The Kitchen
Cassian
“Neither did I,” Warren mutters. There’s a faint tremor still running through his hands that he’s clearly trying to ignore. He doesn’t look at me when I speak. He exhales slowly through his nose.
My gaze drifts back to Beck. His eye is already blooming dark and ugly, swelling fast beneath the skin. He looks exhausted, shocked, and he’s very, very quiet—which tells me more than any words ever could.
Tansy sits beside him, shoulder pressed to his, like she’s afraid to leave his side.
The brave omega looks deceptively calm as Grason pulls stingers out of her skin.
Her arms are dotted with angry red marks, some already swelling, some still weeping faintly.
Grason’s jaw is tight as he works, eyes focused with a precision that tells me this is the only thing keeping him from exploding with rage right now.
And Tansy doesn’t flinch while he works. Not once.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper to Beck, my hands moving slowly along his sides, thumbs brushing steady, firm circles into his ribs to keep him calm.
Grason lets out a heavy sigh as he sets the tweezers aside, then straightens slowly. “All done.” His eyes move from Tansy to Beck, to Warren at the table, and finally to me. His voice is careful when he speaks. “Did Jimmy say if anyone else was involved?” he asks Warren. “Anyone at all.”
Warren shakes his head. The motion is sharp, frustrated. “No. He didn’t mention anyone else. Only—” He exhales hard, scrubbing a hand over his face before catching himself and switching hands to keep the ice pack in place. “Just Caleb.”
He stares down at the table, shoulders curling inward as if he’s trying to fold himself smaller. “I should’ve seen it. The constant phone calls. The desperate need for approval.” His mouth twists. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”
“No.” The word comes out of me flat and immediate. I don’t raise my voice, but it cuts clean through whatever spiral he was about to tumble into.
Warren looks up, startled. “Cass—”
“No,” I repeat, firmer now. “You don’t get to put this on yourself.”
He opens his mouth again, guilt sharpening his expression, but I don’t give him the space.
“This is on me,” I say firmly. “I’m the pack alpha. I was the one he worked under. I was the one he tried to kill.” I tighten my hands briefly on Beck’s legs, grounding myself as much as him. “If anyone missed something, it was me.”
Warren shakes his head. “That’s not—”
“I’m not debating you,” I say, calm and absolute.
“You protected this pack. All of you did.” My gaze moves deliberately from Warren at the table, bloodied but breathing.
To Beck, perched in front of me with a bruised eye.
And to Tansy, with her marked arms and steady gaze.
“You were all so brave. Every single one of you.” I pause, looking at each one of my boys. “I’ve never been prouder of my pack.”
Silence settles over the kitchen, heavy but steadier than before.
Warren closes his mouth. His shoulders sag a fraction, like he’s finally letting the weight shift off him—even if he doesn’t want to.
“I get it now,” Tansy’s soft voice breaks the silence.
Every head turns. Mine included.
I frown, confused. “Get what?”
“What you said about revenge.” Her expression is so soft and open, like every fiber of her being is calm.
“About how revenge isn’t always about anger or punishment.
” She glances briefly at Warren, then back to me.
“Sometimes it’s about protecting the people you love. Making sure the threat stops for good.”
The room goes very still.
“I don’t feel bad that Jimmy is dead,” she says, evenly. “Not even a little.” Her chin lifts a notch. “I’m proud that I was the one who ended it.”
Something in Beck breaks at that.
He makes a small, involuntary sound and leans hard into her side, like his body finally remembers where it’s safe. The shock drains out of him all at once, leaving exhaustion and relief in its wake.
Tansy wraps her arms around him immediately, pulling him close. She presses her face into his hair and breathes him in, scenting him slow and deliberate. Beck’s hands clutch at her shirt, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he finally lets himself come apart.
I watch them hold each other. Tansy, steady and upright, Beck folded into her as if he’s been waiting for permission to stop being strong.
Inside, something tighter and heavier moves through me.
I recognize the look on Tansy’s face. The calm. The certainty. It’s the first stage, and I know better than to believe her happy mood will last. Right now, she feels content with what she did.
It won’t stay that way.
Soon grief will come, followed by anger and maybe even depression. But that’s okay. I’ll be by her side when it happens. We all will.