6. Sam
Chapter six
Sam
Throw pillows. There were actual decorative throw pillows on the couch where I’d once spilled an entire beer during a playoff game. Derek had officially lost his mind.
I stood in the doorway of the Shaw house, duffel bag over my shoulder, taking in the evidence of my brother’s complete personality transplant.
The massive leather couch was still there, but now it was flanked by end tables with actual lamps on them.
Matching lamps. And was that a candle on the mantle?
Next to a framed photo I’d never seen—Derek and Sofia at the Bottley, her head thrown back in laughter while he looked at her like she’d hung the moon and he was just grateful to be standing in the light.
My wolf stirred uneasily. Derek’s scent saturated every surface, but it was tangled up with Sofia’s now—cinnamon and vanilla braided through his pine and moss until I couldn’t separate them. Mated. Claimed. The house knew it. My wolf knew it.
We weren’t residents anymore. We were guests.
I moved further inside, unable to stop myself.
The kitchen gleamed—actually gleamed—cleaner than it had ever been when four Shaw brothers had lived here.
Coffee mugs lined one shelf, bright cheerful things with sayings on them.
One said, “Rats = The Ultimate Evil,” and another had a cartoon wolf howling at a steaming cup in place of the moon.
There was a vase of fresh wildflowers on the island where we used to toss junk mail and pizza boxes.
I remembered when this place was ours. All four of us.
Mason burning dinner so spectacularly that we’d have to order takeout.
Ryan sprawled on the couch with patrol schedules while Derek and I trash-talked each other through some first-person shooter, the kind of easy brotherhood none of us appreciated until it was gone.
Now, Mason was Alpha of Bridgetown. Ryan was Alpha of Three Rivers with Mai and two kids. Derek was… this. Whatever this was. Domesticated. Happy.
And me?
My room at Council headquarters had white walls, a narrow bed, and a desk I’d never bothered to personalize.
What was the point? It was a place to sleep between missions, nothing more.
The whole building was like that—sterile, functional, designed to strip away anything that might make you soft. Duty incarnate in architecture.
Huh. Somewhere between playing spy and committing light treason, I’d become homeless.
Guess I’ll add that to the list of things going well.
I headed upstairs. I needed a shower and clean clothes before meeting everyone at the enforcers’ building.
Ryan, Mason, and Gideon had headed straight there while Derek went to pick up Sofia from the Bottley, and I dumped my stuff in my old room.
Which meant I had maybe twenty minutes of peace before—
The front door banged open downstairs.
Or not.
“—telling you, Derek Shaw, if you think for one second I’m staying behind while you plan a prison break—”
“No.”
“No? That’s it? Just no?”
“Sofia.” Derek’s voice was flat. Final. The voice he used to use on teenage werewolves who didn’t understand chain of command. “Not happening.”
“Oh, really?” I could hear Sofia’s voice go dangerous. If my brother couldn’t hear the warning in that tone, he deserved whatever was coming. “How nice of you to make that decision for me. Very democratic. Very partnership-oriented.”
“This is the Kennel.”
“I know what it is!”
“Then you know why you’re staying here.”
“What I know is that you’re being a pigheaded, overprotective—”
“Yes.”
That stopped her for half a second. “Did you just agree that you’re pigheaded?”
“I agreed I’m protective. You’re staying.”
“Like hell I am!”
I heard Derek exhale—not quite a sigh, but close. Rookie mistake, brother. “People don’t walk out of Adarcan, Sofia. They die there. Badly. In ways I’m not going to describe because you don’t need those images in your head.”
“Which is exactly why I should be there! Or does your martyr complex only apply to you and your brothers?”
“It’s not—”
“You’re planning to walk into a death trap, and I’m supposed to what? Stay home? Bake cookies? Arrange our gorgeous throw pillows over and over again and wait to see if you come back in one piece?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not happening, Derek!”
“It is.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can. I am. End of discussion.”
I leaned over the banister because this was too entertaining to miss. “Just checking—is this foreplay for you two? Because I can leave.”
Sofia’s head snapped up. Her red curls were escaping from whatever updo she’d attempted, and her green eyes were bright with fury.
“Sam Shaw!” She jabbed a finger at me. “Get down here right now so I can hug you and then kill you for being an idiot!”
“That’s a mixed message, Sof.”
“I contain multitudes! Now get down here!”
I took my time on the stairs. Partly to annoy her, partly because Derek’s expression was absolutely priceless—caught between wanting to murder me for interrupting and reluctant gratitude for the distraction.
Through the twin bond, I felt his exhaustion. His fear. Not of Adarcan—of leaving Sofia behind and never coming back. Of making her mateless.
Well, shit. That was inconvenient information to have.
“I’ve been gone a few months,” I said, reaching the bottom of the stairs, “and you two have gotten very comfortable with the whole old-married-couple routine. Should I expect matching bathrobes next? His and hers coffee mugs? Oh, wait—” I gestured toward the kitchen. “You already have those.”
“Sam.” Derek’s warning growl would’ve worked on literally anyone else.
“Is this really my twin, expressing emotions like a functional human being? In front of witnesses? While arguing about feelings?” I pressed a hand to my chest. “It’s surely one of the signs of the apocalypse. Should I be checking for locusts?”
Sofia tried to fight it, pressing her lips together, but a snort escaped anyway.
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Are you done?”
“Not even close. But I’ll pause so Sofia can assault me.” I spread my arms. “Come on, then. Get it over with.”
She launched herself at me like a tiny redheaded missile. The hug was exactly as bone-crushing as I’d expected. Sofia had always been stronger than she looked, and apparently mating with my brother had only made her more so.
“You’re such an ass,” she mumbled into my shoulder.
“I know.”
Derek growled—actually growled—at the sight of another male holding his mate. Even if that male was his twin brother. Some things were hardwired.
“Missed you too, Sofia.” I squeezed her back, then released her before Derek’s wolf did something stupid.
She pulled away and immediately punched my arm. Hard.
“Ow! What the—?”
“That’s for disappearing for months!” Another punch. “For joining the Council and going all dark and brooding!” Another. “For making Derek worry even though he’d never admit it!” Another. “For making me worry!”
I caught her wrist before she could land a fifth hit. “Okay, okay. I’m the worst. Message received.”
“You really are.” But her voice cracked on the last word, and when I looked at her—really looked—I saw the shadows under her eyes.
The tension in her shoulders. Sofia had always been sunshine and sharp edges, warmth wrapped around a core of steel.
But right now she looked fragile in a way that made my chest ache.
“Sam.” She gripped my arm, the anger draining out of her. “You look like hell. When’s the last time you slept?”
“What day is it?”
“It’s Thursday.”
“Then Monday, I guess.”
“That’s—You can’t—” She made a sound of pure frustration. “You Shaws are going to be the death of me. All of you. Every single one.”
Derek moved up behind her, his hand settling on the small of her back like it belonged there. Like the two of them were puzzle pieces that had finally clicked into place. He stood so close their shoulders touched, and I watched something in Sofia’s posture ease at the contact.
Through the twin bond, I felt it. That sense of rightness. Of home.
That’s what mates did. They showed up. They made you better just by existing.
And mine was locked in a supernatural prison because I’d put her there.
“He’s been busy plotting treason,” Derek said dryly.
“I prefer to think of it as ‘aggressive prisoner relocation.’”
“That’s not better,” Sofia said.
“It’s a little better.”
“It’s really not.”
I looked between them—Sofia with her fierce protectiveness and the fear she was trying so hard to hide, Derek with the way he watched her, like she was oxygen and he’d just remembered he needed to breathe—and something twisted in my gut.
“So.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile. “Gotta say, I’m impressed by the whole… mated situation. Derek Shaw, emotionally available partner. Never thought I’d see the day.”
Sofia’s cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t change the subject, Sam Shaw. You found your mate—”
“She doesn’t know.”
That stopped her cold.
“The bond is there,” I said quietly. “For me, anyway. I don’t know if she can feel the mating bond.
She’s half-witch so I’m not even sure how these things work.
But the last time she saw me, she’d just found out I’d been lying to her for months.
That Felix—the guy she’d been working with, the guy she’d started trusting, the guy she’d kissed—was actually Sam Shaw. Council member. Her enemy.”
Sofia’s face fell. “Oh, Sam.”
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “So, it’s a spectacular mess, even by Shaw standards.”
“But you’re going to fix it.” It wasn’t a question.
Sofia had that look in her eye—the stubborn one that said she’d already decided how this story was going to end.
“You’re going to break her out of that horrible place, and you’re going to grovel—like, seriously grovel, Sam, I’m talking epic romantic gesture levels of groveling—and then you’re going to bring her here so I can meet my new sister. ”
“Sofia—”
“Don’t.” She held up a hand, ticking off points on her fingers like we were particularly slow children.
“One: she’s your mate. Two: she’s stuck in prison.
Three: we are going to get her out. Four: I am going to make her my best friend, along with Mai and Wally, and we are going to have wine nights and complain about how emotionally constipated you Shaw men are. This is happening. It’s decided.”
Derek and I glanced at each other, then I looked back at Sofia. “She might not want—”
“She will.” Sofia’s voice softened. “She’s Pack now. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”
Pack. Family. The things Annabella had been searching for her whole life, and here was Sofia, ready to offer them like they were obvious. Like of course she would welcome a half-witch terrorist into the family. Like of course that’s what you did for your mate’s brother’s mate.
I took a breath. “Actually… you already know her.”
They both stared at me.
“Annabella McGrath.” I watched Sofia’s face. “Your cousin. She’s your cousin, Sof.”
Sofia’s eyes went wide. “Your mate? Annabella is your mate?” She glanced between Derek and me. “Well, fuck me sideways, I did not see that coming.”