeting instead of ending a family dinner.
My gaze drops to my plate, refusing to look any of them in the eye.
Why do I feel so small and stupid right now?
“Tansy?” Pop says my name quietly, but I keep my head down.
“I’m glad you’re okay.” There’s something softer in his voice, something that feels almost like regret.
“Please, take care of yourself, kiddo.” He doesn't wait for me to answer.
He simply turns and follows the others out, Grason not far behind him.
A few seconds later, the front door slams shut, and something inside me gives way.
The room doesn’t feel safe all of a sudden.
It feels too big.
Too loud.
My hands start shaking hard enough that I have to press them flat against my thighs to keep them still. My heart is still racing, but now there’s nowhere for it to go. No one left to fight. No words left to throw.
I don’t feel victorious or relieved.
I feel wrung out and wrong, like I just ran from something that’s still chasing me.
Thirteen-year-old me curls up somewhere deep inside my mind, small and quiet and terrified. I haven’t thought about Ken this clearly in years. Not like this. Not with his face right there, his voice cutting through the room, his presence dragging memories up by the throat.
I press my lips together, breathing shallow, trying not to fall apart in front of everyone.
Cass feels it.
I know he does because our bond shifts, the steady warmth faltering for the first time since this dinner started. Not breaking. Tightening. His attention snaps fully to me, sharp and focused, like he realized the ground under his feet isn’t as solid as he thought.
“Tansy,” he says quietly.
I flinch at the sound of my name.
His chair scrapes back as he moves closer, kneeling beside me so we’re at eye level. One of his hands comes up slowly, deliberately, giving me time to pull away if I need it. I don’t.
I lean into him without thinking, my forehead pressing into his shoulder as the shaking finally breaks free.
“I’m not okay,” I whisper, the words barely making it out, before I start to cry.
Cass’s arms come around me immediately, solid and sure, anchoring me in place. I feel Warren move on my other side, his hand settling at my back, warm and steady, like a brace holding me upright. Beck hovers behind the alpha, tense and furious, and quiet for once.
“I know,” Cass murmurs. His voice is low, careful. “I can feel it.”
Our bond hums, not calming yet, just present. Like he’s sitting with my pain instead of trying to push it away.
I shake my head against his shoulder. “I thought I was past it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I haven’t had a flashback in so long. Not since you—” I stop, swallowing hard. “And then he was there. Like no time passed at all.”
Cass stills.
“He?” he repeats gently.
I pull back just enough to look at him. My chest feels tight, my lungs working too fast.
“I want to be in my nest.”
The words barely leave my mouth before Cass looks up. He meets Warren’s eyes across the room, something silent and immediate passing between them.
Warren moves.
One second, I’m sitting there shaking, the next Warren’s arms are around me, scooping me up bridal-style like I weigh nothing. My stomach drops at the sudden movement and I gasp, fingers curling into his shirt as my heart stutters and then takes off again.
“It’s okay,” he whispers, low and steady. “I’ve got you.”
The room blurs.
I hear Beck somewhere behind us, his voice sharp with anger as he says something about dismissing the kitchen staff, but Warren is already carrying me out of the dining room, away from the table, away from the smells and the voices and the memory of Ken’s eyes on me.
The living room passes in a rush of light and color.
I can’t focus on anything.
My chest hurts. My hands won’t stop shaking. Every breath feels too shallow, like I can’t quite get enough air no matter how hard I try.
We hit the stairs, and Warren adjusts his grip on me without slowing down, one arm tight under my knees, the other firm around my back. I cling to him, pressing my face into his shoulder, sucking down lungfuls of his soft sandalwood scent.
Grason steps up beside us as we hit the landing. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat of him, his presence a solid wall at our side.
Behind us, I hear the soft, uneven rhythm of Cass’s steps. The faint tap of his cane. He’s keeping up as best he can, close enough that I can feel him through the bond, a constant, burning thread of concern and control and barely restrained fury.
My fear keeps climbing, ugly and relentless, and underneath it there’s something worse. Grief. Old and raw and sudden.
They’re all around me. Carrying me. Guarding me. Protecting me.
But it hurts anyway.
I squeeze my eyes shut, tears leaking out no matter how hard I try to stop them, and let Warren carry me the rest of the way up the stairs, deeper into the house, toward my nest, hoping the walls there will finally let me breathe.